Cinchfoot lit out from the place at a dead run. This time he ran all the way up to the top of a ridge a quarter of a mile away. There in the moonlight he ran back and forth, while he snorted to his heart’s content. He was free and he felt good about it. The only trouble out here was he had no company and in particular old Blaze Face didn’t seem to leave the corral.
All was still out here along the ridge and in the valley around the ranch. In fact things were too still. Cinchfoot couldn’t hear anything except his own scared snorts and now and then the yip, yap of a coyote. But pretty soon another sound was heard. It was the nicker of a horse that floated out in the night from a point near the ranch house. Cinchfoot recognized it because that was the same nicker he had heard many times before. It was Blaze Face calling to Cinchfoot and he knew it. No use to try to run away from it. Nothing was right, no matter where, unless Blaze Face was close by. Cinchfoot again started at a run for the place where that nicker came from. And a change had come over him now. He was still afraid, but not so much; he had got a little used to things around the place. As he ran up close to the corral this time, he looked over at the ranch house. It looked safe enough. It was dark there and not a sound came from it. Cinchfoot snorted loudly as he looked at the long low house. But nothing happened. The house remained as before, very quiet. Then Cinchfoot, his head high, his tail in the air, ran once around the house and still nothing happened. Again he looked at the house and blew loudly through his nostrils as if to say, “Well! If that’s all there is around here, nothing but the dark, I’ll take more chances.”
It was while he was in this frame of mind that a new scent came to the nose of Cinchfoot. It was the horse scent but it was not that in either of the corrals. The wind had veered around and now blew across a small creek, with its fringe of woods, a little below the house. Cinchfoot started out to see what was there. He made his way beyond the ranch house and, ready to jump at his own shadow, walked down some shelving ground and up to another corral near the woods by the stream. Cinchfoot at once looked into the corral. Loud snorts from inside greeted him and he saw not only big horses in here but also several colts about the same size as he was. A short time before, these colts had been driven in with some horses and branded. They would be held there a few days and then turned loose again, but they couldn’t tell Cinchfoot what had happened to them. He looked at the colts for a brief time, then it seemed to him that he had better find Blaze Face to associate with or he would be left alone permanently. He turned from this place and again trotted close to the ranch house, stopped and snorted. The place was as dark and still as ever. No sign of life there. And while he knew someone was in that place, yet they seemed to be so quiet that he began to lose more of his fear. Again he heard the nicker of Blaze Face calling him and telling him to come up.
Cinchfoot ran to the open gate and again he looked at Blaze Face. At last most of the fear was gone. The space left by the open gate was so wide it seemed one could run out again if things happened Cinchfoot did not hesitate this time. He leaped forward and in a few jumps he was up to Blaze Face and the two of them began talking to each other with many sounds that both of them understood. Then something happened, and it happened quickly. The corral gate went shut. And at the same time a man was seen outside in the shadows.
Blaze Face lunged back against the rope that held him, and Cinchfoot was so scared he crowded hard against Blaze Face. For a minute the man stood looking in the corral at Cinchfoot, then he walked away from the corral and disappeared in the shadows toward the ranch house.
After some time had gone by Cinchfoot walked over to the gate and investigated it by smelling it. He would smell it for a little, then start back and snort as if the man were still there. And as the night wore on Cinchfoot began to be more and more concerned about getting out. He knew he was caught and all the rest of the night his actions told that he knew. He could not stand long beside Blaze Face. He had to walk around the corral and stop often at the gate to see if there was some way to get out of the place. Now and then he would look toward the ranch house standing so quiet and dark there in the shadows.
As Cinchfoot walked around the corral wondering how he could get out he stopped and looked up at the top poles. They were about eight feet high. No chance there. Finally Cinchfoot stopped looking and got close beside Blaze Face. The two of them stood in the stillness and as the time passed by looked mainly toward the ranch house. They both knew that was where the men were. At times Cinchfoot heard a noise down in the corral below, near the creek woods where the other colts were. They were milling around down there and he heard the sounds of their hoofs as they thumped on the hard ground. After a time the night was almost still. Only vague sounds could be heard, sounds so vague no one could tell what made them. And once a shadow moved silently across the moonlight when an owl flew over the place and circled back once to look down in the corral where Cinchfoot stood. For the time everything seemed harmless, but Cinchfoot didn’t want to be here knowing he couldn’t get out. He began again to walk around in the corral and the more he looked at his prison the more anxious he was to get away. Once he leaped from the far side of the corral and ran to Blaze Face and stared at his friend as if to say, “I can’t understand this business! We should get out right away. But you seem to want to stay always in the same place. I’m suspicious of the two-legged creatures that I know are in that dark building just beyond there. They’re mighty quiet now, but you know how they are when daylight comes! I have no faith in them. Well, well, this is a mess we got into and no way to get out unless maybe we can jump as high as the moon!” And Cinchfoot ran around and around the corral and then back to Blaze Face. He ran so hard and snorted so much he got all the horses on the place scared. They could be heard snorting in the corral down by the creek and in the nearby corral, also. Even some of the saddle horses in the stalls in one of the stables began to snort and it was certain that if Cinchfoot couldn’t stand still and sleep he wasn’t going to let others sleep either.
After a time he began to realize that the day was coming. At first only the faintest gray streaks began to steal over the place but in a little time the gray began to show things up and it was not long until Cinchfoot could see the ranch house, the trees along the creek, and the horses in the corral. And now he began to watch the ranch house. He blew loudly through his nose, his eyes wide and shining. He knew where the men were and he knew that just any time he would see them coming out of the ranch house and up here to this corral where he and Blaze Face stood. Now and then he stamped the ground in his fear and impatience. It seemed, almost, that he wanted them to come and have it over with. But Cinchfoot didn’t know what was going to happen to him. All he knew was that he wanted to be free. He had known this since he was a little colt. And as the days and weeks of his short life had gone by he had known it more and more. It was something fixed in him. Blaze Face waited as did Cinchfoot at this time for the coming of the men, but Blaze Face knew more about what would happen than Cinchfoot did. Now and then he uttered a loud, violent snort in answer to that of his smaller friend, as if to say, “That’s right, little feller! Keep it up! It does me good and when they come, fight ’em! Fight ’em and don’t quit and some day we’ll get out of this and we’ll stay in the wild places!”
Suddenly both Cinchfoot and Blaze Face stood very still and looked with blazing eyes at the ranch house. A dozen cowboys were coming out and coming toward the corral.
IV: Clem Brown
WHILE Clem and all the cowboys stood around the corral looking in at Cinchfoot, Clem was doing some thinking. After a time he said to Sam Blades, “Sam, I want you fellers to brand him today and be as good to him as you can. I’m awful set on that little horse and I got plans for him. I’m going to brand him and keep him a stallion and I don’t want him to see me or smell me so he can associate me with the branding. You fellers go ahead and get that done quick and then we’ll let him alone for a week in a corral all by himself. We’ll set feed and water in for him and let him alone.”
Clem went away and a few minutes later Clem’s brand was on Cinchfoot and he was up and tearing around in the corral; and it seemed by the way he looked up at the top poles, he wanted to jump clear over. The brand did not hurt him much. It was more the scare than anything
