him. And I'm ridin'
alone."

Little Jim, meanwhile, had been raking his mind for an idea as to how he
might attract attention. He disappeared. Presently he appeared in front
of the veranda with the end of a long rope in his fist. He blinked and
grinned.

"What's on the other end of that rope?" queried Uncle Frank, immediately
suspicious.

"Nothin' but High-Tail."

"I thought I told you not to rope that calf," said Uncle Frank, rising.

"I didn't. I jest held my loop in front of some carrots and High-Tail
shoves his head into it. Then I says, 'Whoosh!' and he jumps back--and I
hung on."

"How in Sam Hill did you get him here?" queried Uncle Frank.

"Jest held a carrot to his nose--and he walked along tryin' to get it."

"Well you shake off that loop and haze him back into the corral."

High-Tail, having eaten the carrot, decided to go elsewhere. He backed
away and blatted. Little Jim took a quick dally round a veranda post.
High-Tail plunged and fought the rope.

"Turn him loose!" cried Uncle Frank.

"What's the matter?" said Aunt Jane, appearing in the doorway.

Little Jim eased off the dally, but clung to the rope. High-Tail whirled
and started for the corral. Little Jim set back on his heels, but Little
Jim was a mere item in High-Tail's wild career toward freedom. A patter
of hoofs in the dark, and Little Jim and the calf disappeared around the
corner of the barn.

Cheyenne laughed and rose, following Uncle Frank to the corral. When
they arrived, High-Tail had made his third round of the corral, with
Jimmy still attached to the rope. Cheyenne managed to stop the calf and
throw off the noose.

Little Jim rose and gazed wildly around. He was one color, from head to
foot--and it was a decidedly local color. His jeans were torn and his
cotton shirt was in rags, but his grit was unsifted.

"D-didn't I hang to him, dad?" he inquired enthusiastically.

"You sure did!" said Cheyenne.

With a pail of hot water, soap, and fresh raiment, Aunt Jane undertook
to make Little Jim's return to the heart of the family as agreeable as
possible to all concerned.

"Isn't he hurt?" queried Bartley.

"Not if he doesn't know it," stated Cheyenne.

CHAPTER XIV

ANOTHER GAME

Cheyenne knew enough about Sneed, by reputation, to make him cautious.
He decided to play ace for ace--and, if possible, steal the stolen
horses from Sneed. The difficulty was to locate them without being seen.
Little Jim had sa