The chipmunk never wondered what this running was all about, he just chirped and ducked out of sight, but it wasn't long when he stuck his head out again and gradually showed all of himself. He stood up on a rock close to his hole, and looking around from there, he could see two objects out towards the flat, moving fast, and seeming like one trying to catch up with the other. He watched 'em, till a raise finally took 'em out of sight, then he watched some more and in other directions and seeing nothing that'd need watching, he went to visiting again and to gathering more nuts. Out on the flat, and on the other side of the raise the two objects went on. How glad that one object in the lead would of been to've changed places with the chipmunk and like him been able to crawl down a hole and hide for a spell. For hours and hours thru the night he'd been trailed, his hoofs had sunk deep into the mud every step he'd took, but acrost foothills and dobe flats he'd went on, always the human close behind. Twice that human'd disappeared and he'd took hope, but soon he'd show up again, and mounted on a fresh horse would chase him some more. A rope had settled around his neck once,--he'd fought till it broke, and run on a dragging it. [Illustration: A rope had settled around his neck once, he'd fought till it broke,--and run on a dragging it.] He was getting tired, mighty tired, and beginning to feel with each step he took that the country was in cahoots with the man and trying to hold him back. His feet went ankle deep in the soft, rain-soaked ground, and pulling out and placing 'em ahead steady, on and on, was getting to be more and more of an effort. Once again the man disappeared, only to show up mounted on another fresh horse, the man's relay string had been well placed and as the horse he'd been chasing was getting tired and easier right along to turn the way he wanted him, he could near see how the end of the chase was going to be. 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.