He had told them just where to watch for Annie-Many-Ponies and the flag she would wave,--a black flag, so that the boys could not fail to see it in the vague whiteness of the storm.

He had located the jutting ledge behind which Happy Jack was to sneak, that he might watch for the signal as an extra precaution against an unseasonable appearance of the two riders over the ridge.
When the herd straggled down in what seemed an endless stream of storm-driven animals, Luck knew that the boys had done their work well.
He knew cattle as he knew pictures; he knew that a full two thousand came over that ridge through a shallow pass he had chosen, "'Every hoof' is right," he remarked to Bill Holmes with a dry approval.

"I'd hate to go hunting meat where that bunch was gathered from.

Looks like they'd combed the country for fifty miles around." He sent a quick glance to the pinnacle where Annie-Many-Ponies stood waiting to give the signal.

He wished that she had realized the importance of these cattle scenes keenly enough to have given him the signal at the cost of breaking her pose.