CHAPTER XI
PONY TRACKS
Mrs. Senator Brown did not at all approve of Bartley's determination toaccompany Cheyenne in search of the stolen horses. Late that night, longafter Cheyenne had ceased to sing for the boys in the bunk-house, andwhile Bartley was peacefully slumbering in a comfortable bed, Mrs. Browntook the Senator to task for not having discouraged the young Easternerfrom attempting such a wild-goose chase. The Senator, whose diametermade the task of removing his boots rather difficult, puffed, and tuggedat a tight riding-boot, but said nothing.
"Steve!"
"Yes'm. I 'most got it off. Wild-goose chase? Madam, the wild goose is achild that shuns this element. You mean wild-horse chase."
"That sort of talk may amuse your constituents, but you are talking tome."
Off came the stubborn boot. The Senator puffed, and tugged at the otherboot.
"No, ma'am. You're talking to me. There! Now go ahead and I'll listen."
"Why didn't you discourage Mr. Bartley's idea of making such a journey?'
"I did, Nelly. I told him he was a dam' fool."
Mrs. Senator Brown, who knew her husband's capabilities in dodgingissues when he was cornered,--both at home and abroad,--peered at himover her glasses. "What else did you tell him?"
"Well, your honor," chuckled the Senator, "I also told him he was thekind of dam' fool I liked to shake hands with."
"I knew it! And what else?"
"I challenge the right of the attorney for the plaintiff to introduceany evidence that may--"
"The attorney for the defense may proceed," said Mrs. Brown, smiling.
"Why, shucks, Nelly! When you smile like that--why, I told Bartley hecould have anything on this ranch that would help him get a rope onSears."
"I knew it!"
"Then why did you ask me?"
Mrs. Brown ignored the question. "Very well, Stephen. Mr. Bartley gaveme his sister's address, in case anything happened. She is his onlyliving relative and I'm going to write to her at once and tell her whather brother is up to."
"And most like she'll head right for this ranch."
"Well, suppose she does? If she is anything like her brother she will bewelcome."
"You bet! Just leave that to me!"
"It's a shame!" asserted Mrs. Brown.
"It is! With her good looks and inexperience she'll sure need somebodyto look after her."
"How do you know she is good-looking?"
"I don't. I was just hoping."
"I shall write, just the same."
"I reckon you will. I'm going to bed."
Just as the sun rounded above the mesa next morning, Bartley stepped outto the veranda. He was surprised to find the Senator up and about,inspecting the details of Cheyenne's outfit, for Cheyenne had the horsessaddled and packed. Bartley was still more surprised to find that Mrs.Brown had breakfast ready. Evidently the good Senator and his wife had adecided interest in the welfare of the expedition.
After breakfast the Senator's wife came out to the bunk-house with amysterious parcel which she gave to Bartley. He sniffed at it.
"Cold chicken sandwiches!" he said, smiling broadly.
"And some doughnuts. It will save you boys fussing with a lunch."
Long Lon Pelly was also up and ready to start. The air was still cooland the horses were a bit snuffy. Lon mounted and rode toward the westgate where he waited for Cheyenne and Bartley.
"Now don't forget where you live," said the Senator as Bartley mounted.
With a cheery farewell to their hosts, Cheyenne and Bartley rode away.The first warmth of the sun touched them as they headed into the westernspaces. Long Lon closed the big gate, stepped up on his horse, andjogged along beside them.
Bartley felt as though he had suddenly left the world of reality and wasriding in a sort of morning dream. He could feel the pleasant warmth ofthe sun on his back. He sniffed the thin dust cast up by the horses. Oneither side of him the big mesa spread to the sky-line. Cattle werescattered in the brush, some of them lying down, some of them grazingindolently.
Presently Cheyenne began to sing, and his singing seemed to fit into themood of the morning. He ceased, and nothing but the faint jingle of reinchains and the steady plod of hoofs disturbed the vast silence. Aflicker of smoke drifted back as Cheyenne lighted a cigarette. Long Londrilled on, wrapped in his reflections. Their moving shadows shortened.Occasionally a staring-eyed cow strayed directly in their way and stooduntil Long Lon struck his chaps with his quirt, when the cow, swingingits head, would whirl and bounce off to one side, stiff-legged andridiculous.
Bartley unbuttoned his shirt-collar and pushed back his hat. Far acrossthe mesa a dust devil spun up and writhed away toward the distant hills.As the horses slowed to cross a sandy draw, Bartley turned and glancedback. The ranch buildings--a dot of white in a clump of green--shimmeredvaguely in the morning sunlight.
Thus far, Bartley felt that he had been leaving the ranch and thecheerful companionship of the Senator and his wife. But as Lon Pellyreined up--it was something like two hours since they had started--andpointed to a cross-trail leading south, Bartley's mental attitudechanged instantly. Hitherto he had been leaving a pleasant habitation.Now he was going somewhere. He felt the distinction keenly. Cheyenne'sverse came back to him.
Seems like I don't git anywhere, Git along, cayuse, git along; But we're leavin' here and we're goin' there, Git along, cayuse, git along--
"Just drop a line when you get there," said Long Lon as he reined roundand set off toward the far western sky-line. That was his casualfarewell.
Cheyenne now turned directly toward the south and a range of hills thatmarked the boundary of the mesa level. Occasionally he got off his horseand stooped to examine tracks. Once he made a wide circle, leavingBartley to haze the pack-horse along. Slowly they drew nearer to thehills. During the remainder of that forenoon, Cheyenne said nothing, butrode, slouched forward, his hand on the horn, his gaze on the ground.
They nooned in the foothills. The horses grazed along the edge of a tinystream while Cheyenne and Bartley ate the cold chicken sandwiches. Inhalf an hour they were riding again, skirting the foothills, and, itseemed to Bartley, simply meandering about the country, for now theywere headed west again.
Presently Cheyenne spoke. "I been makin' a plan."
"I didn't say a word," laughed Bartley.
"You didn't need to. I kind of got what you were thinkin'. This here isbig country. When you're ridin' this kind of country with some fella,you can read his mind almost as good as a horse can. You was thinkin' Iwas kind of twisted and didn't know which way to head. Now take thatthere hoss, Joshua. Plenty times I've rode him up to a fork in thetrail, and kep' sayin' to myself, 'We'll take the right-hand fork.' AndJoshua always took the fork I was thinkin' about. You try it with Dobe,sometime."
"I have read of such things," said Bartley.
"Well, I _know_ 'em. What would you say if I was to tell you that Joshuaknowed once they was a fella ridin' behind me, five miles back, and outof sight--and told me, plain?"
"I wouldn't say anything."
"There's where you're wise. I can talk to you about such things. Butwhen I try to talk to the boys like that, they just josh, till I git madand quit. They ain't takin' me serious."
"What is your plan?" queried Bartley.
Cheyenne reined up and dismounted. "Step down, and take a look," hesuggested.
Bartley dismounted. Cheyenne pointed out horse-tracks on the trail alongthe edge of the hills.
"Five hosses," he asserted. "Two of 'em is mine. That leaves three thatare carryin' weight. But we're makin' a mistake for ourselves, trailin'Panhandle direct. He figures mebby I'd do that. I got to outfigure him.I don't want to git blowed out of my saddle by somebody in the brush,just waitin' for me to ride up and git shot. I got the way he's headed,and by to-morrow mornin' I'll know for sure.
"If he'd been goin' to swing back, to fool me, he'd 'a' done it beforehe hit the timber, up yonder
. Once he gits in them hills he'll headstraight south, for they ain't no other trail to ride on them ridges.But mebby he cut along the foothills, first. I got to make sure."
Late that afternoon and close to the edge of the foothills, Cheyennelost the tracks. He spent over an hour finding them again. Bartley coulddiscern nothing definite, even when Cheyenne pointed to a queer, blurredpatch in some loose earth.
"It looks like the imprint of some coarse cloth," said Bartley.
"Gunnysack. They pulled the shoes off my hosses and sacked their feet."
"How about their own horses?"
"They been ridin' hard ground, and the tracks don't show, plain.Panhandle figured, when I seen that only the tracks of three horsesshowed, I'd think he had turned my hosses loose on the big mesa. Hestops, pulls their shoes, sacks their feet, and leads 'em over there.Whoever done it was afoot, and steppin' careful. Hell, I could learnthat yella-bellied hoss-thief how to steal hosses right, if I was in thebusiness."
"Looks like a pretty stiff drill up those hills," remarked Bartley.
"That's why he turned, right here. 'Tain't just the stealin' of myhosses that's interestin' him. He's takin' trouble to run a whizzer onme--get me guessin'. Here is where we quit trailin' him. I got my planworkin' like a hen draggin' fence rails. We ain't goin' to trailPanhandle. We're goin' to ride 'round and meet him."
"Not a bad idea," said Bartley.
"It won't be--if I see him first."
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