hey turned towards him
and whinnied as if in relief at the knowledge of his presence. But
almost instantly turned again to gaze far out into the night. Wonderful
indeed is a horse's instinct, but even more wonderful is the keenness of
his sight and hearing.

Nat patted his broncho on the neck, and then stood beside him
watching--listening. Was it fancy, or was it fact? The faintest sound of
a horse galloping reached him; at least, he thought so.

He returned to the fire sullenly antagonistic. He did not return to his
blanket, but sat silently smoking and thinking. He hated the constant
reference to his inexperience on the prairie. If even he did hear a
horse galloping in the distance it didn't matter. But it was his ears
that had first caught the sound in spite of his inexperience. His
companion pigheadedly derided the fact because his own ears were not
sufficiently keen to have detected the sound himself.

Thus he sat for a few minutes gazing into the fire. Jake was now snoring
loudly, and Nat was glad to be relieved from the tones of his sneering
voice. Presently he rose softly from his seat, and taking his saddle
blanket, saddled and bridled his horse. Then he mounted and silently
rode off towards the herd. It was his relief on the cattle guard.

Jim Bowley welcomed him with the genial heartiness of a man who knows
that he has finished his vigil and that he can now lie down to rest. The
guarding of a large herd at night is always an anxious time. Cattle are
strange things to handle. A stampede will often involve a week's weary
scouring of the prairie.

Just as Jim Bowley was about to ride up to the camp, Nat fired a
question which he had been some time meditating.

"Guess you didn't hear a horse gallopin' jest now, pard?" he asked
quietly.

"Why cert, boy," the other answered quickly, "only a deaf mule could 'a'
missed it. Some one passed right under the ridge thar, away to the
southwest. Guess they wer' travelin' mighty fast too. Why?"

"Oh, nothin', Jim, on'y I guess Jake Bond's that same deaf mule you
spoke of. He's too fond of gettin' at youngsters, the old fossil. I told
'im as I 'card suthin', an' 'e told me as I was a tenderfoot and didn't
know wot I was gassin' about."

"Jake's a cantankerous cuss, boy. Let 'im gas; 'e don't cut any figger
anyway. Say, you keep yer eye peeled on some o' the young heifers on the
far side o' the bunch. They're rustlin' some. They keep mouching after
new grass. When t