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The
sun felt warm on his cheek. And at the moment he heard the whistle of his
horse.
"Good old Nagger!" he said. "I shore won't have to track you this mornin'."
Presently he went off into the cedars to find Nagger and the mustang that he
used to carry a pack. Nagger was grazing in a little open patch among the
trees, but the pack-horse was missing. Slone seemed to know in what direction
to go to find the trail, for he came upon it very soon. The pack-horse wore
hobbles, but he belonged to the class that could cover a great deal of ground
when hobbled. Slone did not expect the horse to go far, considering that the
grass thereabouts was good. But in a wild-horse country it was not safe to
give any horse a chance. The call of his wild brethren was irresistible.
Slone, however, found the mustang standing quietly in a clump of cedars, and,
removing the hobbles, he mounted and rode back to camp. Nagger caught sight of
him and came at his call.
This horse Nagger appeared as unique in his class as Slone was rare among
riders.


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