CHAPTER XII
THE FIRST DAY
Mile after mile of the rough trail fell behind him, and still the pony
shambled along at a loose trot or a swinging canter; the steep upgrades
it took at a steady jog and where the slopes pitched sharply down, it
wound among the rocks with a faultless sureness of foot.
Certainly the choice of Nash was well made. An Eastern horse of blood
over a level course could have covered the same distance in half the
time, but it would have broken down after ten miles of that hard trail.
Dawn came while they wound over the crest of the range, and with the sun
in their faces they took the downgrade. It was well into the morning
before Nash reached Logan. He forced from his eye the contempt which all
cattlemen feel for sheepherders.
"I s'pose you're here askin' after Bard?" began Logan without the
slightest prelude.
"Bard? Who's he?"
Logan considered the other with a sardonic smile.
"Maybe you been ridin' all night jest for fun?"
"If you start usin' your tongue on me, Logan you'll wear out the snapper
on it. I'm on my way to the A Circle Y.
Pages:
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108