All day long horse and rider had been toiling up the slope from the east, following the little-used trail. Shading his eyes, the cowboy tried to follow the trail. It turned west and north, into a country that was well timbered and appeared to be rich in grazing land--a country new to both horse and rider.
For the twentieth time in the last three days the cowboy slipped his hand into an inner pocket and drew forth an envelope. He unfolded the letter it contained and scanned it with puzzled eyes. It was addressed to Slim Evans, Flying Arrow Ranch, Sunfield, Wyo.
“Dear Slim,” the letter began, “I am in need of your help. Things are going badly in the Creeping Shadows country over beyond the Cajons and I am counting on you to straighten out the trouble. The greatest secrecy is necessary so let no one except your father know of this message. Meet me on the 22nd at the foot of the Sky High trail on the other side of the Cajons. Will explain everything then.”
The message was signed by Bill Needham, secretary of the Mountain States Cattlemen’s Association.
Slim Evans folded the letter and slipped it back into the envelope, which was now badly creased.
It had been a summons he could not disregard and the mysterious tone of the letter had aroused his curiosity. Once or twice in the last two years he had been able to help Bill Needham and the Mountain States Association in running down rustlers. Bill was an old friend of the Evans family and Slim had hastened to roll his duffel and start for the Sky High trail over the Cajons.
It was the best part of another day’s ride to the foot of the trail, but he could slacken the fast pace he and Lightning had maintained for he was well within the time limit.
Fine lines puckered Slim’s brow as he stared down from the summit of the trail toward the Creeping Shadows country. Although less than a hundred and fifty miles from the Flying Arrow, where he had been reared, it was new country to him, right against the southern boundary of Montana with the Bad Lands touching it on the east.
Slim wondered if Needham was calling him in on a case of cattle rustling. But that seemed hardly possible, for the association had a small staff of men who devoted all of their time and energy to running down cattle thieves. Slim’s only work along that line had been several small investigations near the home ranch where he had been able to save the association the expense of sending out one of its staff detectives.
Bill Needham was the only man with the answer and Slim reluctantly left the cool shadow of the rock. Lightning responded to his whistle and the cowboy swung into the saddle.