for which he
had longed. He was riding a swift horse straight toward the mystic
mountains of the West, leaving behind him the miserable wars of the
sheep herders and the cattlemen. Every leap of his sturdy pony carried
him deeper into the storied land and farther from the tumult and shame
of the night at Running Bear.

He was not one to morbidly analyze, not even to feel remorse. He put the
past behind him easily. Before him small grasshoppers arose in clapping,
buzzing clouds. Prairie dogs squeaked and frisked and dived needlessly
into their dens. Hawks sailed like kites in the glorious, golden, hazy
air, and on the firm sod the feet of his pony steadily drummed. Once a
band of antelope crossed a swale, running in silence, jerkily, like a
train of some singular automatons, moved by sudden, uneven impulses of
power. The deep-worn buffalo trails seemed so fresh the boy's heart
quickened with the thought that he might by chance come suddenly upon a
stray bunch of them feeding in some deep swale.

He had passed beyond fences, and his course was still substantially
westward. His eyes constantly searched the misty purple-blue horizon for
a first glimpse of the mountains, though he knew he could not possibly
come in sight of them so soon. He rode steadily till the sun was
overhead, when he stopped to let the pony rest and feed. He had a scanty
lunch in his pocket, which he ate without water. Saddling up an hour or
two later he continued his steady onward "shack" toward the West.

Once or twice he passed in sight of cattle ranches, but he rode on
without stopping, though he was hungry and weary. Once he met a couple
of cowboys who reined out and rode by, one on either side of him, to see
what brands were on his horse. He was sufficiently waywise to know what
this meant. The riders remained studiously polite in their inquiries:

"Where ye from, stranger?"

"Upper Cannon Ball."

"Eh--hah. How's the feed there this year?"

"Pretty good."

"Where ye aimin' at now, if it's a fair question?"

"Bob Reynolds' ranch."

"He's over on the head water of the South Fork, ain't he?"

"Yes."

"Well, it's a good piece yet. So long," they said in change of manner.

"So long."

They rode away, still filled with curiosity concerning the boy whose
horse plainly showed hard riding. "He shore wants to git there," said
one to the other.

Late in the afternoon the youth pulled in his horse and studied with the
closest care a big c