of the rest of us could.

It did not take me long to realize what my mustang was made of. His
name was Foxie, which suited him well. He carried me at a fast pace on
the trail of some one; and he seemed to know that by keeping in this
trail part of the work of breaking through the brush was already done
for him. Nevertheless, the sharp dead branches, more numerous in a
cedar forest than elsewhere, struck and stung us as we passed. We
climbed a ridge, and found the cedars thinning out into open patches.
Then we faced a bare slope of sage and I saw Emett below on his big
horse.

Foxie bolted down this slope, hurdling the bunches of sage, and
showing the speed of which Emett had boasted. The open ground, with
its brush, rock and gullies, was easy going for the little mustang. I
heard nothing save the wind singing in my ears. Emett's trail, plain
in the yellow ground showed me the way. On entering the cedars again
I pulled Foxie in and stopped twice to yell "waa-hoo!" I heard the
baying of the hounds, but no answer to my signal. Then I attended to
the stern business of catching up. For what seemed a long time, I
threaded the maze of cedar, galloped the open sage flats, always on
Emett's track.

A signal cry, sharp to the right, turned me. I answered, and with the
exchange of signal cries found my way into an open glade where Jones
and Jim awaited me.

"Here's one," said Jim. "Emett must be with the hounds. Listen."

With the labored breathing of the horses filling our ears we could
hear no other sound. Dismounting, I went aside and turned my ear to
the breeze.

"I hear Don," I cried instantly.

"Which way?" both men asked.

"West."

"Strange," said Jones. "The hound wouldn't split, would he, Jim?"

"Don leave that hot trail? Shore he wouldn't," replied Jim. "But his
runnin' do seem queer this morning."

"The breeze is freshening," I said. "There! Now listen! Don, and
Sounder, too."

The baying came closer and closer. Our horses threw up long ears. It
was hard to sit still and wait. At a quick cry from Jim we saw Don
cross the lower end of the flat.

No need to spur our mounts! The lifting of bridles served, and away
we raced. Foxie passed the others in short order. Don had long
disappeared, but with blended bays, Jude, Moze, and Sounder broke out
of the cedars hot on the trail. They, too, were out of sight in a
moment.

The crash of breaking brush and thunder of hoofs from where the hounds
had come out o