eart on
going with his father. And his father had said that he was simply going
to ride up to Sneed's place and have a talk with him. Jimmy wanted to
hear that talk. He knew that his father meant business when he had told
him to go back.

"All right for you!" said Jimmy finally. And he reined his pony round
and rode back down the trail sullenly, his black hat pulled over his
eyes, 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 task
ahead. When Little Jim realized that his father was so far into the
timber that the trail below was shut from view, he reined his pony round
again and began to climb the grade, slowly, this time, for fear that he
might overtake his father too soon.

Riding the soundless upland trail that meandered among the spruce and
pine, skirting the edges of the mountain meadows and keeping within the
timber, 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 the
meadows. Presently Cheyenne came to a narrow trail which crossed a
meadow. 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 the
marks of high-heeled boots. Cheyenne realized that he must be close to
Sneed'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 close
to a habitation--although he could see none--to do otherwise. So he
dismounted and, tying his horse to the spring fence, he stepped through
the gate and picked up the rusted tin cup and dipped it in the cold
mountain water. He had the cup halfway to his lips when his horse
nickered. From somewhere in the brush came an answering nicker.
Cheyenne, kneeling, threw the water from the cup as though he had
discovered dirt in it, and dipped the cup again.

Behind him he heard his horse moving restlessly. As Cheyenne raised the
cup to drink, he half closed his eyes, and glancing sideways, caught a
glimpse of a figure standing near the upper end of the spring fence.
Cheyenne drank, set down the cup, and, rising, turned his back on the
figure, and, stretching his arms, yawned heartily. He strode to his
horse, untied the reins, mounted, and began to sing:

Seems like I don't get anywhere