As he turned a flash of movement below caught his eye. He stepped closer to the canyon rim and looked down on a little meadow. At first he saw nothing but a little beaver lake, a grove of aspens, and a stand of spruce. Then a black horse flashed out of the timber running madly. Close on his heels came a pinto filly. They were heading straight at a barrier of logs. They reached the barrier and lifted like birds, sailing over it easily. Their manes and tails flowed out as they pounded along. “Look!” Tex called hoarsely as he pointed downward. The major slid from his horse and stood beside Tex. The flying horses had vanished into the aspen grove and Tex grunted disgustedly. In a moment they appeared again and took the log barrier in a mad leap. Both men stood in silence watching the big black stallion as he cleared the barrier and raced away. The horses vanished but appeared again as they charged around the little circle below. Then they vanished and did not appear again. For a long minute the two men faced each other. It was the major who spoke. “Tex,” he said gruffly, “I’m a stubborn fool.” He held out his hand. “Let me see that letter you got from the state prison.” Tex dug out the letter and handed it to him. The major read it quickly. When he had finished he folded it carefully and handed it back to Tex. Relief and eagerness showed on his face, as he turned toward his horse. “We’ll ride for the ranch. If I hit the trail hard enough I can catch the midnight train at Painted Rocks.” Tex grinned. He said nothing, but he was in his saddle before the major reached his horse. 15. Home to Stay The old yellowbelly whistler was uneasy. He scented the coming of a cold snap, a heavy snow perhaps. The aspens were flaming yellow, the oak brush purple and red, its rounded clumps looking like fine upholstery laid on an immense piece of furniture. The calico chips darted around in frantic haste as they gathered seeds to add to their bulging granaries. Even the rockchips were more active than usual. They did not spend so much time hugging their fat bellies and mooning into the distance. The dog colony was as noisy and busy as usual but there was a difference in their chatter. This was a time of uncertainty. Indian summer had to end. It had held the high country in its drowsy spell for many days. Now the air had a different feel. Down by the castle rocks there was a newly made pile of rocks. This disturbance of the scenery had upset the small folk of the meadow for a while but now they were used to it. The calico chips used it as a hiding place and even the whistlers had explored it carefully.