Partners of Chance Part 22

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 just two hosses handy, and they're rode down," he muttered as he sped through the shadows of the forest.

Across another sun-swept meadow he rode, and into the timber again--and before he realized it he was back on the mountain trail that led to the valley. He took the first long, easy grade on the run, checked at the switchback, and pounded down the succeeding grade, still under cover of the hillside timber, but rapidly nearing the more open country of brush and rock.

As he reined in at the second switchback he saw, far below, and going at a lively trot, seven or eight horses, and behind them, hazing them along as 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 of turning his horse loose and ambus.h.i.+ng the mountainmen, afoot. But Cheyenne did not want to kill. His greatest fear was that Little Jim might get hurt. As he hesitated, a rifle snarled from the rim above, and he 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 the next bend and then spurred him to a run. Below, Little Jim was jogging along, within a hundred yards or so of the bend that would screen him from 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 as Steel Dust plunged over the end of the turn and crashed through the brush below. A slug whipped through the brush and clipped a twig in front of the horse.

Steel Dust swerved and lunged on down through the heavy brush. A naked creek-bed showed white and s.h.i.+mmering at the bottom of the slope. Again a slug whined through the sunlight and Cheyenne's hat spun from his head and settled squarely on a low bush. It was characteristic of Cheyenne that he grabbed for his hat--and got it as he dashed past.

"Keep the change," said Cheyenne as he ducked beneath a branch and straightened up again. He was almost to the creek-bed, naked to the sunlight, and a bad place to cross with guns going from above. He pulled up, slipped from his horse, and slapped him on the flank.

The pony leaped forward, dashed across the creek-bed, and cut into the trail beyond. A bullet flattened to a silver splash on a boulder.

Another bullet shot a spurt of sand into the air. Cheyenne crouched tense, and then made a rush. A slug sang past his head. Heat palpitated in the narrow draw. He gained the opposite bank, dropped, and crawled through the brush and lay panting, close to the trail. From above him somewhere came the note of a bird: _Chirr-up! Chirr-up!_ Again a slug tore through the brush scattering twigs and tiny leaves on Cheyenne's hat.

"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 round the 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 then another figure. Turning, he saw his own horse quietly nipping at the gra.s.s in the crevices of the rocks along the trail.

He walked down to the horse slowly and caught him up. Loosening his carbine from the scabbard, and deeming himself lucky to have it, after that wild ride down the mountain, he stepped back to the angle of the bend, rested the carbine against a rocky shoulder and dropped a shot in front of the first rider, who stopped suddenly and took to cover.

"That'll hold 'em for a spell," said Cheyenne, stepping back. He mounted and rode on down the trail, eyeing the tracks of the horses that Little Jim was hazing toward the valley below. Cheyenne shook his head. "He's done run off the whole dog-gone outfit! There's nothin' stingy about that kid."

Striking to the lower level, Cheyenne cut across country to his camp. He found Bartley leaning comfortably back against a saddle, reading aloud, and opposite him sat Dorry, so intent upon the reading that she did not hear Cheyenne until he spoke.

"Evenin', folks! Seen anything of Jimmy?"

"Oh--Cheyenne! No, have you?" It was Dorothy who spoke, as Bartley closed the book and got to his feet.

"Was you lookin' for Jimmy's address in that there book?" queried Cheyenne, grinning broadly.

Dorothy flushed and glanced at Bartley, who immediately changed the subject by calling attention to Cheyenne's hat. Cheyenne also changed the subject by stating that Jimmy had recently ridden down the trail toward 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 terribly worried 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 out all 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 s.h.i.+rt is almost ripped from your back!" said Bartley.

"My hoss s.h.i.+ed, back yonder, and stepped off into the brush. We kept on through the brush. It was shorter."

Dorothy mounted her horse, and, nodding farewell to Bartley, accompanied Cheyenne to the ranch. When they were halfway there, Dorothy, who had been riding thoughtfully along, saying nothing, turned to her companion: "Cheyenne, you had trouble up there. You might at least tell _me_ about it."

"Well, Miss Dorry--" And Cheyenne told her how Jimmy had followed him, how he had sent Jimmy back, and the unexpected appearance of that young hopeful in the timber near Sneed's cabin. "I was in there, figurin' hard how to get my hosses and get away, when, somehow, Jimmy got to the corral and turned Sneed's stock loose and hazed 'em down the trail. But where 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 to do with running off his horses--"

"He never saw Jimmy clost enough to tell who he was. 'Course, Sneed knows Aunt Jane is my sister, and most he'll suspicion is that I got help from _some_ of my folks. But so far he don't know _who_ helped me turn the trick."

"You don't seem to be very serious about it," declared Dorothy.

"Serious? Me? Why, ain't most folks serious enough without everybody bein' took that way?"

"Perhaps. But I knew something had happened the minute you rode into camp."

"So did I," a.s.serted 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 of horses!"

"Reckon we better step along," and Cheyenne put Steel Dust to a lope.

CHAPTER XV

MORE PONY TRACKS

Summoned from the west end of the ranch, where he had been irrigating the alfalfa, Uncle Frank arrived at the house just as Cheyenne and Dorothy rode up. Little Jim was excitedly endeavoring to explain to Aunt Jane how the corral came to be filled with strange horses.

Uncle Frank nodded to Cheyenne and turned to Jimmy. "Where you been?"

"I was over on the mountain."

"How did these horses get here?"