Unwittingly, Little Jim had placed his
father in a still more precarious position. Sneed and his men, finding
the corral empty, would naturally conclude that Cheyenne had kept them
busy while some friend had run off the horses. Cheyenne knew the risks
he ran; but, above all, he wanted to prolong the game until Little Jim
got safely beyond reach of Sneed's men. As for himself--
Again Cheyenne threw, but he did not make his point, nor throw a seven.
He threw several times; and still he did not make his point. Finally he
made his point. Smiling, he gathered up his money and tucked it in his
pocket.
"I reckon that settles it," he said cheerfully.
Sneed and Lawson exchanged glances. Cheyenne, rolling a cigarette, drew
a chair toward them and sat down. He seemed at home, and altogether
friendly. One of the men picked up a deck of cards and suggested a game.
Sneed lighted his pipe and stepped to the kitchen to get a drink of
water. Cheyenne glanced casually round the cabin, drew his feet under
himself, and jumped for the doorway. He heard Sneed drop the dipper and
knew that Sneed would pick up something else, and quickly.
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