ller."

"I was thinking of that."

"Well, right here is where I quit thinkin' about it and talkin' about
it. If that dog of yours there was to kill a coyote, in a fair fight, I
reckon he wouldn't think about it long."

A few minutes later Cheyenne spoke of the country they were in.

"She's rough and unfriendly, right here," he said. "But north a ways she
sure makes up for it. There's big spruce and high mesas and grass to
your pony's knees and water 'most anywhere you look for it. I ain't much
on huntin'. But there's plenty deer and wild turkey up that way, and
some bear. And with a bent pin and a piece of string a fella can catch
all the trout he wants. Arizona is a mighty surprisin' State, in spots.
Most folks from the East think she's sagebrush and sand, except the
Grand Canon; but that's kind of rented out to tourists, most of the
time. I like the Painted Desert better."

"Where haven't you been?" said Bartley, laughing.

"Well, I ain't been North for quite a spell."

And Cheyenne fell silent, thinking of Laramie, of the broad prairies of
Wyoming, of his old homestead, and the days when he was happy with his
wife and Little Jim. But he was not silent long. He visioned a plan that
he might work out, after he had seen Aunt Jane and Uncle Frank again.
Meanwhile, the sun was shining, the road wound among the ragged hills,
and Filaree and Joshua stepped along briskly, their hoof-beats
suggesting the rhythm of a song.

That night they camped in the hill country not far from a crossroads
store. In the morning they bought a few provisions and an extra canteen.

"There's a piece of country between here and the real hills that is like
to be dry," explained Cheyenne. "We're leavin' the road, this mornin',
and cuttin' north. She's some rough, the way we're headed, but you'll
like it."

From the sagebrush of the southern slopes they climbed slowly up to a
country of scattered juniper. By noon they were among the pinons,
following a dim bridle trail that Cheyenne's horses seemed to know.

"In a couple of days, I aim to spring a surprise on you," said Cheyenne
as they turned in that night. "I figure to show you somethin' you been
wantin' to see."

"Bring on your bears," said Bartley, laughing.

Cheyenne's moodiness had vanished. Frequently he hummed his old trail
song as they rode. Next day, as they nooned among the spruce of the high
country, Cheyenne suddenly drew the dice from his pocket and, turning
them in his