o see the horse whirl and leave for home. But Dobe stood
patiently until his rider had mounted. Bartley glanced round covertly,
wondering if any one had witnessed his impromptu descent. Then he
laughed, realizing that it was a long way to Central Park, flat saddles
and snaffles.

A little later he ate two of the sandwiches Wishful had thoughtfully
provided, and drank from the canteen. Gradually the shadows of the
buttes lengthened. The afternoon heat ebbed away in little, infrequent
puffs of wind. The western reaches of the great mesa seemed to expand,
while the southern horizon drew nearer.

Presently Bartley noticed pony tracks on the road, and either side of
the tracks the mark of wheels. Here the wagon had swung aside to avoid a
bit of bad going, yet the tracks of two horses 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, possibly to tighten a cinch. There was the stub of a
cigarette. Farther along the tracks were lost in the rocky ground of the
petrified forest. He had made twenty miles without realizing it.

Winding in and out among the shattered and fallen trunks of those
prehistoric trees, Bartley forgot where he was until he passed the
bluish-gray sweep of burned earth edging the forest. Presently a few
dwarf junipers appeared. He was getting higher, although the mesa seemed
level. Again he discovered the tracks of the horses in the powdered red
clay of the road.

He crossed a shallow arroyo, sandy and wide. Later he came suddenly upon
a red clay cutbank, and a hint of water where the bank shadowed the
mud-smeared rocks. 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 anywhere, he had better be about it. Dobe
promptly caught the change of his rider's mental attitude and stepped
out briskly. Bartley patted the horse's neck.

It was a pleasure to ride an animal that seemed to want to work with a
man and not against him. The horse had cost one hundred dollars--a fair
price for such a horse in those days. Yet Bartley thought it a very
reasonable price. And he knew he had a bargain. He felt clearly
confident that the big cow-pony would serve him in any circumstance or
hazard.

As a long, undulating stretch of road appeared, softly brown in the
shadows, Bartley began to look about for the w