As has been said, they found the Basin now quite deserted. The trail to
Sycamore Flats had apparently not been travelled since George Pollock
had ridden down it to give himself up to authority. Their preliminary
labours finished, the two Forest officers packed, and were on the very
point of turning up the steep mountain side toward the lookout, when two
horsemen rode over the flat rock.
Naturally Bob and Ware drew up, after the mountain custom, to exchange
greetings. As the others drew nearer, Bob recognized in one the slanting
eyeglasses, the close-lipped, gray moustache and the keen, cold features
of Oldham. Ware nodded at the other man, who returned his salutation as
curtly.
"You're off your beat, Mr. Oldham," observed Bob.
"I'm after a deer," replied Oldham. "You are a little off your own beat,
aren't you?"
"My beat is everywhere," replied Bob carelessly.
"What devilment you up to now, Sal?" Ware was asking of the other man,
a tall, loose-jointed, freckle-faced and red-haired individual with an
evil red eye.
"I'm earnin' my salary; and I misdoubt you ain't," sneered the
individual thus addressed.
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