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beenseentoleadhisbandupoverthebarrentrailless
rockbenchesthatledtothetoweringwallofthe
unscalablemesa.Thesewildhorsesleftnotracks.They
hadnotreturned.Keen-eyedPiuteshadwatchedthe
onlypossibledescentsovertheredbenches.Panquitch
wasontopofthemesa,freewiththebig-hornsheep
andtheeagles.Thefactwrungprofoundrespectand
admirationfromChaneWeymer,yetfiredhimwith
passionateresolve.Foralongtimethatwildmesahad
hauntedhim.Thereasonforit,thealluringcallofthe
wanderingloftywall,nowseemedeasilyunderstood.
“Panquitch,I’vegottrackofyouatlast!”
heexclaimed,exultantly.
ThereawokeinChanethensomethingofabandon
towhathehadalwayslongedfor–awildfreedom
withoutworkorrestraintorwillotherthanhisown
wanderingfancies.Indeed,hisrangelifehadbeen
roughandhardenough,butupuntilthelastyear
hehadbeenunderobligationtohisfatherandother
employers,andalwaystherehadbeenapowerful
senseofdutyandaloveforhisyoungerbrother.
Chess.Thesehadactedasbarrierstohisnatural
instincts.Chesswaseighteennowandconsidered
himselfverymuchofaman,somuchsothat
heresentedChane’sguardianship.
“BoyBluedoesn’tneedhisbigbrotheranymore,”
soliloquizedChane,halfsadly,rememberingChess’s
impatienceatbeingwatchedover.Time,indeed,had
passedswiftly.Chesswasalmostaman.Itseemedonly
ashortwhilesincehehadbeenababyboy,backthere
inColorado,wherehehadbeenborn.Chanereflected
onhisownage–thirty-four,andonthosepastyears
whenthisbelovedbrotherhadbeenalittlechild.
ThoseearlydaysinColoradohadbeenhappyones.
TheWeymerswereafamilyofcloseties.Chane’s
fatherhadbeenaranchman,cattleman,andhorse-
dealer.IthadbeenontheprairieslopesofColorado,
undertheeasternshadowsoftheRockies,thatChane
hadlearnedwhatwasnowhiscalling–thehunting