CHAPTER 26UNCONSCIOUS of Que Layton’s death, Bruce Powell slept lightly for two hours until the slanting rays of the sun on his face wakened him. He lay for a moment trying to orient himself and then sat up.
The camp was almost deserted. The cook puttered around the chuck wagon and the gear was scattered about, showing plainly that they had no intention of moving that morning.
Powell kicked out of his blanket and rose stiffly, turning to look at the herd which had been spread out across the thin grass to feed. They ranged almost as far as eye could reach, and here and there he caught a flash of color as a rider moved slowly through the grazing stock.
The major turned and moved in to the wagon, finding Lefty James seated, his back to a high wheel, nursing a cup of hot coffee in his twist
