was strained to the highest pitch of anxiety, and in spite of his apparently calm determination to proceed Dunham could see that he realized the gravity of his situation and the hopelessness of trying to fight his way into Kansas against such heavy odds. Ruin was waiting at the old trail crossing of the Cimarron.
The Texans were not to be left long without official notification of the quarantine against their cattle. While they were still two miles from the river a delegation of Kansans made their appearance under the leadership of John Moore, whom Dunham recognized some distance off.
Dunham said he believed he'd drop back a piece, as he wasn't looking for trouble right then, and thought it would be for the good of all concerned if he passed unrecognized.
"I guess you've got your own reasons," Hughes said, his opinion of Dunham's valor appearing to take a slump.
"I'd rather they didn't know I'm with you yet a while," Dunham said, putting it in the form of a request.
Bob Hughes flushed, something hot on his tongue, which his father stopped by lifting his hand.
"Let him go," he said. "Maybe he's got better reasons than we can see right now. I never judge a man before he's tried."
Dunham thanked him, and rode back at a canter as if he had been sent on some detached duty. The head of the long string of cattle came to a halt when Hughes pulled up to wait the arrival of the Kansas delegation.
