Genre - Western. You are on the page - 25
to the opening came Baldy and he peered in, though he remained at a distance of five or six paces. Ronicky Doone poised his gun, delayed the shot, and then frowned in wonder. Baldy had turned and was sauntering slowly back toward his companions."Nothing there," he said to the chief, as he approached. Ronicky hardly believed his ears, but a moment of thought explained the mystery. It was pitch dark behind that screening wall, and the darkness was rendered doubly thick by Baldy's
ure of speed like the wind, goaded by fear and knowing the limitations of his rider, was a different matter. The swift flight took her breath away, and unnerved her. She tried to hold on to the saddle with her shaking hands, for the bridle was already flying loose to the breeze, but her hold seemed so slight that each moment she expected to find herself lying huddled on the plain with the pony far in the distance.Her lips grew white and cold; her breath came short and painfully; her eyes were
t make much of a job at it. The indisputable facts were that Mac was an outlaw and a horse thief. Very likely a price was already on his head.The redheaded boy rolled another cigarette despondently. "Sho! I've cooked my goose. She'll not look at me--even if they don't send me to the pen." In a moment he added huskily, staring into the deepening darkness: "And she's the best ever. Her name's Myra Anderson." Abruptly Mac got up and disappeared in the night, muttering something
the saloon he heard a snicker from behind him. He, thinking it was one of his late tormentors, paid no attention to it. Then a cynical, biting laugh stung him. He wheeled, to see Shorty leaning against a tree, a sneering leer on his flushed face. Shorty's right hand was suspended above his holster, hooked to his belt by the thumb-a favorite position of his when expecting trouble."One of yore reg'lar habits?" he drawled. Jimmy began to dust himself in silence, but his lips were
ig chief," went on Jones, "me go far north--Land of LittleSticks--Naza! Naza! rope musk-ox; rope White Manitou of GreatSlave Naza! Naza!""Naza!" replied the Navajo, pointing to the North Star; "no--no." "Yes me big paleface--me come long way toward setting sun--gocross Big Water--go Buckskin--Siwash--chase cougar." The cougar, or mountain lion, is a Navajo god and the Navajoshold him in as much fear and reverence as do the Great SlaveIndians the
start, he noted it and halted his pony after reaching the level to look about him.There was no sign of any cattle. But he reflected that perhaps a new range had been opened. Thirteen years is a long time, and many changes could have come during his absence. He was about to urge his pony on again, when some impulse moved him to turn in the saddle and glance at the hill he had just vacated. At about the spot where he had sat--perhaps two hundred yards distant--he saw a man on a horse, sitting