my ideas about his age
making him reckless, though he was cautious enough, to be sure. One day,
not long ago, he had a run-in with two sheepmen out by the U bend of the
creek, who had driven their herds up on Cross Bar-8 land and over the
dead-line established by the ranch. They must have taken him for some
Cross Bar-8 puncher and thought he was going to kick up a fuss about the
trespass, or else they recognized him. Anyway, when I got on the scene
they were ready to be planted, which I did for them. Then I went after
him on a plain trail north--and almost too plain to suit me, because it
looked like it had been made plain as an invitation. He had picked out
the softest ground and left plenty of good tracks. But I was some mad
and didn't care much what I run into. I thought he had driven the whole
blasted herd of baa-baas over that high bank and into the creek, for the
number of dead sheep was shore scandalous.

"I followed that cussed trail north, east, south, west and then all
over the whole United States, it seemed to me. And it was always
growing older, because I had to waste time in dodging chaparrals and
things like that that might hold him and his gun. I went picking my
way on a roundabout course past thickets of honey mesquite and cactus
gardens, over alkali flats and everything else, and the more I fooled
about the madder I got. I ain't no real, genuine fool, and I've had
some experience at trailing, but I had to confess that I was just a
plain, ordinary monkey-on-a-stick when stacked up against a kid that was
only about half my age, because suddenly the plainness of the trail
disappeared and I was left out on the middle of a burning desert to
guess the answer as best I could. I knew what he had done, all right,
but that didn't help me a whole lot. Did you ever trail anybody that used
padded-leather footpads on his cayuse's feet, and that went on a
walk, picking out the hardest ground? No? Well, I have, and it's no cinch.

"I got tired of chasing myself back to the same place four times out of
five, and I reckons that it wouldn't be very long before he had made his
circle and got me in front of him. It ain't no church fair to be hunting
a mad devil like him under the best conditions, and it's a whole lot
less like one when he gets behind you doing the same thing. I didn't
know whether he had swung to the north or south, so I tossed up a coin
and cried heads for north--and it was tails. I cut loose at a lope and