He ain't much of a hand with stock."

"Can't I go with you?"

"Not this trip, son. But I'll tell you somethin'. Mr. Bartley, down
there, said to me this mornin' that he was goin' to buy you a brand-new
twenty-two rifle, one of these days: mebby after we locate the hosses.
You better have a talk with him about it."

This _was_ a temptation to ride back: yet Jimmy had set his heart on
going with his father. And his father had said that he was simply going
to ride up to Sneed's place and have a talk with him. Jimmy wanted to
hear that talk. He knew that his father meant business when he had told
him to go back.

"All right for you!" said Jimmy finally. And he reined his pony round
and rode back down the trail sullenly, his black hat pulled over his
eyes, and his small back very straight and stiff.

Cheyenne watched him until the brush of the lower levels intervened.
Then Cheyenne began the ascent, his eye alert, his mind upon the task
ahead. When Little Jim realized that his father was so far into the
timber that the trail below was shut from view, he reined his pony round
again and began to climb the grade, slowly, this time, for fear that he
might overtake his father too soon.

Riding the soundless upland trail that meandered among the spruce and
pine, skirting the edges of the mountain meadows and keeping within the
timber, Cheyenne finally reached the main ridge of the range.
Occasionally he dismounted and examined the tracks of horses.