, although he was grain-fed and ready to go. When Dobe trotted--an easy, swinging trot that ate into the miles--Bartley tried to post, Englis

g a trot with a straight leg, and to his surprise he found it

smooth as the swing of a pendulum. Finally Bartley settled to the best long-distance gait of all, the running walk, and began to enjoy the vista; the wide-sweeping, southern reaches dotted with buttes, t

earn through experience that a spade bit requires delicate handling. He was jogging along easily when he turned to glance back at the town--now a f

cted to see the horse whirl and leave for home. But Dobe stood patiently until his rider had mounted. Bartley glanced round covertly, wonderin

. Gradually the shadows of the buttes lengthened. The afternoon heat ebbed away in little, infrequent puf

orses still kept the middle of the road. "Senator Brown--and Cheyenne," thought Bartley, studying the tracks. He became interested in them. Here, again, Cheyenne had dismounted, possib

passed the bluish-gray sweep of burned earth edging the forest. Presently a few dwarf junipers appeared. He was getting

cks. He rode slowly, preoccupied in studying the country. The sun showed close to the rim of the world when he finally realized that, if he meant to get an

e hundred dollars--a fair price for such a horse in those days. Yet Bartley thought it a very reasonable price. And h

o look about for the water-hole which Wishful had spoken about. The sun slipped from sight.

d his coat and swung into it. An early star flared over the southern hills. He wondered if he had passed the water-hole. He had a canteen, but Dobe would need water. But Dobe was thoroughly familiar with the trail from Antelope to the Whit

he horse, urging him forward. Dobe turned and marched deliberately away from the road, heading toward the west, and nickered. From behind the screen of junipers came an answering nic

rope, and a battered canteen and t

shouted

gure loomed in the dusk, and C

er-hole?" Bartle

ut I didn't quite get you till I seen your face. I thought I knowed your voice, but I never did

't know just w

coffee goin'--and some bacon. Ligh

my horse and st

see you're ridin' Dobe.

bough

mind tellin'

undr

ishful

N

where it is. Just lift off your saddle and turn him loose--or mebby you be

ake-rope," s

here. I'll make you a pair of hobbles,

e are

re somewhere. They neve

t a piece of soft rope and make

him in shape. And them hobbles won't burn him. Any

if Panhandle had been seen in town since the night of the crap

mewhere," said Cheyenne. "You

es

ure give you the

a few days, if the Sena

e a bronc, nohow, and that you never took down a rope in your life, and that all you know about cattle is what you've et, and then the boys will use you white. There's nothin' puts a

most effectively. And while Bartley ate his supper, Chey

w, singin' and packin' the news around to everybody. 'Course folks read the paper and hear about somebody gettin' married, or gettin' shot o

locked horns with a outfit runnin' sheep just south of Springerville. Now, I hadn't been down that way for about six months, but I had heard of that ruckus. So after Steve lets me sing a couple of songs, and I got to feelin' comfortable with t

was a young, long, spindlin' hombre from Texas--a reg'lar Whicker-bill, with that drawlin' kind of a voice that hosses and

ays, slow and easy, that if I was around there next mornin', he would explain all about that ruckus to me, when the ladies weren't present, so I wouldn't get it wrong, next time. I seen I had made a mistake for myse

shot?" queried B

that Texas gent would get shot. You

me wood on the fire. Then he stepped down to the water-hole and washed the plates and cups. Bartley could hear the peculiar thumping sound of hobbled horses moving about on the mesa. Cheye

n," said Cheyenne. "And you might throw some dirt on that fire.

addle out to the dist

and boots and turn

y he heard Cheyenne snore. The Big Dipper grew dim. Then a coyote yelped--a shrill

the tramping of horses, a sound that ran al

touched Bartley. "Five or si

hor

Mebby som

s," sugges

ain't so pop

but a moment later that he was wide awake and C

r hosses," s

ho

dun

Scott, how far is it to

miles, by road. I

ots. From the far hills came the faint

s on us," s

't no joke," s