rew. Calling his point, he snapped
his fingers and threw again. The men crowded round, momentarily
interested in Cheyenne's sprightly monologue. Happening to glance
through the doorway as he gathered up the dice for another throw,
Cheyenne noticed that his horse had turned and was standing, with ears
and eyes alert, looking toward the corral.

Cheyenne tossed up the dice, caught them and purposely made a wild
throw. One of the little cubes shot across the table and clattered on
the floor. Cheyenne barely had time to glance through the kitchen
doorway and the window beyond as he recovered the cube. But he had seen
that the corral bars were down and that the corral was empty. Quickly he
resumed his place at the table and threw again, meanwhile talking
steadily. He had not made his point nor had he thrown a seven. Sweat
prickled on his forehead. Little Jim had seen his father's horses and
knew that the men were in the cabin. With the rashness of boyhood he had
sneaked up to the corral, dropped the bars, and had then flung pine
cones at the horses, starting them to milling and finally to a dash
through the gateway and out into the meadow.

Cheyenne brushed his arm across his face. "Come on you, Filaree!" he
chanted.

Somebody would be mightily surprised when the ownership of Filaree and
Joshua was finally decided. Unwittingly, Little Jim had placed his
father in a still more precarious position. Sneed and his men, finding
the corral empty, would naturally conclude that Cheyenne had kept them
busy while some friend had run off the horses. Cheyenne knew the risks
he ran; but, above all, he wanted to prolong the game until Little Jim
got safely beyond reach of Sneed's men. As for himself--

Again Cheyenne threw, but he did not make his point, nor throw a seven.
He threw several times; and still he did not make his point. Finally he
made his point. Smiling, he gathered up his money and tucked it in his
pocket.

"I reckon that settles it," he said cheerfully.

Sneed and Lawson exchanged glances. Cheyenne, rolling a cigarette, drew
a chair toward them and sat down. He seemed at home, and altogether
friendly. One of the men picked up a deck of cards and suggested a game.
Sneed lighted his pipe and stepped to the kitchen to get a drink of
water. Cheyenne glanced casually round the cabin, drew his feet under
himself, and jumped for the doorway. He heard Sneed drop the dipper and
knew that Sneed would pick up something else, a