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Andy moved his head uneasily. “I–I’ve got to,” he retorted weakly, and even essayed a smile to reassure them. “I–ain’t all–in yet,” he added with an evident effort, and the Happy Family gulped sympathetically, and wondered secretly if they would have such nerve under like conditions.

“It’s going to be one hell of a trip for yuh,” Weary murmured commiseratingly, when they were lifting him into the saddle. Of a truth, it did seem absolutely foolhardy to attempt it, but there was nothing else to do, unless they left him there. For no wagon could possibly be driven within miles of the place.

Andy leaned limply over the saddle-horn, his face working with the agony he suffered. Somehow they had got him upon the horse of Jack Bates, but they had felt like torturers while they did it, and the perspiration on their faces was not all caused by heat.

“My God, I’d rather be hung than go through this again,” muttered Cal, white under the tan. “I–“

“I’ll tackle–it now,” gasped Andy, with a pitiful attempt to sit straight in the saddle. “Get on–boys–“

Reluctantly they started to obey, when the horse of Jack Bates gave a sudden leap ahead. Many hands reached out to grasp him by the bridle, but they were a shade too late, and he started to run, with Andy swaying in the saddle. While they gazed horrified, he straightened convulsively, turned his face toward them and raised a hand; caught his hat by the brim and swung it high above his head.

“Much obliged, boys,” he yelled derisively. “I sure do appreciate being packed up that hill; it was too blamed hot to walk. Say! if you’d gone around that bend, you’d uh found a good trail down. Yuh struck about the worst place there is. So-long–I ain’t all in yet!” He galloped away, while the Happy Family stared after him with bulging eyes.

“The son-of-a-gun!” gasped Weary weakly, and started for his horse.

“Darn yuh, you’ll be all in when we get hold of yuh!” screamed Jack Bates, and gave chase.

It was when they were tearing headlong after him down the coulee’s rim and into a shallow gully which seamed unexpectedly the level, that they saw his horse swerve suddenly and go bounding along the edge of the slope with Andy “sawing” energetically upon the bit.

“What trick’s he up to now?” cried Cal Emmett resentfully, feeling that, in the light of what had gone before, Andy could not possibly make a single motion in good faith.

Andy brought his horse under control and turned back to meet them, and the Happy Family watched him guardedly until they reached the gulley and their own horses took fright at a dark, shambling object that scuttled away down toward the coulee-head. Andy was almost upon them before they could give him any attention.

“Did you see it?” he called excitedly. “It was a bear, and he was digging at something under that shelving rock. Come on and let’s take a look.”

“Aw, gwan!” Happy Jack adjured crossly. He was thinking of all the water he had carried painstakingly in his hat, for the relief of this conscienceless young reprobate, and he was patently suspicious of some new trick.

“Well, by gracious!” Andy rode quite close–dangerously close, considering the mood they were in–and eyed them queerly. “I sure must have a horrible rep, when yuh won’t believe your own eyes just because I happen to remark that a bear is a bear. I’ll call it a pinto hog, if it’ll make yuh feel any better. And I’ll say it wasn’t doing any digging; only, I’m going down there and take a look. There’s an odor–“

There was, and they could not deny it, even though Andy did make the assertion. And though they had threatened much that was exceedingly unpleasant, and what they would surely do to Andy if they ever got him within reach, they followed him quite peaceably.