The Young Lion Hunter | Page 7

Wing's action. He did not seem to be able to get to going. He had to break and bolt, then square himself again, and try to buck.
"Stick on, Hal!" I yelled. "If you stay with him now you'll have him beat."
We all yelled, and Ken Ward danced around in great danger of being ridden down by the furious pinto. Like a burr Hal stuck on. There were moments when he wabbled in the saddle, lurched one way and then another, and again bounced high. Once we made sure it was to be a victory for the pinto, but Hal luckily and wonderfully regained his seat. And after that by degrees he appeared to get a surer, easier swing, while Wings grew tired of bucking and more tired of being spurred.
Purcell jumped into the corral and began to throw down the bars of the gate.
"Kid, run him out now!" shouted Jim. "Drive him good an' hard! Make him see who's boss!"
Wings did not want to leave the corral, and Hal, in pulling him, lifted him off his forefeet. Another touch of spurs sent the pinto through the gate. Hal spurred him down the road.
We watched Wings going faster and faster, gradually settling into an even gait, till he was on a dead run.
"Thet pinto has wings, all right," remarked Jim. "Purcell named him some ways near right. An' between us the kid's no slouch in the saddle. He won't have thet little fire-eatin' hoss broke all in a minnit, but he'll be able to ride him. An' thet'll let us hit the trail."

CHAPTER III
- OFF FOR COCONINA
The Navajo Indian whom I had engaged through Purcell did not show up till we were packing next morning. He was a copper-skinned, raven-haired, beady-eyed desert savage. When Ken and Hal had finished breakfast I called them out of the cottage to meet him.
"Here, boys, shake hands with Navvy. Here, Navvy, shake with heap big brother--heap little brother."
"Me savvy," said the Indian, extending his hand to Ken. "How."
Then he turned to Hal. "How."
Hal, following Ken, gingerly shook hands with Navvy. From the look of the lad he was all at sea, and plainly disappointed. No doubt in his mind dwelt images and fancies of picturesque plumed Indians, such as he had evolved from Western tales. Indeed Navvy would have been a disappointment to a most unromantic boy, let alone one as imaginative and full of wild ideas as Hal was. Navvy's slouch hat and torn shirt and blue jeans, some white man's cast-off apparel, were the things that disillusioned Hal. And I saw that he turned once more to his pinto. A new saddle and bridle, spurs, chaps, lasso, canteen, quirt, a rifle and a scabbard, and a slicker--these with spirited Wings were all-satisfying and gave him back his enchantment.
"Where'll the Indian ride?" asked Purcell.
"Why, he can climb on the stallion," I replied.
Purcell's stallion Marc was a magnificent bay, very heavy and big-boned. We had strapped a blanket on him and roped some sacks of oats over that. The other pack-horses were loaded with all they could carry.
"He can climb on, I reckon, but he'll darn soon git off," remarked Purcell, dryly.
"Then he'll have to walk," I rejoined.
"That'll be best," said Purcell, much relieved. "Leslie, have a care of Marc. You'll strike some all-fired bad trails in the Ca–on, where many a hoss has slipped an' gone over. Don't drive Marc or pull him. Just coax him a little."
"All right, Purcell. We'll be careful...Now, boys. We're late starting, and it's thirty miles to the first water."
I led the train, driving our pack horses before me. Navvy came next, leading Marc. Ken was third, and Jim, with a watchful eye on Hal and the pinto, brought up the rear.
The few miles of good road between Kanab and Fredonia, another little hamlet, we made at a jog trot, doing the distance in something over an hour. Outside of Fredonia we hit the trail, and went down and down into the red washes, and, over the sage speckled flats. It grew dusty and hot. About noon we reached the first slow roll of rising ridge, and from there on it was climb. More than once I looked back, and more than once I saw Hal having trouble with his pinto. Once Wings, as if he really had wings, flew off across a flat, and spilled Hal into the sage. Navvy got tired walking and climbed up on the grain-sacks on Marc, but he did not stay there very long. Then my pack horse made trouble for me by shying at a rattlesnake and getting off the trail. The time passed swiftly, as it always passed when we were on the move, and we reached the first cedars about three o'clock. Here I saw that our train was stretched