Cheyenne hesitated and then stepped forward. "I'll be dinged if it ain't Jimmy! What you doin' up here in the brush, anyhow?"
The boy, who rode a well-mannered gray pony, kicked one foot out of the stirrup and hooked his small leg over the horn. He nodded to Cheyenne, but his interest was centered on Bartley and the Luger.
"It's Jimmy--my boy," said Cheyenne. "His Aunt Jane lives over yonder, a piece."
"Why, hello!" exclaimed Bartley, laying the pistol aside. And he stepped up and shook hands with the boy, who grinned.
"How's the folks?" queried Cheyenne.
"All right. That there is a Luger gun, ain't it?"
"Yes," said Bartley. "Would you like to try it?"
The boy scrambled down from the saddle. "Honest?"
"Ain't you goin' to say hello to your dad?" queried Cheyenne.
"Sure! Only I was lookin' at that Luger gun--"