They agreed with Old Bill’s simple philosophy and all three set about making camp. Slim took care of Lightning and Old Bill’s horse while Chuck went about rustling an armful of wood.

Old Bill opened his blanket roll and a goodly supply of provisions was revealed, something more than the bitter coffee on which they had tried to satisfy their hunger that day.

A crackling fire was soon going, the bacon broiling and the potatoes frying. There was plenty of bread and a pot of delicious coffee. Slim and Chuck ate to their fill, and Old Bill watched them with twinkling eyes. These were youngsters after his own heart, clean, manly young chaps--able to ride with the best in the west, afraid of nothing, including mountain wildcats. He knew that he could count on them for the work that was ahead.

When they had finished the meal, Slim and Chuck took the few utensils to the nearby stream where they washed them in the cool water. By the time they were back at camp, Old Bill had the blankets spread out, more fuel on the fire, and his pipe going. He was ready to talk, ready to tell them why he had summoned them to meet him so mysteriously on the Sky High trail.

The cowboy from the Flying Arrow and the one from the Circle Four eased their weary bodies down on the blankets and waited for Old Bill to speak. The cattleman shifted his pipe.

“I’ll start in from the first,” he said. “It goes quite a ways back into Wyoming cattle history, but it’s best that you know fully what you’re going into.”

He jerked a thumb in the general direction of the Creeping Shadows country.

“That’s the best cattle country in this part of the west--plenty of rich grass and lots of water that’s good all of the year round. The valley is set down between the Cajons and the Three Soldiers and it’s warmer than most parts of Wyoming in the winter. But it’s tough country to get into--too expensive for a railroad for the amount of business, so the world has sort of forgotten the valley except when the trail herds come out in the fall on the way to the loading yards at Mopstick. The valley is just as tough, maybe a little tougher, than it was thirty years ago when Adam Marks went in and started the Box B. Adam had a fight on his hands then and he’s got one now.”

“So we’re headed for the Box B?” said Slim softly. He had heard his father speak of Adam Marks and the Box B, of the fine grass and water on the range and of the choice cattle the Box B sent to market each fall.

“You two are headed for the Box B,” corrected Old Bill.

“You voting yourself out?” asked Chuck.

“I never voted myself in. Now don’t jump at conclusions. Adam went into the Creeping Shadows country when it was a nest of outlaws. He was honest and clean and he bought his land. He took with him a hard-riding, hard-fighting bunch of punchers that were handy with fist or gun. He cleaned up the valley except the town of Dirty Water and that was too tough even for Adam to fumigate.

“To shorten up the story, Adam prospered. He kept buying more land and increasing his range stock. He was figured a millionaire a couple of times over but the bottom went out of the beef market and then rustling started again and it’s been growing worse the last few months. Adam has lost hundreds of fine cattle and he hasn’t been able to put his finger on the gang responsible.”

“Which means you’ve picked Slim and me to go in and do a little Sherlock Holmes work for you,” interjected Chuck. “How about your regular cattle detectives?”

“I was just getting to that,” said Old Bill a little wearily. “Adam sent word to me that he was in trouble and I sent a good man into the valley. He never came back. Then Adam sent another call to the association for help and I sent another good riding detective, but after a week in the valley with Adam’s boys, he did a disappearing act.”

“Someone scare him?” asked Chuck.

“They were the type that didn’t scare. I think someone shot them just like they attempted to get you yesterday.”

“They’ll have to be a lot better shots than that if they figure on getting me,” snorted Chuck. “They missed me the first time. Say, I could knock an apple off a man’s head at that range ten times out of ten and never touch a hair on his head.”

“That’s one reason I sent word for you to meet me here,” said Old Bill. “Adam Marks is up against a tough proposition. I’ve lost two of my regular detectives on the job. It isn’t that I’m afraid to send them in, but I know it’s pure murder for them if I do. They’re all known. What I need is two fellows who look and act like a couple of gay young buckaroos that don’t have a responsibility in the world and don’t care much where they hang their hats just so there’s a peg handy.

“I picked you boys for several reasons. Slim has done a couple of little jobs for me over near Sunfield and I know he’s got a good head and a cool one. In addition, he’s a dead shot with a six gun. Chuck’s a fine rider and the best man with a rifle I’ve seen in many a year. Slim, your temper is likely to flash a bit too hot at times, but I figure that Chuck being a little slower to fly off the handle will kind of keep a check on you. In other words, you’re my idea of the right kind of a team to send into the Creeping Shadows country and ferret out these rustlers.”

Slim looked across the fire at Chuck, carefully appraising the cowboy from the Circle Four. He had liked Chuck from the very first.

“What do you think about it?” he asked.

“I don’t much like being shot at without warning,” said Chuck, “so you can count me in to see this thing through. I’ve a pretty strong hunch we’ll find the fellows that gave me the lead greeting tangled up with this gang of rustlers.”

“And I’m still mad about Lightning being stolen,” added Slim. “Looks like both of us have a debt to repay those birds in the Creeping Shadows. Count me in.”

“Me too,” added Chuck heartily.

Old Bill smiled broadly. He had felt sure that these youngsters would come through. He reached over to the nearby woodpile and tossed a couple of large sticks on the flames. The fire brightened, chasing the shadows away from the men stretched on the blankets.

“Don’t make a mistake and think this is going to be an easy job,” cautioned Old Bill. “You’ll have to do plenty of hard work and a lot of tough riding. You’re going into this thing alone. Not even Adam Marks will know who you are.”

“Why not?” asked Slim.

“He knew that the other men I sent in were detectives. They never came back.”

“You’re not hinting that Marks is rustling his own cattle?”

“I’m not hinting at a thing,” replied Old Bill sharply. “I’m simply telling you the facts. No one must know you have any possible association with me. That’s why I asked both of you to meet me on this lonely trail.”

“I was ‘met’ all right,” said Chuck.

“That worries me,” said Old Bill. “It makes it a lot harder for you boys. The gang operating in the Creeping Shadows must figure I’ll be sending in more men and have every incoming trail picketed.”

“But they never gave me a chance.”

“This gang won’t.”

“When do you want us to start for the valley?” asked Slim.

Old Bill was silent for a time.

“We’ve got to get a horse for Chuck and new boots for both of you,” he said at last. “Then I’d better get a complete change of clothes for Chuck. That’s a pretty loud shirt he’s wearing and it might be a give-away when he reaches the valley, especially if those hombres got a good look at it. I think you better have your hair cropped close, too, Chuck. That would change your appearance a lot.”

“You mean it would ruin my manly beauty,” howled Chuck. “Who’s going to do all this barbering, anyway?”

“I’ll ride back across the Cajons by another trail I know they won’t be watching, get another horse for you, buy boots for both of you, clothes for Chuck and bring back a pair of hair clippers.”

“While you’re worrying so much about me, what about Slim and Lightning?” Chuck wanted to know.

“They never saw Slim in the daylight and I’ll get a little dye while I’m on the other side and we’ll make Lightning a solid sorrel. That ought to fool them.”

“Better buy me a saddle,” suggested Slim. “My own outfit looks too good for a wandering cowboy.”

“One thing,” grinned Chuck, “we’ll have a couple of days to rest here and let the swelling in our feet go down.”

“That suits me,” agreed Slim. “My main worry was getting Lightning back.”

They talked a few more minutes, then rolled into their blankets as the fire died down. The moon, coming up over the Cajons, looked down on the sleeping camp, and swung on toward the west.