Scott Burton on the Range

by Edward G. Cheyney

For a mile or so the trail promised well. It followed a contour line around the face of the hill and seemed to be leading just where Scott wanted to go. The country was open, with only a scattering stand of bull pine. The trail which followed a little natural bench had required very little building, but it was distinct and offered good traveling. Scott was making good time and having visions of counting some of the sheep in spite of the fire when Jed came to a sudden stop on the edge of a steep cañon.

The trail dived into it and was quickly lost in a dense growth of Engelmann’s spruce. Some of the spruces poked so high up out of the cañon that he could not see the other side. The descent was so steep that he was afraid to try Jed on it till he found out where it came out. So he dismounted and scrambled down on foot. The trail was very narrow and the needles on the protruding spruce boughs stuck through his clothes like thorns. He had misgivings of ever being able to get Jed through there.

The cañon, instead of being a mere cut in the mountain side as he had expected, was flat bottomed and broad. The trail continued to thread its way through the spruce thicket, distinct but crooked. It seemed more like a foot trail than a horse trail, and Scott looked in vain for any hoof prints. He considered going across on foot to the north slope—it could not be much over a mile now—to where he could see the valley beyond. He would lose a great deal of time now if he attempted to ride back to the fork and up over the mountain peak. He hurried on, pricking his face and hands painfully on the spruce needles.

Suddenly he was confronted by a solid wall of spruce and a small sign reading “Th 7—’14.” Scott gave an exclamation of disgust and started back over the trail at a run regardless of the spruce boughs which spurred him mercilessly at every jump. He knew what it was now. Some experimental plots for the study of the growth of spruce had been laid out there in the cañon and the trail was only a path leading to them. He stubbed his toe in his haste and dived head first into one of the prickly spruces.

“Heth may know all about sheep,” he growled as he panted up the steep side of the cañon, “but he knows mighty little about the trails.” And if he had had Heth right there then, he would probably have punched his head, for Jed was gone.

At first Scott thought that the horse had merely wandered a few steps in search of grass, but he could see quite a distance through the open woods and there was no sign of him. Certainly he would not have gone into that spruce thicket. He was involuntarily rubbing his hands and thighs as he looked about him and he could not imagine anything going into that hornet’s nest if it did not have to.

Then he suddenly remembered the strange horseman who had tried to steal Jed a few days before. He hurriedly examined the place where he had left the horse and found holes plowed in the ground by plunging hoofs. Something had evidently startled him very suddenly for there was no sign that he had moved till he made the sudden lunge.

Scott tried to reason it out. If it was the horseman he must have come down the trail and if he had there would be tracks. He examined the back trail for some distance without finding any trace of another track of either horse or man. Adopting the tactics of an old hound that has lost the scent, he made a large circle, examining the ground carefully at every step, but he did not find anything till he came across Jed’s tracks headed straight up the slope and still gouging the ground desperately at every jump. He completed his circle without finding any sign of anything having approached the horse.

Scott was badly puzzled but there was no time to figure it out now. He had already lost an hour and a half. The next thing was to find the horse. He took the running trail up the slope and followed it. At least it was going in the direction which he wanted to take. But even this advantage was only temporary for the tracks soon began to turn back toward camp. Scott would have given up the chase then and gone about his business on foot had he not noticed that the tracks seemed to indicate a more moderate pace. He was about ready to give it up when he saw something moving in a little clearing ahead and sighted Jed.

The horse was evidently much excited. His neck was arched and his head was high. He would stand for a few seconds intently watching Scott’s approach. Then, with head held to one side to avoid the long, dragging reins he would trot nervously around a little circle before coming to gaze once more. Scott approached him cautiously but could not get his hand on him. Every time he reached for the bridle Jed would trot another little circle. A sudden move to grab him sent him galloping to the other side of the opening.