Produced by sp1nd, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive) THE LONG DIM TRAIL By FORRESTINE C. HOOKER A. L. BURT COMPANY Publishers New York Published by arrangement with Alfred A. Knopf COPYRIGHT, 1920, BY FORRESTINE COOPER HOOKER PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA LOVINGLY DEDICATED TO MY FATHER, BRIGADIER-GENERAL CHARLES L. COOPER, U. S. A. MY BROTHER, MAJOR HARRY L. COOPER, U. S. A. AND MY UNCLE, CAPTAIN LOUIS R. CHESTER. U. S. N. OFFICERS AND GENTLEMEN. WITHOUT FEAR AND WITHOUT REPROACH F. C. H. PART ONE CHAPTER ONE "Everything all right, Limber?" asked Allan Traynor, boss of the Diamond H ranch, as a cowboy with jingling spurs reined his pony before the closed gates of the corral. Doctor Powell, standing beside Traynor, scrutinized the rider, whose broad-brimmed Stetson, caught by the wind, flapped from his face, exposing the sun-brown skin, firm chin and grey eyes. It needed no student of psychology to decide that Limber was not a man who would flinch when facing a six-shooter held by a rustler. The cowboy nodded answer to Traynor's query. Limber's eyes scanned the herd, then, satisfied, he leaned across the neck of his pinto pony, and said, "Paddy Lafferty wants to sell out." "Who told you?" Traynor spoke with undisguised surprise. "Dillon. Paddy tol' him he was gettin' too old, that the rheumatiz is botherin' again, an' he's goin' to quit because he won't trust no one to run his herd when he can't get 'round to it hisself." "Did Paddy say how much he wanted?" "Nope," was the laconic reply. "I'll find out. It's a mighty good bunch of stuff. Lots of three-year steers, an' thar ain't many three-year-olds left in these parts, now." "It's worth looking up," commented Traynor. "I'm glad you spoke of it. How soon will you be ready to hit the trail?" "'Bout ten minutes." "Keep the boys out of mischief this trip, if you can." There was a twinkle in Traynor's eyes that was reflected in the grey ones of the cowboy, who said soberly, "I'll do my best. But when they get to mixin' in things they're slipperier than a bunch of quicksilver. You think you got hold of it and you find you ain't." Limber turned his pony toward the corrals, twisting in his saddle as Traynor called after him, "Tell some one to saddle my pony and Doctor Powell's. We'll ride out with you." As the cowboy disappeared, Traynor said, "It will give you a faint idea of the work. You'll find it mighty different from the cowpuncher's life of moving pictures."