Cheyenne laughed and rose, following Uncle Frank to the corral. When they arrived, High-Tail had made his third round of the corral, with Jimmy still attached to the rope. Cheyenne managed to stop the calf and throw off the noose.
Little Jim rose and gazed wildly around. He was one color, from head to foot--and it was a decidedly local color. His jeans were torn and his cotton shirt was in rags, but his grit was unsifted.
"D-didn't I hang to him, dad?" he inquired enthusiastically.
"You sure did!" said Cheyenne.
With a pail of hot water, soap, and fresh raiment, Aunt Jane undertook to make Little Jim's return to the heart of the family as agreeable as possible to all concerned.
"Isn't he hurt?" queried Bartley.
"Not if he doesn't know it," stated Cheyenne.