poor light for his ill luck; and then found himself in
possession of a tall, uneasy brown that Dick Grimes had
broken and sometimes rode. Buddy would have turned him loose
and caught another, but the horses had sensed the suppressed
excitement of the men and were circling and snorting in the
half light of dawn; so Buddy led out the brown, pulled the
saddle from the sweaty horse that had twice made the trip up
the creek, and heaved it hastily on the brown's back. Dick
Grimes called to him, to know if he wanted any help, and
Buddy yelled, "No!"

"Here they come--damn 'em--turn the bunch loose and ride!" called
Bob Birnie as a shrill, yelling war-whoop, like the yapping of
many coyotes, sounded from the cottonwoods that bordered the
creek. "Yuh all right, Buddy?"

"Yeah--I'm a-comin'," shrilled Buddy, hastily looping the
latigo. Just then the sharp staccato of rifle-shots mingled
with the whooping of the Indians. Buddy was reaching for the
saddle horn when the brown horse ducked and jerked loose.
Before Buddy realized what was happening the brown horse, the
herd and all the riders were pounding away down the valley,
the men firing back at the cottonwoods.

In the dust and clamor of their departure Buddy stood
perfectly still for a minute, trying to grasp the full
significance of his calamity. Step-and-a-Half had packed
hastily and departed ahead of them all. His father and the
cowboys were watching the cottonwood grove many rods to
Buddy's right and well in the background, and they would not