"Then  I've  got  to  hide  tracks  certain — rustle  to  my
camp  an'  stay  there  till  you  say  it's  safe  to  risk  takin'
the  girls  to  Pine."

"Milt,  you're  talkin'  the  wisdom  of  the  prophets."

"  I  ain't  so  sure  we  can  hide  tracks  altogether.  If  Anson
had  any  eyes  for  the  woods  he'd  not  have  lost  me  so  soon."

"No.     But,  you  see,  he's  figgerin'  to  cross  your  trail."

"If  I  could  get  fifteen  or  twenty  mile  farther  on  an'
hide  tracks  certain,  I'd  feel  safe  from  pursuit,  anyway,"
said  the  hunter,  reflectively.
"Shore  an'  easy,"  responded  Roy,  quickly.  "I  jest
met  up  with  some  greaser  sheep-herders  drivin'  a  big
flock.  They've  come  up  from  the  south  an'  are  goin'  to
fatten  up  at  Turkey  Senacas.  Then  they'll  drive  back
south  an'  go  on  to  Phenix.  Wai,  it's  muddy  weather.
Now  you  break  camp  quick  an'  make  a  plain  trail  out  to
thet  sheep  trail,  as  if  you  was  travelin'  south.  But,  in-
stead, you  ride  round  ahead  of  thet  flock  of  sheep.  They'll
keep  to  the  open  parks  an'  the  trails  through  them  necks
of  woods  out  here.  An',  passin'  over  your  tracks,  they'll
hide  'em."

"But  supposin'  Anson  circles  an'  hits  this  camp?  He'll
track  me  easy  out  to  that  sheep  trail.  What  then?"

"Jest  what  you  want.  Goin'  south  thet  sheep  trail  is
downhill  an'  muddy.  It's  goin'  to  rain  hard.  Your
tracks  would  get  washed  out  even  if  you  did  go  south.
An'  Anson  would  keep  on  thet  way  till  he  was  clear  off
the  scent.  Leave  it  to  me,  Milt.  You're  a  hunter.  But
I'm  a  hoss-tracker."

"All  right.     We'll  rustle."

Then  he  called  the  girls  to  hurry.
