Wasn't much hungry nohow!"
Chapter V
At the foot of Little Thumb Butte a lengthening semicircle of fire
flared through the night. John Wesley Pringle swung far out on the
plain to circle round it.
"This takes time," he muttered to himself, "but at least I know where
not to go. That old rip-snorter sure put a spoke in my wheel! Looks
like Foy might see them lights and drift out away from this. But he
won't, I guess--they said his hidey-hole was right on top, and the
shoulder of the hill will hide the fires from him. Probably asleep,
anyhow, thinkin' he's safe. I slep' three hours this morning at the
Major's; but Foy he didn't sleep any. Even if he did leave, they'd
track him up in the morning and get him--and he knows it. Somebody's
goin' to be awfully annoyed when he misses this horse."
He could see the riders, dim-flitting as they passed between him and
the flames. Once he stopped to listen; he heard the remaining half
of the man-hunt leaving the ranch. They were riding hard. Thereafter
Pringle had no mercy on his horse. Ride as he might, those who
followed had the inner circle; when he rounded the fires and struck
the hill his start was perilously slight. While the footing was soft
he urged the wearied horse up the slope; at the first rocky space he
abandoned the poor beast lest the floundering of shod hoofs should
betray him.
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