Aunt Jane's side.

"Am I goin' to get a lickin'?" he queried.

Aunt Jane shook her head, and patted his hand. Entrenched beside Aunt
Jane, Jimmy watched his father and Uncle Frank as they talked by the big
corral. Uncle Frank was gesturing toward the mountains. Cheyenne was
arguing quietly.

"It ain't just the runnin' off of Sneed's hosses," said Uncle Frank.
"That's bad enough. But I told Jimmy to keep away from Sneed's."

"So did I," declared Cheyenne. "And seein' as I'm his dad, it's up to me
to lick him if he's goin' to get licked."

"Sneed is like to ride down some night and set fire to the barns,"
asserted Uncle Frank.

"Sneed don't know yet who run off his stock. And he can't say that I
did, and prove it. Now, Frank, you just hold your hosses. I'll ride over
to camp and get my outfit together and come over here. Then we'll throw
Steve Brown's hosses into your pasture, and I'll see that Sneed's stock
is out of here, pronto."

"That's all right. But Sneed will trail his stock down here."

"But he won't find 'em here. And he'll never know they was in your
corral."

Uncle Frank shook his head doubtfully. He was a pessimist and always