Now if only we had some grub!" "Moze, there's a hunk of deer meat in my saddle-bag, an' if you git it you can have half," spoke up another voice.
Moze shuffled out with alacrity.
In the firelight Snake Anson's face looked lean and serpent-like, his eyes glittered, and his long neck and all of his long length carried out the analogy of his name.
"Snake, what's this here deal with Beasley ?" inquired Jim.
"Reckon you'll l'arn when I do," replied the leader.

He appeared tired and thoughtful.
"Ain't we done away with enough of them poor greaser herders--for nothin' ?" queried the youngest of the gang, a boy in years, whose hard, bitter lips and hungry eyes somehow set him apart from his comrades.
"You're dead right, Burt--an' that's my stand," replied the man who had sent Moze out.

"Snake, snow 'll be flyin' round these woods before long," said Jim Wilson.

"Are we goin' to winter down in the Tonto Basin or over on the Gila ?" "Reckon we'll do some tall ridin' before we strike south," replied Snake, gruffly.
At the juncture Moze returned.
"Boss, I heerd a hoss comin' up the trail," he said.
Snake rose and stood at the door, listening.

Outside the wind moaned fitfully and scattering raindrops pattered upon the cabin.
"A-huh!" exclaimed Snake, in relief.
Silence ensued then for a moment, at the end of which interval Dale heard a rapid clip-clop on the rocky trail outside.