Part 20 (1/2)

CHAPTER XIV

ANOTHER GAME

Cheyenne knew enough about Sneed, by reputation, to make him cautious.

He decided to play ace for ace--and, if possible, steal the stolen horses from Sneed. The difficulty was to locate them without being seen.

Little Jim had said the horses were in Sneed's corral, somewhere up in the mountain meadows. And because Cheyenne knew little about that particular section of the mountains, he rolled a blanket and packed some provisions to see him through. Bartley and he had returned to their camp after their visit to the ranch, and next morning, as Cheyenne made preparation to ride, Bartley offered to go with him.

Cheyenne dissuaded Bartley from accompanying him, arguing that he could travel faster and more cautiously alone. ”One man ridin' in to Sneed's camp wouldn't look as suspicious as two,” said Cheyenne. ”And if I thought you could help any, I'd say to come along. That's on the square.

Me and my little old carbine will make out, I guess.”

So Bartley, somewhat against his inclination, stayed in camp, with the understanding that, if Cheyenne did not return in two days, he was to report the circ.u.mstance to the authorities in San Andreas, the princ.i.p.al town of the valley.

Meanwhile, the regular routine prevailed at the Lawrence ranch. Uncle Frank had the irrigation plant to look after; and Aunt Jane was immersed in the endless occupation of housekeeping. Little Jim had his regular light tasks to attend to, and that morning he made short work of them.

It was not until noon that Aunt Jane missed him. He had disappeared completely, as had his saddle-pony.

At first, Jimmy had thought of riding over to his father's camp, but he was afraid his father would guess his intent and send him back home. So he tied his pony to a clump of junipers some distance from the camp, and, crawling to a rise, he lay and watched Cheyenne saddle up and take the trail that led into the high country. A half-hour later, Jimmy mounted his pony and, riding wide of the camp, he cut into the hill trail and followed it on up through the brush to the hillside timber. He planned to ride until he got so far into the mountains that when he did overtake his father and offer his a.s.sistance in locating the stolen horses, it would hardly seem worth while to send him back. Jimmy expected to be ordered back, but he had his own argument ready in that event.

Little Jim's pony carried him swiftly up the grade. Meanwhile, Cheyenne had traveled rather slowly, saving his horse. At a bend in the trail he drew rein to breathe the animal. On the lookout for any moving thing, he glanced back and down--and saw an old black hat bobbing along through the brush below. He leaned forward and peered down. ”The little cuss!”

he exclaimed, grinning. Then his expression changed. ”Won't do, a-tall!

His aunt will be havin' fits--and Miss Dorry'll be helpin' her to have 'em, if she hears of it. Dog-gone that boy!”

Nevertheless, Cheyenne was pleased. His boy had sand, and liked adventure. Little Jim might have stayed in camp, with Bartley, and spent a joyous day shooting at a mark, incidentally hinting to the Easterner that ”his ole twenty-two was about worn out.” But Little Jim had chosen to follow his father into the hills.

”Reckon he figures to see what'll happen,” muttered Cheyenne as he led his horse off the trail and waited for Jimmy to come up.

Little Jim's black hat bobbed steadily up the switchbacks. Presently he was on the stretch of trail at the end of which his father waited, concealed in the brush.

As Little Jim's pony approached the bend it p.r.i.c.ked its ears and snorted. ”Git along, you!” said Jimmy.

”Where you goin'?” queried Cheyenne, stepping out on the trail.

Little Jim gazed blankly at his father. ”I'm just a-ridin'. I wa'n't goin' no place.”

”Well, you took the wrong trail to get there. You fan it back to the folks.”

”Aunt Jane is my boss!” said Jimmy defiantly. ”'Course she is,” agreed Cheyenne. ”You and me, we're just pardners. But, honest, Jimmy, you can't do no good, d.o.g.g.i.n' along after me. Your Aunt Jane would sure stretch my hide if she knowed I let you come along.”

”I won't tell her.”

”But she'd find out. You just ride back and wait down at my camp. I'll find them hosses, all right.”

Little Jim hesitated, twisting his fingers in his pony's mane.

”Suppose,” he ventured, ”that a bunch of Sneed's riders was to run on to you? You'd sure need help.”

”That's just it! Supposin' they did? And supposin' they took a crack at us, they might git you--for you sure look man-size, a little piece off.”

Jimmy grinned at the compliment, but compliments could not alter his purpose. ”I got my ole twenty-two loaded,” he a.s.serted hopefully.

”Then you just ride back and help Mr. Bartley take care of the hosses.

He ain't much of a hand with stock.”