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Then Shadow began to run back and forth once more, but more carefully than before. And then he started straight for where Jumper was crouching! Jumper knew then that Shadow had found his trail. Jumper drew a long breath and settled his long hind feet for a great jump, hoping to so take Whitey the Owl by surprise that he might be able to get away.
There was the iron-gray colt, still restless and as ready for the fourteen-mile ride back as he was for his breakfast. While Whitey limped into the ranch house for some clothing and footwear, the cook had his own troubles getting his own saddle and bridle on that pony. When Whitey reappeared and was helped into the saddle, he let out a yell of agony and helped himself out again.
It's a movie outfit. I'm just gettin' hot under the collar, too, when I discovers that the gent in charge is none other than my old newspaper friend, Whitey Weeks. I'd heard how he'd gone into the film game as stage director, but I hadn't seen him at it yet.
Three men were seated near by, and Whitey was about to get out of the bunk, when he recognized the voice of String Beans, and something held him back. It was evident that the men did not know that he was there. Whitey felt something warm stir against him, and, startled, put out his hand and encountered a hairy surface.
"That's what Bill means," explained Shorty. "Aw, let him tell th' story," said Charlie Bassett. "You fellers that ain't liars yourselves is all jealous." Whitey would have thought that the tale was to go untold had he not known that every story of Buck's met with this sort of reception, and that nothing short of an earthquake could keep him from talking.
In short, they were regular boots, that any one might be proud of. And they had been made to order for Whitey! It would be useless to attempt a description of how Whitey felt about those boots. Shakespeare would have to come back to life to do that, and I doubt if he could have done it. I know that Bacon could not.
This, tucked in a large pair of men's trousers, below which were beaded moccasins, was Injun's costume, which he wore with quiet dignity. "What do you s'pose that is?" asked Whitey, pointing at the speck. "Dog," Injun answered briefly. "A dog!" cried Whitey, who, though he had never ceased to wonder at Injun's keenness of sight, was inclined to question it now. "What can a dog be doing out there?"
"I dunno," said Sandersen, apparently much perturbed. "They outlawed 'em both, Whitey?" There was an eagerness in this question so poorly concealed that Cartwright jerked up his head and regarded Sandersen with interest. "Both," replied Whitey. "You seem sort of pleased, Sandersen?" "I knowed that Sinclair would come to a bad end," said Sandersen more soberly.
That sight grated harshly, and Wilford, knowing this was the uncle of whom Katy had often spoken, felt glad that he was not bound to her by any pledge. Very curiously he looked after the couple, witnessing the meeting between Katy and old Whitey, and guessing rightly that the corn-colored vehicle was the one sent to transport Katy home.
If Whitey had been a dog, a goat, a fowl, or even a stray calf, they would have felt equal to him; but now that the earlier glow of their wild daring had disappeared, vague apprehensions stirred. Whisperings within them began to urge that for boys to undertake an enterprise connected with so huge an animal as an actual horse was perilous.
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