Many a long mile wound back behind
him, and still the cattle pony, with hanging head, stuck to its task.
Now he was drawing out on a highland, and below him stretched the
light yellow-green of the willows of the bottom land. He halted his
pony and swung a leg over the horn of his saddle. Then he rolled a
cigarette, and while he inhaled it in long puffs he scanned the trees
narrowly. Miles across, and stretching east and west farther than his
eye could reach, extended the willows. Somewhere in that wilderness
was the gang of Jim Silent. An army corps might have been easily
concealed there.
If he was not utterly discouraged in the beginning of his search, it
was merely because the rangers of the hills and plains are taught
patience almost as soon as they learn to ride a horse. He surveyed the
yellow-green forest calmly. In the west the low hanging sun turned
crimson and bulged at the sides into a clumsy elipse. He started down
the slope at the same dog-trot which the pony had kept up all day.
Just before he reached the skirts of the trees he brought his horse to
a sudden halt and threw back his head. It seemed to him that he heard
a faint whistling.
He could not be sure.
Pages:
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127