"
"Yes, they'll watch the water-holes. That's why we're goin' to camp on
Antelope Butte--right up on top of it."
"But, how will we get water?"
"It's there."
"Have you been up there?" The girl glanced upward. They were already
ascending the first slope, and the huge mass of the detached mountain
towered above them in a series of unscaleable precipices.
"No. But the water's there. The top of the Butte hollows out like a
saucer, an' in the bowl there's a little sunk spring. No one much ever
goes up there. There's a little scragglin' timber, an' the trail--it's
an old game trail--is hard to find if you don't know where to look for
it. A horse-thief told me about it."
"A horse-thief! Surely, you are not risking all our lives on the word
of a horse-thief!"
"Yes. He was a pretty good fellow. They killed him, afterwards, over
near the Mission. He was runnin' off a bunch of Flourey horses."
"But a man who would steal would lie!"
"He didn't lie to me. He judged I done him a good turn once. Over on
the Marias, it was--an' he said: 'If you're ever on the run, hit for
Antelope Butte.' Then he told me about the trail, an' the spring that
you've got to dig for among the rocks. He's got a grub _cache_ there,
too. He won't be needin' it, now." The cowboy glanced toward the
west.
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