Читать книгу Cinchfoot - Thomas C. Hinkle - Страница 6

CINCHFOOT couldn’t understand why Blaze Face had been taken away from him. Everything seemed wrong after that. Cinchfoot stood on a high hill on the trail over which they had taken Blaze Face. It was dark now and the moon had come up over a long line of hills toward the east. The stars were shining, too, and the western night was about as bright as a night could be. Cinchfoot had already learned that the night had for him both advantages and disadvantages. He knew he could get around and go places in the dark without so much danger of being seen, but at the same time he knew that other things could hide and see him and so he might be in danger without knowing where the danger was. That’s why Cinchfoot stood on the hill in the silence and looked and waited.

At last he started walking down the hill and when he was on the level below he started at a gallop across the plain. During the last of the daylight he had seen the place where they stopped with Blaze Face. But it was so far in the distance things looked dim there. He had seen the cowboys on their horses riding around the place and he had seen what he knew was a small herd of horses without men on their backs, horses that were loose but not free! Cinchfoot knew that when those men got up close to a small herd of loose horses they took the horses away with them. He was almost afraid at this time even to think about it. He stopped and stood still for a minute in the moonlight. The wind was blowing in his face and he not only scented the horses but he got the man scent, too. And now he saw a light in the distance. Two of them, in fact. The lights came from two small windows in the ranch house. Cinchfoot snorted a little. After a time he started at a trot. It was night now, so he would come closer to the place. Presently he stopped, listened, snorted and then trotted forward, when he stopped again. This time he got a scent that he recognized. It was that of his pal, Blaze Face. Cinchfoot sent forth a nicker toward his crony. Immediately the nicker was answered by one from Blaze Face.

Cinchfoot went at a gallop now and he didn’t stop until he was close enough to the horse corrals to see the horses in one of them, but as yet he couldn’t see Blaze Face. Just then a low nicker from Blaze Face told Cinchfoot in what corral he was. And again Blaze Face nickered low to him as if saying, “Come over here, pal! I’m over here.” But Cinchfoot was suspicious of things generally around the place. He wanted to be careful. He had not as yet felt the hands of men on him, and while he was looking, he was also ready to run. He was well aware that if the men got him they would hold him so he couldn’t get away. He would be like the other horses in the corral, horses that he could now see milling around in there a little way beyond him. The horses did not seem to like it in the corral. Now and then one of them would squeal and Cinchfoot knew what that sound meant. It meant that the horses in the corral were quarreling and now and then biting one another. He took a few steps closer to this corral where the horses were. They again started milling and squealing and biting. Once a number of them ran and crowded against the side of the high pole corral and if it had not been very strong the horses would have crashed out. Cinchfoot thought in his own language, “Yes, they all want to get out of that place but they can’t. These two-legged animals that ride horses have shut these horses in here; at least they have had something to do with it and I’m suspicious. I’ll walk around here and look things over, but I’ll take no chances. I don’t aim to let them shut me up! Not by a good deal. I’ve got plenty things to do of my own. I’ll see now what’s the matter with Blaze Face. It seems he keeps standing in another place. Ah! there he is, in there, and the gate open! Yes, there it is, wide open! I’ll nicker to him and see what he says.”

Cinchfoot nickered low and Blaze Face nickered low in return and called Cinchfoot, telling him to come closer. There was no doubt about Blaze Face’s sincerity, but unfortunately he didn’t know what he was calling Cinchfoot into. Cinchfoot walked up to the open gate, got scared, snorted, ran off a little and then back he came. He did this three times. The third time he galloped up to the open corral as if this time he surely would go in and up to Blaze Face, but again he stopped short, spraddled his front legs to stop himself, and with his head low, his eyes looking scared, he snorted again. Somehow that opening seemed suspicious. It looked almost too easy to go in there. And why wouldn’t Blaze Face come on out? In the same way, why did the horses in the big corral keep milling around and squealing and biting each other? Always before Cinchfoot had seen these same horses run away from the men even when the men were a long distance off. But now they were caught! And so Cinchfoot was suspicious. He wanted so much to run up to his old pal, Blaze Face. In fact, at times he could hardly resist. The only way he kept from going in was to stop suddenly at the opening, whirl and run as hard as he could out on the open plain. He would tear out as if maybe he was going into new country and stay there, but each time he would stop, hold his head high and look back. Then he would hear Blaze Face nicker and back Cinchfoot would come!

It was hard to know which way to run, away from the horse corral or back to it. Then he seemed decided on a plan, and he carried it out. He galloped clear around both the horse corrals, snorting as he galloped as if to scare away anything that was not friendly to him. But Cinchfoot did not happen to dash suddenly into one of the dark stables nearby. If he had he would have startled a cowboy and embarrassed him considerably. That cowboy was Clem Brown. Clem had taken up his place in the dark stall of a stable and he knew he would stay there until morning and watch, unless Cinchfoot at last galloped into the corral and up to Blaze Face. Clem knew that if he could capture the colt this would save a hard run after him. He knew that if Cinchfoot once dashed into the corral and he could slip out and shut that gate quick enough, the colt was his. Clem had taken this dark place to watch because it was easy for him to see Cinchfoot and all he did in the bright moonlight outside. At present Clem began to fear that Cinchfoot would find him! Cinchfoot did run around another nearby stable. He even looked in at the door and snorted but there was nothing inside. He stood there for a minute in the moonlight and Clem could see his ears moving quickly back and forth. But Cinchfoot quit his investigation after that and Clem thought, maybe the reason he didn’t run around and look in at this stall in the stable was because this building was on a creek bank and the door here was pretty close to a deep ravine. Cinchfoot likely did not care to take any chances there, not knowing much about the place anyway. So he looked around generally except the one place where Clem was hiding.

The horses in the big corral all at once got quiet. They had quit milling around and squealing and biting, for the time at least. Cinchfoot walked up close to this corral and looked in at the horses standing there. As it happened he looked right in the face of an old brown mare that wasn’t any too well satisfied at being cooped up in the corral. She snorted loudly when Cinchfoot woke her up, from a dream maybe, and she seemed to say to him, “What do you want around here! Waking a person up like that! They’ll get you next. You better use your legs while you can!” Something like that must have been in what the old mare snorted, for 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.