“I guess you were right when you said that Shorty had it in for me,” he remarked, turning to Walt Phelps. “How do you mean?” “Just this: Shorty was behind me on that trail. Suddenly his pony began to bolt. It was to avoid being forced from the narrow path that I spurred up my cayuse so as to keep ahead of him.” “What do you think he meant to do?” The question came from Ralph. “It’s my opinion that he deliberately tried to get between me and the wall of the cliff and force me off the trail.” “Gracious! You might have been killed.” “Not much doubt that I’d have been badly injured, anyway. But Shorty miscalculated, and where I left the trail was further on and not so far to fall.” “Why don’t you tell Captain Atkinson?” “Why, I have nothing to prove that Shorty’s pony really didn’t get beyond his control.” “Then you suspect that it was not really running away, but that he made it appear that he was unable to manage it?” “That’s it exactly. However, let’s join the men. If I get a chance I want to examine Shorty’s horse.” “What’s the idea in that?” asked Walt. “You’ll see what my plan is if I get an opportunity to put it into execution,” was the reply. The three boys, arm in arm, sauntered up to the group of Rangers. Some of them were now remounted, and two men had charge of the boys’ ponies, including Jack’s, which had joined its comrades. Shorty was still watering his animal, but when he saw the boys he came up to Jack with an outstretched hand, and every appearance of great affability. “Say, Pard’ner,” he exclaimed, as if genuinely remorseful, “I hope you ain’t mad with me on ’count of that accident.” “No; I never harbor a grudge,” responded Jack, with emphasis. “That critter of mine jes’ nat’ly ran away from me,” pursued Shorty, in the same tone. “And so that’s the reason you had to spur him till he bled,” flashed Jack, in a low tone. The boy had seized his opportunity to look over Shorty’s pony and saw at once that it had been cruelly rowelled. Shorty went pale under his tan. His mouth twitched nervously. “Why—why, you ain’t goin’ for to say I done it a–purpose?” he demanded. “I’m not saying anything about it,” responded Jack; “all that I know is this, that I shall take care how I ride in front of you again.” So saying the boy turned on his heel and walked toward his pony, followed by Walt and Ralph, who had witnessed the whole scene. Shorty gazed after them. His alarm had gone from his countenance now, and he bore an expression of malignant rage. “Dern young tenderfoot cubs,” he growled to himself, relieving his feelings by giving his pony a kick in the stomach, “blamed interferin’ Mammy boys! I’ll l’arn ‘em a lesson yet. I’ll jes’ bet I will, and it’ll be a hot one, too. One they won’t forget in a hurry.”