Chuck returned with the handful of dishes and laid them by the fire where the heat would dry them thoroughly.

“You dropped a letter,” said Slim. “I tossed it over on your blanket roll.”

Chuck straightened up quickly, almost too quickly, thought Slim, and stepped around the fire. The Circle Four cowboy picked up the letter, glanced at it quickly but thoroughly, and slipped it into an inner pocket.

“Thanks. It’s important, I wouldn’t want to lose it.”

“There are lots of valuable things we don’t like to lose,” said Slim. “Once in a while they disappear and we can’t seem to do much about it.” His eyes wandered over to the saddle which he had pulled off Lightning only a little more than two hours before.

“Meaning what?”

“Meaning my horse, for instance. If I’d have thought for a minute that I’d have lost Lightning when I went trailing down to help you out, I’m not so sure I’d have gone.”

“You’re not putting a whole lot of value on my life,” smiled Chuck.

“Maybe it’s just that I’m placing a lot of value on a good horse.”

“You must have thought a deal of that animal. Now you take the cayuse that was shot out from under me--just a plain range horse. Plenty good for cow work, but nothing fancy, and about as ornery as you can make them. Course I hate to lose the horse, but I’m not going to shed a whole lot of tears.”

In spite of himself, Slim felt his eyes filling as he looked at the saddle. His voice choked.

“You can say that all right. You had just a plain horse to lose--but I had Lightning.”

Chuck looked at his companion sharply and saw that Slim was deeply affected.

“I never had anything but a cayuse,” he said. “Maybe if I’d had a really fine horse I would have some idea of how you feel.”

“Maybe you would. You see, Lightning was almost human. I could talk to her and she’d understand almost everything I said.”

“That’s a lot more than a good many humans can do.”

“Lightning was smarter than a lot of humans.” Slim stretched his long legs on the blanket beside the fire, pillowed his head on the saddle and looked up toward the new moon.

A desperate ache tugged at his heart. Lightning was gone and there was only a great void there. He had to talk, he had to tell Chuck about the wonder of his horse. If he didn’t he knew he would burst out in tears, a highly undignified thing for a husky young cowhand to do.

“Lightning was a sorrel with a white star on her forehead and white feet. She was long-legged, fast as the wind, and with plenty of endurance. There wasn’t a horse anywhere around that could make her go her limit, and when it came time for the round-up, she could do the work of any other three horses.”

“Sounds kinda like a wonder horse,” said Chuck as he tossed another handful of wood on the flames.

“She was a wonder horse in every sense of the word,” went on Slim. “Lightning was a queer mixture. Her mother just a plain cayuse on the Flying Arrow. We never knew just exactly what kind of a horse her father was, but my Dad swears that it must have been Nige, leader of the band of wild horses over on the Sunfield spur of the Cajons. Nige’s never been broken, and only a few people have ever been able to get a rope around him. He’s a beauty--coal black and all fire and temper.”

Chuck nodded.

Even over on the Circle Four they had heard about Nige and his small band of wild horses which roamed the eastern slope of the Cajons.

“I’ve heard there was Kentucky blood in Nige,” said the Circle Four cowboy.

“That’s what my Dad always said,” went on Slim. “Anyway one of our cayuses, just a plain little sorrel with a splash of white on her face and legs, was the mother of Lightning. She was a colt in a thousand, you could see that at a glance.”

Slim paused and looked up at the moon again for comfort. The ache was still in his heart, but talking to Chuck, telling him about Lightning, was easing a little of the piercing pain.

“I was just coming along to the age when I was going to need a good horse,” went on Slim, “and Dad picked out Lightning and turned her over to me. We seemed to get along first-rate right from the start, seemed to understand just what the other wanted to do. Why, I remember one time in spring round-up when Lightning went into a prairie dog’s hole and threw me. I busted one leg and sprained the other so bad I couldn’t stand. There I was sprawled flat on the range, five miles from the chuck wagon and a thunderin’ big storm whooping down out of the mountains.

“Lightning took one good look at me and set out for the chuck wagon at a full gallop. It wasn’t an hour later when she brought Dad and the boys back with her. They got there just before the rain and believe me, I was glad to see them.”

“I’ve heard of horses like that,” nodded Chuck, “but I never knew anyone that owned one.”

“There’s only one Lightning. At first I trained her so she wouldn’t let anyone else ride her, but the other boys on the ranch didn’t like it very well so I broke her of that habit. If I hadn’t done that, she’d never have been ridden away from here this afternoon. It used to be she’d lash out with her feet whenever anyone came near, but that was kinda dangerous on the ranch.”

“How do you suppose the fellows that were gunning for me got her?” asked Chuck.

“All they had to do was to walk up and climb on, she was that gentle. Believe me, if I ever get her back, she’s going to be a one-man horse from now on.”

“I’m afraid there isn’t much chance you’ll ever get her back,” said Chuck, “if this country is as sparsely settled as you say.”

“I’ll get her back somehow,” replied Slim in a tone that brooked no good for the men who had taken Lightning.

They were silent for a time, both thinking of the long walk down the Sky High trail that faced them with the coming of the dawn.

“Funny I didn’t see you ahead of me when you went over the summit,” said Slim.

“I must have crossed a good hour ahead of you. My horse was pretty badly winded and I didn’t try to make much time for the first half hour coming down this side. Fact of the matter is, I stopped a little above here for water and to let the cayuse graze.”

The fire was dying and there was no need to put on fresh wood for they were ready to roll into their blankets. Slim kicked his boots off, pulled the blanket up around his shoulders, and said good night to his new-found companion.

He was worn out by the long ride of the day, the adventure in the boulder-strewn wash below and the mental grief of having lost Lightning. But sleep did not come at once.

Why had Chuck been ambushed? His thoughts centered on the letter in his own shirt and the one that Chuck had dropped. Both were from Bill Needham. Could they be on the same mysterious mission, could both be answering a sudden call from the old cattleman?