After supper, he called Dan aside and told him about the loss, saying in conclusion, “It was my fault. I shouldn’t have left the herd so long; but if I don’t find the heifer, I’ll pay for it.” “You must keep a sharper eye on them these days,” replied Dan. “The flies drive ’em crazy. But don’t worry, boy, she’ll turn up all right to-morrow.” Dan’s hopeful prophecy, however, did not come true. The animal never did turn up. Fred’s real troubles had begun. CHAPTER XI MOUNTAIN FUN “Aren’t these mountain pictures wonderful?” exclaimed Fred, as Alta galloped up to meet him on Saturday afternoon. “I just marvel at them.” “They certainly are pictures,” she responded, “pictures of many moods, always changing, yet always interesting; I never get tired looking at them.” “Do you know what the mountains always are to me?” he asked. “No; what?” “A challenge to climb. I’d like to scale those craggy old peaks yonder and look out over the world.” “So should I,” she responded; “but I’d enjoy more roaming among those green foothills. They remind me so much of the wooded hills near my old Ohio home.” “That’s where Uncle Dave lives,” said Fred. “Oh, I’m wild to see him and his cosy cabin!” she exclaimed. They galloped away along the road over the old ford. “Let’s take the trail close to the creek,” he suggested; “perhaps we shall scare up some chickens. I hate the old sage brush trail anyway.” “Hate the sagebrush!” exclaimed Alta. “Why that’s one of the most interesting things in this wild West. It makes a fine shaggy blanket for this craggy country; and its purple gray color blends wonderfully with the surroundings.” “That may be true enough,” replied Fred, “judging from an artist’s viewpoint; but it isn’t so pleasant to ride through.” “Oh, look! look!” cried Alta, changing the subject quickly. Fred glanced up to see four antelope bounding across the flat not a hundred yards away--a pair of grown ones with their fawns. Brownie, ever alert to surprises, needed no second touch before she was bounding after them. A mad chase of a few hundred yards and then the unexpected happened. The fawns stopped short, to whirl and gaze on their pursuer, while the old ones, never checking their speed, kept bounding away to safety. Out of rifle reach, they too turned to watch results.