The Saddle Boys in the Grand Canyon | Page 3

hard proposition, here on the open,"
Frank observed.
"Well, what can we do then?" his chum asked.
"Perhaps put it in the hands of the best trailer in Arizona," and with a
laugh Frank pointed off to the left.
The Kentucky boy turned his head in surprise, and then exclaimed:
"Old Hank Coombs, on his pony, as sure as anything! You knew he
was coming along all the while, and just kept mum. But I'm sure glad to
see the old cowman right now. And it may turn out to be a day of
reckoning for that cunning Sallie, and her half grown cubs."
The two lads waved their range hats, and sent out a salute that was
readily answered by the advancing cowman. Hank Coombs was indeed
a veteran in the cattle line, having been one of the very first to throw a
rope, and "mill" stampeding steers in Texas, and farther to the west.
He was an angular old fellow, grim looking in his greasy leather
"chaps;" but with a twinkle in his eyes that told of the spirit of fun that
had never been quenched by the passage of time.

"Howdy, boys," he called out, as he drew rein alongside the two lads.
"What's this here yer lookin' at? Another dead calf? No, I swan if it
ain't a yearling as has been pulled down now. Things seem t' be gittin' t'
a warm pass when sech doin' air allowed. Huh! an' it looks like Sallie's
work, too! That sly ole critter is goin' t' git t' the end of her rope some
fine day."
"Why not to-day, Hank?" demanded Frank, briskly.
The veteran grinned, as though he had half anticipated having such a
question asked.
"So, that's the way the wind blows, hey?" he remarked, slowly; and
then he nodded his small head approvingly. "Jest as you say, Frank,
thar's no time like the present t' do things. The hull pack hes been here,
I see, an' no matter how cunning old Sallie allers shows herself, a
chain's only as strong as th' weakest link. One of her cubs will sure
leave tracks we kin foller. All right, boys count on me t' back ye up. I'll
go wharever ye say, Frank."
"We'll follow the trail, if there is one," said Frank, instantly; "but the
chances are that's where we'll bring up," and he pointed with his quirt
in the direction of the rocky uplift that stood like a landmark in the
midst of the great level sea of purple sage brush, marking the plain.
After one good look the cowman nodded his head again in the
affirmative.
"Reckon as how y'r' right, Frank," he remarked; "but we'll see how the
trail heads."
Throwing himself from his saddle he bent down over the remains of the
yearling that had been so unfortunate as to become lame, and thus,
lagging far behind the rest of the herd, fallen a victim to the wolf pack.
"Easy as fallin' off a log," announced old Hank, immediately. "Jest as I
was sayin', thar's nearly allers one clumsy cub as don't hev half sense;
an' I kin foller this trail on horseback, 'pears to me."

He ran it out a little way; then, once more mounting, went on ahead,
with his keen eyes fastened on the ground.
Bob watched his actions with the greatest of interest. He knew Old
Hank was discovering a dozen signs that would be utterly invisible to
one who had not had many years of practice in tracking both wild
animals and human beings.
Now and then the trailer would draw in his horse, as though desirous of
looking more carefully at the ground. Twice he even dropped off and
bent low, to make positive his belief.
"I reckon you were right, Frank," remarked Bob, after half an hour of
this sort of travel "because, you see, even if the trail did lead away from
the rocks at first, it's heading that way now on a straight line."
"Thet was only the cuteness of the ole wolf," said Hank. "She's up t' all
the dodges goin'. But that comes a day of reckonin' for all her kind; an'
her's orter be showin' up right soon."
When another half hour passed the three riders had reached the border
of the strange pile of rocks. And as Frank looked up at the rough heap,
with its many crevices and angles, he considered that it certainly must
offer an ideal den to any wild beast wishing to hide through the
daytime, and prowl forth when darkness and night lay upon the land.
"Here's whar the trail ends at the rocks," said Hank, as he dismounted
and threw the bridle over the head of his horse, cowboy fashion,
knowing that under ordinary conditions