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Lucy told him everything she knew and could
think of, and, lastly, after waxing eloquent on the horses of the uplands,
particularly Bostil's, she gave him a graphic account of Cordts and Dick
Sears.
"Horse-thieves!" exclaimed the rider, darkly. There was a grimness as well as
fear in his tone. "I've heard of Sears, but not Cordts. Where does this band
hang out?"
"No one knows. Holley says they hide up in the canyon country. None of the
riders have ever tried to track them far. It would be useless. Holley says
there are plateaus of rich grass and great forests. The Ute Indians say that
much, too. But we know little about the wild country."
"Aren't there any hunters at Bostil's Ford?"
"Wild-horse hunters, you mean?"
"No. Bear an' deer hunters."
"There's none. And I suppose that's why we're not familiar with the wild
canyon country. I'd like to ride in there sometime and camp. But our people
don't go in for that. They love the open ranges. No one I know, except a
half-witted boy, ever rode down among these monuments.


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