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 stolenhorses from Sneed. The difficulty was to locate them without being seen.Little Jim had said the horses were in Sneed's corral, somewhere up inthe mountain meadows. And because Cheyenne knew little about thatparticular section of the mountains, he rolled a blanket and packed someprovisions to see him through. Bartley and he had returned to their campafter their visit to the ranch, and next morning, as Cheyenne madepreparation to ride, Bartley offered to go with him.
Cheyenne dissuaded Bartley from accompanying him, arguing that he couldtravel faster and more cautiously alone. "One man ridin' in to Sneed'scamp wouldn't look as suspicious as two," said Cheyenne. "And if Ithought 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 theunderstanding that, if Cheyenne did not return in two days, he was toreport the circumstance to the authorities in San Andreas, the principaltown of the valley.
Meanwhile, the regular routine prevailed at the Lawrence ranch. UncleFrank had the irrigation plant to look after; and Aunt Jane was immersedin the endless occupation of housekeeping. Little Jim had his regularlight 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 disappearedcompletely, as had his saddle-pony.
At first, Jimmy had thought of riding over to his father's camp, but hewas afraid his father would guess his intent and send him back home. Sohe 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 takethe trail that led into the high country. A half-hour later, Jimmymounted his pony and, riding wide of the camp, he cut into the hilltrail and followed it on up through the brush to the hillside timber. Heplanned to ride until he got so far into the mountains that when he didovertake his father and offer his assistance in locating the stolenhorses, it would hardly seem worth while to send him back. Jimmyexpected to be ordered back, but he had his own argument ready in thatevent.
Little Jim's pony carried him swiftly up the grade. Meanwhile, Cheyennehad traveled rather slowly, saving his horse. At a bend in the trail hedrew rein to breathe the animal. On the lookout for any moving thing, heglanced back and down--and saw an old black hat bobbing along throughthe 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 likedadventure. Little Jim might have stayed in camp, with Bartley, and spenta joyous day shooting at a mark, incidentally hinting to the Easternerthat "his ole twenty-two was about worn out." But Little Jim had chosento follow his father into the hills.
"Reckon he figures to see what'll happen," muttered Cheyenne as he ledhis horse off the trail and waited for Jimmy to come up.
Little Jim's black hat bobbed steadily up the switchbacks. Presently hewas 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 pricked its ears andsnorted. "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'tgoin' no place."
"Well, you took the wrong trail to get there. You fan it back to thefolks."
"Aunt Jane is my boss!" said Jimmy defiantly. "'Course she is," agreedCheyenne. "You and me, we're just pardners. But, honest, Jimmy, youcan't do no good, doggin' along after me. Your Aunt Jane would surestretch 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'llfind 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 toyou? You'd sure need help."
"That's just it! Supposin' they did? And supposin' they took a crack atus, they might git you--for you sure look man-size, a little piece off."
Jimmy grinned at the compliment, but compliments could not alter hispurpose. "I got my ole twenty-two loaded," he asserted hopefully.
"Then you just ride back and help Mr. Bartley take care of the hosses.He ain't much of a hand with stock."
"Can't I go with you?"
"Not this trip, son. But I'll tell you somethin'. Mr. Bartley, downthere, said to me this mornin' that he was goin' to buy you a brand-newtwenty-two rifle, one of these days: mebby after we locate the hosses.You better have a talk with him about it."
This _was_ a temptation to ride back: yet Jimmy had set his heart ongoing with his father. And his father had said that he was simply goingto ride up to Sneed's place and have a talk with him. Jimmy wanted tohear that talk. He knew that his father meant business when he had toldhim to go back.
"All right for you!" said Jimmy finally. And he reined his pony roundand rode back down the trail sullenly, his black hat pulled over hiseyes, and his small back very straight and stiff.
Cheyenne watched him until the brush of the lower levels intervened.Then Cheyenne began the ascent, his eye alert, his mind upon the taskahead. When Little Jim realized that his father was so far into thetimber that the trail below was shut from view, he reined his pony roundagain and began to climb the grade, slowly, this time, for fear that hemight overtake his father too soon.
Riding the soundless upland trail that meandered among the spruce andpine, skirting the edges of the mountain meadows and keeping within thetimber, Cheyenne finally reached the main ridge of the range.Occasionally he dismounted and examined the tracks of horses.
It was evident that Sneed had quite a bunch of horses running in themeadows. Presently Cheyenne came to a narrow trail which crossed ameadow. At the far end of the trail, close to the timber, was a spring,fenced with poles. The spring itself was boxed, and roundabout were themarks of high-heeled boots. Cheyenne realized that he must be close toSneed's cabin. He wondered if he had been seen.
If he had, the only thing to do was to act natural. He was now too closeto a habitation--although he could see none--to do otherwise. So hedismounted and, tying his horse to the spring fence, he stepped throughthe gate and picked up the rusted tin cup and dipped it in the coldmountain water. He had the cup halfway to his lips when his horsenickered. From somewhere in the brush came an answering nicker.Cheyenne, kneeling, threw the water from the cup as though he haddiscovered dirt in it, and dipped the cup again.
Behind him he heard his horse moving restlessly. As Cheyenne raised thecup to drink, he half closed his eyes, and glancing sideways, caught aglimpse of a figure standing near the upper end of the spring fence.Cheyenne drank, set down the cup, and, rising, turned his back on thefigure, and, stretching his arms, yawned heartily. He strode to hishorse, untied the reins, mounted, and began to sing:
Seems like I don't get anywhere Git along, cayuse, git along! But we're leavin' here and--
"What's your hurry?" came from behind him.
Cheyenne turned and glanced back. "Hello, neighbor! Now, if I'd 'a'knowed you was around, I'd 'a' asked you to have a drink with me."
A tall, heavy-set mountain man, bearded, and limping noticeably, steppedround the end of the spring fence and strode toward him. From UncleFrank's description, Cheyenne at once recognized the stranger as Sneed.Across Sneed's left arm lay a rifle. Cheyenne saw him let down thehammer as he drew near.
"Where you headed?" queried Sneed.
"Me, I'm lookin' for Bill Sneed's cabin. You ain't Sneed, are you?"
"Yes, I'm Sneed."
"Well, I'm in luck. I'm Cheyenne Hastings."
"That don't buy you nothin' around here. What
do you want to see meabout?"
"Why, I done lost a couple of hosses the other night. I reckon somethin'stampeded 'em, for they never strayed far from camp before. I trailed'em up to the hills and then lost their tracks on the rocks. Thought I'dride up and see if you had seen 'em--a little ole buckskin and a gray."
Sneed waved his hand toward the east. "My corrals are over there. You'rewelcome to look my stock over."
"Thanks. This way, you said?"
"Straight ahead."
Cheyenne hesitated, hoping that Sneed would take the lead. But themountain man merely gestured again and followed Cheyenne through a patchof timber, and across another meadow--and Cheyenne caught a glimpse ofthe ridge of a cabin roof, and smoke above it. Close to the cabin was alarge pole corral. Cheyenne saw the backs of Filaree and Joshua, amongthe other horses, long before he came to the corral. Yet, not wishing toappear too eager, he said nothing until he arrived at the corner of thefence.
Then he turned and pointed. "Them's my hosses--the gray and thebuckskin. I'm mighty glad you caught 'em up."
Sneed nodded. "One of my boys found them in with a bunch of my stock andrun them in here."
A few rods from the corral stood the cabin, larger than Cheyenne hadimagined, and built of heavy logs, with a wide-roofed porch runningacross the entire front. On the veranda lay several saddles. Tied to thehitch rail stood two chunky mountain ponies that showed signs of recenthard use.
Cheyenne smiled as he turned toward Sneed. "You got a mighty snughomestead up here, neighbor."
"Tie your horse and step in," invited Sneed.
"He'll stand," said Cheyenne, dismounting and dropping the reins.
Cheyenne was in the enemy's country. But he trusted to his ability toplay up to his reputation for an easy-going hobo to get him out again,without trouble. He appeared unaware of the covert suspicion with whichSneed watched his every movement.
"Meet the boys," said Sneed as they entered the cabin.
Cheyenne nodded to the four men who sat playing cards at a long table inthe main room. They returned his nod indifferently and went on withtheir game. Cheyenne pretended an interest in the game, meanwhilestudying the visible characteristics of the players. One and all theywere hard-boiled, used to the open, rough-spoken, and indifferent toCheyenne's presence.
Sneed stepped to the kitchen and pulled the coffee-pot to the front ofthe stove. Finally Cheyenne strolled out to the veranda and seatedhimself on the long bench near the doorway. He picked up a stick andbegan to whittle, and as he whittled his gaze traveled from the logstable to the corral, and from there to the edge of the clearing. Heheard Sneed speak to one of the men in a low voice. Cheyenne slipped hisknife into his pocket and his fingers touched the pair of dice.
He drew out the dice and rattled them. "Go 'way, you snake eyes!" hechanted as he threw the dice along the bench. "Little Jo, where youbushin' out? You sure are bashful!" He threw again. "Roll on, youbox-car! I don't like you, nohow! Nine? Nine? Five and a four! Six and athree! Just as easy!"
Sneed came to the doorway and glanced at Cheyenne, who continuedshooting craps with himself, oblivious to Sneed's muttered comment.Sneed turned and stepped in. "Crazy as a hoot owl," he said as one ofthe card-players glanced up.
Cheyenne picked up the dice and listened. He heard Sneed steppingheavily about the kitchen, and he heard an occasional and vividexclamation from one of the card-players. He glanced at the distant edgeof timber. He shook his head. "Can't make it!" he declared, and again hethrew the dice.
One of the cubes rolled off the bench. He stooped and picked it up. Ashe straightened, he stared. Just at the edge of the timber he saw LittleJim's pony, and Little Jim's black hat. Some one in the cabin pushedback a chair. Evidently the card game was finished.
Then Cheyenne heard Sneed's voice: "Just lay off that game, if you wantto eat. Come and get it."
Wondering what Little Jim was up to, Cheyenne turned and walked into thecabin. "Guess I'll wash up, first," he said, gazing about as thoughlooking for the wherewithal to wash. He knew well enough where the basinwas. He had noticed it out by the kitchen door, when he rode up to thecabin. Sneed told him where to find the basin. Cheyenne stepped roundthe cabin. Covertly he glanced toward the edge of the timber. Little Jimhad disappeared.
Entering the cabin briskly, Cheyenne took his place at the table and ateheartily.
Lawson, who seemed to be Sneed's right-hand man, was the first to speakto him. "Bill tells me you are huntin' hosses."
"Yep! That little gray and the buckskin, out in your corral, are myhosses. They strayed--"
"Didn't see no brand on 'em," declared Lawson.
"Nope. They never was branded. I raised 'em both, when I was workin' forSenator Steve, over to the Box-S."
"That sounds all right. But you got to show me. I bought them cayusesfrom a Chola, down in the valley."
Cheyenne suspected that Lawson was trying to create argument and, in sodoing, open up a way to make him back down and leave or take theconsequences of his act in demanding the horses.
"Honest, they're my hosses," declared Cheyenne, turning to Sneed.
"You'll have to talk to Lawson," said Sneed.
Cheyenne frowned and scratched his head. Suddenly his face brightened."Tell you what I'll do! I'll shoot you craps for 'em."
"That's all right, but what'll you put up against 'em?" asked Lawson.
"What did you pay for 'em?" queried Cheyenne.
"Fifty bucks."
"You got 'em cheap. They're worth that much to me." Cheyenne pushed backhis chair and, fishing in his jeans, dug up a purse. "Here's my fifty.As soon as you get through eatin' we'll shoot for the ponies."
Lawson, while finishing his meal, made up his mind that Cheyenne wouldnot get away with that fifty dollars, game or no game; and, also, thathe would not get the horses. Cheyenne knew this--knew the kind of man hewas dealing with. But he had a reason to keep the men in the cabin.Little Jim was out there somewhere, and up to something. If any of themen happened to catch sight of Little Jim, they would suspect Cheyenneof some trickery. Moreover, if Little Jim were caught--but Cheyennerefused to let himself think of what might happen in that event.
Cheyenne threw the dice on the table as Lawson got up. "Go ahead andshoot."
"Show me what I got to beat," said Lawson.
"All right. Watch 'em close."
Cheyenne gathered up the dice and threw. Calling his point, he snappedhis fingers and threw again. The men crowded round, momentarilyinterested in Cheyenne's sprightly monologue. Happening to glancethrough the doorway as he gathered up the dice for another throw,Cheyenne noticed that his horse had turned and was standing, with earsand eyes alert, looking toward the corral.
Cheyenne tossed up the dice, caught them and purposely made a wildthrow. One of the little cubes shot across the table and clattered onthe floor. Cheyenne barely had time to glance through the kitchendoorway and the window beyond as he recovered the cube. But he had seenthat the corral bars were down and that the corral was empty. Quickly heresumed his place at the table and threw again, meanwhile talkingsteadily. He had not made his point nor had he thrown a seven. Sweatprickled on his forehead. Little Jim had seen his father's horses andknew that the men were in the cabin. With the rashness of boyhood he hadsneaked up to the corral, dropped the bars, and had then flung pinecones at the horses, starting them to milling and finally to a dashthrough the gateway and out into the meadow.
Cheyenne brushed his arm across his face. "Come on you, Filaree!" hechanted.
Somebody would be mightily surprised when the ownership of Filaree andJoshua was finally decided. Unwittingly, Little Jim had placed hisfather in a still more precarious position. Sneed and his men, findingthe corral empty, would naturally conclude that Cheyenne had kept thembusy while some friend had run off the horses. Cheyenne knew the riskshe ran; but, above all, he wanted to prolong the game until Little Jimgot safely beyond reach of Sneed's men. As for himself--
Again Cheyenne threw, but he did
not make his point, nor throw a seven.He threw several times; and still he did not make his point. Finally hemade his point. Smiling, he gathered up his money and tucked it in hispocket.
"I reckon that settles it," he said cheerfully.
Sneed and Lawson exchanged glances. Cheyenne, rolling a cigarette, drewa chair toward them and sat down. He seemed at home, and altogetherfriendly. One of the men picked up a deck of cards and suggested a game.Sneed lighted his pipe and stepped to the kitchen to get a drink ofwater. Cheyenne glanced casually round the cabin, drew his feet underhimself, and jumped for the doorway. He heard Sneed drop the dipper andknew that Sneed would pick up something else, and quickly.
Cheyenne made the saddle on the run, reined toward the corral, and,passing it on the run, turned in the saddle to glance back. Sneed was inthe doorway. Cheyenne jerked his horse to one side and dug in the spurs.Sneed's rifle barked and a bullet whined past Cheyenne's head. Hecrouched in the saddle. Again a bullet whistled across the sunlitclearing. The cow-horse was going strong. A tree flicked past, thenanother and another.
Cheyenne straightened in the saddle and glanced back through the timber.He saw a jumble of men and horses in front of the cabin. "They got justtwo hosses handy, and they're rode down," he muttered as he sped throughthe shadows of the forest.
Across another sun-swept meadow he rode, and into the timber again--andbefore he realized it he was back on the mountain trail that led to thevalley. He took the first long, easy grade on the run, checked at theswitchback, and pounded down the succeeding grade, still under cover ofthe hillside timber, but rapidly nearing the more open country of brushand rock.
As he reined in at the second switchback he saw, far below, and going ata lively trot, seven or eight horses, and behind them, hazing them alongas fast as the trail would permit, Little Jim.
"If Sneed's outfit gets to the rim before he makes the next turn,they'll get him sure," reasoned Cheyenne.
He thought of turning back and trying to stop Sneed's men. He thought ofturning his horse loose and ambushing the mountainmen, afoot. ButCheyenne did not want to kill. His greatest fear was that Little Jimmight get hurt. As he hesitated, a rifle snarled from the rim above, andhe saw Little Jim's horse flinch and jump forward.
"I reckon it's up to us, old Steel Dust," he said to his horse.
Hoping to draw the fire of the men above, he eased his horse round thenext bend and then spurred him to a run. Below, Little Jim was joggingalong, within a hundred yards or so of the bend that would screen himfrom sight. Realizing that he could never make the next turn on the run,Cheyenne gripped with his knees, and leaned back to meet the shock asSteel Dust plunged over the end of the turn and crashed through thebrush below. A slug whipped through the brush and clipped a twig infront of the horse.
Steel Dust swerved and lunged on down through the heavy brush. A nakedcreek-bed showed white and shimmering at the bottom of the slope. Againa slug whined through the sunlight and Cheyenne's hat spun from his headand settled squarely on a low bush. It was characteristic of Cheyennethat he grabbed for his hat--and got it as he dashed past.
"Keep the change," said Cheyenne as he ducked beneath a branch andstraightened up again. He was almost to the creek-bed, naked to thesunlight, and a bad place to cross with guns going from above. He pulledup, slipped from his horse, and slapped him on the flank.
The pony leaped forward, dashed across the creek-bed, and cut into thetrail beyond. A bullet flattened to a silver splash on a boulder.Another bullet shot a spurt of sand into the air. Cheyenne crouchedtense, and then made a rush. A slug sang past his head. Heat palpitatedin the narrow draw. He gained the opposite bank, dropped, and crawledthrough the brush and lay panting, close to the trail. From above himsomewhere came the note of a bird: _Chirr-up! Chirr-up!_ Again a slugtore through the brush scattering twigs and tiny leaves on Cheyenne'shat.
"That one didn't say, 'Cheer up!'" murmured Cheyenne.
When he had caught his breath he crawled out and into the narrow trail.The shooting had ceased. Evidently the men were riding. Stepping roundthe shoulder of the next bend, he peered up toward the rim of the range.A tiny figure appeared riding down the first long grade, and thenanother figure. Turning, he saw his own horse quietly nipping at thegrass in the crevices of the rocks along the trail.
He walked down to the horse slowly and caught him up. Loosening hiscarbine from the scabbard, and deeming himself lucky to have it, afterthat wild ride down the mountain, he stepped back to the angle of thebend, rested the carbine against a rocky shoulder and dropped a shot infront of the first rider, who stopped suddenly and took to cover.
"That'll hold 'em for a spell," said Cheyenne, stepping back. He mountedand rode on down the trail, eyeing the tracks of the horses that LittleJim was hazing toward the valley below. Cheyenne shook his head. "He'sdone run off the whole dog-gone outfit! There's nothin' stingy aboutthat kid."
Striking to the lower level, Cheyenne cut across country to his camp. Hefound Bartley leaning comfortably back against a saddle, reading aloud,and opposite him sat Dorry, so intent upon the reading that she did nothear Cheyenne until he spoke.
"Evenin', folks! Seen anything of Jimmy?"
"Oh--Cheyenne! No, have you?" It was Dorothy who spoke, as Bartleyclosed the book and got to his feet.
"Was you lookin' for Jimmy's address in that there book?" queriedCheyenne, grinning broadly.
Dorothy flushed and glanced at Bartley, who immediately changed thesubject by calling attention to Cheyenne's hat. Cheyenne also changedthe subject by stating that Jimmy had recently ridden down the trailtoward the ranch--with some horses.
"Then you got your horses?" said Bartley.
"I reckon they're over to the ranch about now."
"Jimmy has been gone all day," said Dorothy. "Aunt Jane is terriblyworried about him."
"Jimmy and me took a little ride in the hills," said Cheyenne casually."But you needn't to tell Aunt Jane that Jimmy was with me. It turned outall right."
"I rode over to your camp to look for Jimmy," said Dorothy, "but Mr.Bartley had not seen him."
Cheyenne nodded and reined his horse round.
"Why, your shirt is almost ripped from your back!" said Bartley.
"My hoss shied, back yonder, and stepped off into the brush. We kept onthrough the brush. It was shorter."
Dorothy mounted her horse, and, nodding farewell to Bartley, accompaniedCheyenne to the ranch. When they were halfway there, Dorothy, who hadbeen riding thoughtfully along, saying nothing, turned to her companion:"Cheyenne, you had trouble up there. You might at least tell _me_ aboutit."
"Well, Miss Dorry--" And Cheyenne told her how Jimmy had followed him,how he had sent Jimmy back, and the unexpected appearance of that younghopeful in the timber near Sneed's cabin. "I was in there, figurin' hardhow to get my hosses and get away, when, somehow, Jimmy got to thecorral and turned Sneed's stock loose and hazed 'em down the trail. Butwhere he run 'em to is the joke. I figured he would show up at our camp.It would be just like him to run the whole bunch into the ranch corral.And I reckon he done it."
"But, Mr. Sneed!" exclaimed Dorothy. "If he finds out we had anything todo with running off his horses--"
"He never saw Jimmy clost enough to tell who he was. 'Course, Sneedknows Aunt Jane is my sister, and most he'll suspicion is that I gothelp from _some_ of my folks. But so far he don't know _who_ helped meturn the trick."
"You don't seem to be very serious about it," declared Dorothy.
"Serious? Me? Why, ain't most folks serious enough without everybodybein' took that way?"
"Perhaps. But I knew something had happened the minute you rode intocamp."
"So did I," asserted Cheyenne, and he spoke sharply to his horse.
Dorothy flushed. "Cheyenne, I rode over to find Jimmy. You needn't--Oh,there's Aunt Jane now! And there's Jimmy, and the corral is full ofhorses!"
"Reckon we better step along," and Cheyenne put Steel Dust to a lope.
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