Git along, cayuse, git along!
But we're leavin' here and--

"What's your hurry?" came from behind him.

Cheyenne turned and glanced back. "Hello, neighbor! Now, if I'd 'a'
knowed you was around, I'd 'a' asked you to have a drink with me."

A tall, heavy-set mountain man, bearded, and limping noticeably, stepped
round the end of the spring fence and strode toward him. From Uncle
Frank's description, Cheyenne at once recognized the stranger as Sneed.
Across Sneed's left arm lay a rifle. Cheyenne saw him let down the
hammer as he drew near.

"Where you headed?" queried Sneed.

"Me, I'm lookin' for Bill Sneed's cabin. You ain't Sneed, are you?"

"Yes, I'm Sneed."

"Well, I'm in luck. I'm Cheyenne Hastings."

"That don't buy you nothin' around here. What do you want to see me
about?"

"Why, I done lost a couple of hosses the other night. I reckon somethin'
stampeded 'em, for they never strayed far from camp before. I trailed
'em up to the hills and then lost their tracks on the rocks. Thought I'd
ride up and see if you had seen 'em--a little ole buckskin and a gray."

Sneed waved his hand toward the east. "My corrals are over there. You're
welcome to look my stock over."

"Thanks. This way, you said?"

"Straight ahead."

Cheyenne hesitated, hoping that Sneed would take the lead. But the
mountain man merely gestured again and followed Cheyenne through a patch
of timber, and across another meadow--and Cheyenne caught a glimpse of
the ridge of a cabin roof, and smoke above it. Close to the cabin was a
large pole corral. Cheyenne saw the backs of Filaree and Joshua, among
the other horses, long before he came to the corral. Yet, not wishing to
appear too eager, he said nothing until he arrived at the corner of the
fence.

Then he turned and pointed. "Them's my hosses--the gray and the
buckskin. I'm mighty glad you caught 'em up."

Sneed nodded. "One of my boys found them in with a bunch of my stock and
run them in here."

A few rods from the corral stood the cabin, larger than Cheyenne had
imagined, and built of heavy logs, with a wide-roofed porch running
across the entire front. On the veranda lay several saddles. Tied to the
hitch rail stood two chunky mountain ponies that showed signs of recent
hard use.

Cheyenne smiled as he turned toward Sneed. "You got a mighty snug
homestead up here, neighbor."

"Tie your horse and step in," invited Sneed.

"He'll stand," said Cheyenne, dismounting and