handle a man like Clubfoot Sneed: one is to kill him, and the other is
to leave him alone. And it's got to be one or the other when you live as
close to the hills as we do. I aim to leave him alone, unless he tries
to ride me."

"Which means that you kind of think I ought to let the hosses go, for
fear of gettin' you in bad."

Uncle Frank shook his head, but said nothing. Bartley smoked a cigar and
listened to the conversation that followed. Called upon by Uncle Frank
for his opinion, Bartley hesitated, and then said that, if the horses
were his, he would be tempted to go and get them, regardless of
consequences. Bartley's stock went up, with Little Jim, right there.

Cheyenne turned to Uncle Frank. "I'm ridin' over to Clubfoot's wikiup
to-morrow mornin'. I'll git my hosses, or git him. And I'm ridin'
alone."

Little Jim, meanwhile, had been raking his mind for an idea as to how he
might attract attention. He disappeared. Presently he appeared in front
of the veranda with the end of a long rope in his fist. He blinked and
grinned.

"What's on the other end of that rope?" queried Uncle Frank, immediately
suspicious.

"Nothin' but High-Tail."

"I thought I told you not to rope that calf," said Uncle Frank, rising.