that the corral bars were down and that the corral was empty. Quickly he
resumed his place at the table and threw again, meanwhile talking
steadily. He had not made his point nor had he thrown a seven. Sweat
prickled on his forehead. Little Jim had seen his father's horses and
knew that the men were in the cabin. With the rashness of boyhood he had
sneaked up to the corral, dropped the bars, and had then flung pine
cones at the horses, starting them to milling and finally to a dash
through the gateway and out into the meadow.

Cheyenne brushed his arm across his face. "Come on you, Filaree!" he
chanted.

Somebody would be mightily surprised when the ownership of Filaree and
Joshua was finally decided. Unwittingly, Little Jim had placed his
father in a still more precarious position. Sneed and his men, finding
the corral empty, would naturally conclude that Cheyenne had kept them
busy while some friend had run off the horses. Cheyenne knew the risks
he ran; but, above all, he wanted to prolong the game until Little Jim
got safely beyond reach of Sneed's men. As for himself--

Again Cheyenne threw, but he did not make his point, nor throw a seven.
He threw several times; and still he did not make his point. Finally he
made his point. Smiling, he gathered up his money and tucked it in his
pocket.

"I reckon that settles it," he said cheerfully.

Sneed and Lawson exchanged glances. Cheyenne, rolling a cigarette, drew
a chair toward them and sat down. He seemed at home, and altogether
friendly. One of the men picked up a deck of cards and suggested a game.