down. "The little cuss!"
he exclaimed, grinning. Then his expression changed. "Won't do, a-tall!
His aunt will be havin' fits--and Miss Dorry'll be helpin' her to have
'em, if she hears of it. Dog-gone that boy!"

Nevertheless, Cheyenne was pleased. His boy had sand, and liked
adventure. Little Jim might have stayed in camp, with Bartley, and spent
a joyous day shooting at a mark, incidentally hinting to the Easterner
that "his ole twenty-two was about worn out." But Little Jim had chosen
to follow his father into the hills.

"Reckon he figures to see what'll happen," muttered Cheyenne as he led
his horse off the trail and waited for Jimmy to come up.

Little Jim's black hat bobbed steadily up the switchbacks. Presently he
was on the stretch of trail at the end of which his father waited,
concealed in the brush.

As Little Jim's pony approached the bend it pricked its ears and
snorted. "Git along, you!" said Jimmy.

"Where you goin'?" queried Cheyenne, stepping out on the trail.

Little Jim gazed blankly at his father. "I'm just a-ridin'. I wa'n't
goin' no place."

"Well, you took the wrong trail to get there. You fan it back to the
folks."

"Aunt Jane is my boss!" said Jimmy defiantly. "'Course she is," agreed
Cheyenne. "You and me, we're just pardners. But, honest, Jimmy, you
can't do no good, doggin' along after me. Your Aunt Jane would sure
stretch my hide if she knowed I let you come along."

"I won't tell her."

"But she'd find out. You just ride back and wait down at my camp. I'll
find them hosses, all right."

Little Jim hesitated, twisting his fingers in his pony's mane.
"Suppose," he ventured, "that a bunch of Sneed's riders was to run on to
you? You'd sure need help."

"That's just it! Supposin' they did? And supposin' they took a crack at
us, they might git you--for you sure look man-size, a little piece off."

Jimmy grinned at the compliment, but compliments could not alter his
purpose. "I got my ole twenty-two loaded," he asserted hopefully.

"Then you just ride back and help Mr. Bartley take care of the hosses.
He ain't much of a hand with stock."

"Can't I go with you?"

"Not this trip, son. But I'll tell you somethin'. Mr. Bartley, down
there, said to me this mornin' that he was goin' to buy you a brand-new
twenty-two rifle, one of these days: mebby after we locate the hosses.
You better have a talk with him about it."

This _was_ a temptation to ride back: yet Jimmy had set his h