The sun was getting well up in the sky when skirting along the foothills and going thru a thick bunch of cedars, the tired horse noticed dead cedars piled up in a way that made a fence. Any other time he'd whirled at the sight and went some other way, but his vision wasn't very clear no more, nor was his brain working very good. He'd went on his nerves and kept on long after his muscles had hollered "quit," and he'd got to the point where he was running because something away back in his mind kept a telling him that he should, really not knowing why. He was past caring where he went, and even if the rider behind had stopped and quit, he'd kept on running just the same and till he'd dropped.
He followed the cedar fence hardly realizing it was there. Then from the other side of him appeared another fence, it gradually pinched in on him as he went, till finally both fences led up to a gate and into a corral hid in the thick trees. There he stopped, realizing somehow that he couldn't go no further, and legs wide apart, breathing hard, sweat a dripping from every part of him, he stood still.
The halfbreed closed the pole gate, and turned looking at the horse.
"Now, you ornery mouse colored hunk of meanness, I guess I got you."
But Smoky, eyes half closed and not seeing, head near touching the ground, and the rest of him trying hard to stay up, never seemed to hear.
Many months had passed and many things happened since Smoky had been hazed away from his home range on the Rocking R. There'd been long nights of traveling when many miles was covered and very little feed was got on the way. Then long, weary miles of travel had accumulated till near a thousand of 'em separated him from the country where he'd been born and raised.
Many strange looking hills and flats he'd crossed as he was kept on the go with Pecos and the rest of the bunch, and when he'd come to the desert it'd been a great relief,—the deep snow had gradually been left behind by then and the bare sagebrush flats had took the place of the snow covered prairie. Many bunches of wild ponies had been seen on the way and once in a while a little bunch of cattle was passed by. The country had kept a changing, from rolling prairie it went to low hills, low hills to mountains, and on the other side more low hills and then sagebrush, the sagebrush had stayed in the landscape from then on and only added some yuccas as the southern country was reached, then spanish dagger, barrel cactus, and cat-claw.
Finally a wide river in a deep canyon of many colors had been reached and swimmed acrost. A few days more travel, and then it seemed like Smoky and the bunch had got there,—anyway there'd been no more traveling. The next day, the half breed had corralled all the ponies, and with a running iron, blotched the Rocking R
