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133 "I shouldn't be surprised," said Bill Steele grimly. "And now tell me, Turk: what's the reason you and Rice have done nothing while I was away? And what's the meaning of Rice being gone so long now?"

Turk explained as they trudged back to the plateau and had the privilege of seeing Steele's eyebrows go up in astonishment. The day Steele had left them Rice had gone into Camp Corliss for a little more generous lay-out of provisions and some nails and tools. He had learned that nothing was to be had there by Bill Steele or any man taking Steele's wage. He had gone on into Summit City and had had the information repeated. He had been hungry and couldn't get a meal at the hotel or at the little chop house. He had come back at last to spend the night in camp and to consult with his friend. The next morning he had left again, planning to go on through Summit City and to the nearest town beyond, which was Temple Junction, a fifty mile distant railroad town. And it was likely, said Turk, that he'd have to walk unless he waited for the stage which ran at this time of year only twice a week.

"Why didn't he take my horse?" asked Steele. Turk grinned.

"Scared," he chuckled. "Me an' Bill Rice ain't buckeroos an' never was. I'd rather ride a cyclone than that devil eyed cayuse of yourn. So'd Bill."

That night Steele was forced to dine on trout again. They were down to the last potato, the last handful of beans. Flapjack flour all gone; only a few spoonfuls of sugar left; hardly greater an amount of coffee. …