Novel 1968 - Down The Long Hills (v5.0) Read Online Free PDF Page A

on.”
    “If you kill these horses you’re likely never to find ’em. Think, man!”
    “Creek up ahead if I remember rightly,” Darrow commented. “There’ll be grass an’ water an’ fuel. I say we lay up a day, rest the horses, and scout around a mite. Meanwhile we can sort of take stock, consider the country up ahead, an’ try to figure where we stand.”
    It was good advice, and Scott knew it. And the camp they made was a good one, sheltered from the wind and the eyes of any passing Indian, with the branches of trees to thin out the smoke from their fire.
    Dusk had come by the time they had stripped the gear from their horses and staked them out on grass. Scott Collins walked up the low hill beyond the camp and stood listening into the night. Big Red could really move if they gave him his head, and he might have carried them this far. He was a fine horse and he loved that boy.
    But the night wind was cold. Would Hardy have a coat? And what about Andy Powell’s little girl? If she had just up and followed Hardy off, she would be lightly dressed, in no shape for a cold fall in Wyoming.
    For more than an hour he stayed on the knoll, straining his ears for any sound, seeking to identify each one, hoping with all that was in him for the sound of Big Red’s hoofs, or the faint cry of a child.
    Bill Squires came up to join him. “Scott, this ain’t doin’ you no good. Come down an’ eat. Get some rest. Frank’s throwed together some grub, an’ you sure look peaked.”
    “They’re out there somewhere, Bill…we’ve got to find them.”
    “If they’re alive, we’ll find them.”
    The dancing fire brought no comfort, but the food was good, and the strong black coffee helped to lift their spirits a little.
    “We’d better stand watch,” Squires suggested. “Me an’ Frank will stand the first two. Get yourself some sleep.”
    And Scott Collins did sleep, and while he slept he dreamed of a great red stallion and two children, who rode on and on through endless nights of cold.

Chapter 3
    A FTER THE FOURTH day Betty Sue asked no more about her mother, nor did she cry at all. Her face became thin, her eyes unnaturally large. She clung to Hardy, so close he found it difficult to picket the stallion or hunt for food or fuel.
    They had come to the crossing of Pole Creek, but they found it dry in both directions. There was grass, very good grass, and despite the lack of water Hardy stopped long enough to let Big Red fill his belly. And then, for the first time, he found a place where he could mount the horse.
    There might have been other such places, but from the reverse slopes where they walked, the country along the river, seen in occasional glimpses through gaps among the low hills, looked as dangerous as it did inviting.
    He mounted the horse from a bank of the creek, and at once they moved away at a good clip. Big Red was restive and eager to go. He had been worried all day, Hardy could see it in his manner; and the horse did not like the feel of the cool wind coming out of the north.
    On this day they ate the last of their small store of food, a can of beans. Betty Sue ate hungrily, then looked longingly at what still remained of Hardy’s, so he gave it to her, hungry though he was.
    He thought of the big Indian. Though there had been no sign of him, Hardy was not reassured. The Indian had probably said nothing to the others, wanting their scalps for himself, and wanting Big Red. It could be he was pursuing them even now.
    During the course of the day they crossed and recrossed the creek bed, once finding a pool of water. There was water in the canteen, so they did not drink, Hardy not liking the look of the water, but the stallion drank, and gratefully.
    The sky was an unbroken gray when they started on again, and the bluffs were covered with dead pines. The day was bleak and cold. Big Red moved out anxiously, eager to be going. Hardy studied their back trail from time to time, but saw nothing