Jimmy blazed away again and ran to see where his bullets had hit the stump. "She's a pretty fair gun," he said as he handed it back. "But I reckon I'll have to stick to my ole twenty-two rifle. She's gettin' wore out, but I can hit things with her, yet. I git rabbits." "Now, mebby you got time to tell us something about Aunt Jane and Uncle Frank and Dorry," suggested Cheyenne. "Why, they're all right," said the boy. "Why didn't you stop by to our place instead of bushin' way up here?" Cheyenne hesitated. "I reckon I'll be comin' over," he said finally. Bartley put the Luger away. The boy turned to his father. Cheyenne's face expressed happiness, yet Bartley was puzzled. The boy was not what could be termed indifferent in any sense, yet he had taken his father's presence casually, showing no special interest in their meeting. And why had Cheyenne never mentioned the boy? Bartley surmised that there was some good reason for Cheyenne's silence on that subject--and because it was obvious that there was a good reason, Bartley accepted the youngster's presence in a matter-of-fact manner, as though he had known all along that Cheyenne had a son. In fact, Cheyenne had not stopped to think about it at all. If he had, he would have reasoned that Bartley had heard about it. Almost every one in Arizona knew that Cheyenne had been married and had separated from his wife. "That would be a pretty good gun to git hoss-thieves with," asserted the boy, still thinking of the Luger. "What do you know about hoss-thieves?" queried Cheyenne. "You think I didn't see you was ridin' different hosses!" said Jimmy. "Mebby you think I don't know where Josh and Filaree are." "You quit joshin' your dad," said Cheyenne. "I ain't joshin' _nobody_. Ole 'Clubfoot' Sneed, over by the re'savation's got Josh and Filaree. I seen 'em in his corral, yesterday. I was up there, huntin'." "Did you talk to him?" queried Cheyenne. "Nope. He just come out of his cabin an' told me to fan it. I wasn't doin' nothin'. He said it was against the law to be huntin' up there. Mebby he don't hunt when he feels like it!" "Did you tell Uncle Frank?" "Yep. Wish I hadn't. He says for me to stay away from the high country--and not to ride by Sneed's place any more." Cheyenne turned to Bartley. "I done made one guess right," he said. "You goin' to kill Sneed?" queried young Jim enthusiastically. "Nobody's goin' to get killed. But I aim to git my hosses." Cheyenne turned to Jimmy. "You ride over and tell Uncle Frank and Aunt Jane that me and Mr. Bartley'll be over after we eat." "Will you sing that 'Git Along' song for me, dad?" "You bet!" "But why don't you come over and eat to our place? You always stop by, every time you ride down this way," said Jimmy. "You ride right along, like I told you, or you'll be late for your supper."