Free Novel 1968 - Down The Long Hills (v5.0) by Louis L’Amour

them. Hardy had no thought except to escape, and he rode swiftly. Once away from the scene of the fight, Big Red seemed eager enough to be going, and they made good time, crossing a shoulder of the mountain by a faint trail, and descending toward the river.
    There they came upon an old wagon trail, and Hardy followed it, content to be headed west, or almost west.
    He had no idea who had been shooting from the brush, but he suspected it was the Indian who had followed them. All he could think of was that they were getting away, leaving the grizzly behind. Now, for the first time, he was aware that he was really frightened. It came over him all of a sudden, and he clung, trembling, to the stallion’s back.
    After a while he felt better; the stars came out, and the big stallion moved on steadily, seemingly in no hurry to stop for the night. A light wind came down from the mountains, cool from the snows and fresh from the pines. Several times Hardy almost fell asleep, but the horse plodded on, regardless.
    The trail turned slightly north, then still farther north, but Hardy was only half awake, and scarcely noticed. They came out of the trees into a valley of long meadows, streams, and scattered clumps of trees. And then, suddenly, the stallion stopped.
    Hardy opened his eyes wide. Betty Sue was asleep in his arms, but the big horse, ears up, was staring ahead, and seemed to be scenting the air.
    Hardy sat up tall and peered past Big Red’s head. Some distance off, right down on the ground, there was a light…a fire!
    A campfire…
    Hardy’s heart took a great leap…it must be pa! Pa had come hunting for them! He slapped his small heels against the stallion’s side and started forward. But, the big horse hung back, seemingly reluctant to go on.
    Could it be Indians?
    Hardy rode more cautiously. Suddenly, somewhere ahead, a horse whinnied, and there was a flurry of movement near the fire.
    Hardy walked the horse a little closer. He could see two saddles, some pack saddles, and a coffeepot on the fire, and there was a smell of bacon.…
    “Set right still,” a voice said, “or I’m likely to fire. Now you jest walk that horse right up to the fire an’ le’s have a look at you.”
    Hardy tried to speak, but his throat was tight. He walked the horse forward, and suddenly he heard the voice say, “Hell, it’s a couple of kids!”
    “They come from somewhar,” the other man said. “That means thar’s folks about.”
    “Here? At this time of year?”
    “Well, look at ’em.”
    One of the men was lean and somewhat stooped; he had a hard, angular face and small cruel eyes. He walked forward, looking at Big Red. “Jud,” he exclaimed, “would you look at that horse now? Man’s there’s a
hoss!
”
    “He belongs to my pa,” Hardy managed to say.
    “Well, mebbe. Whar is your pa, boy?”
    “He’s…he’s back on the trail. He’s hunting us.”
    The other man was shorter, barrel-chested. He walked slowly up to them, studying the stallion. “You mean he don’t know whar you be? How’d that happen?”
    Betty Sue wakened and was staring at the men, wide-eyed. She felt tense in Hardy’s arms, as if frightened. Well, Hardy reflected, so was he. There was something about these men…
    Hardy explained briefly how their wagons had been burned, how they had started on west. Once he started talking, he told them about the Indian, then about the grizzly.
    “Aw, come off it!” The shorter man scoffed. “A grizzly’d kill you quicker’n scat. No horse can match up to a grizzly!”
    “Red wasn’t afraid. He fought him.”
    “Reckon he did, at that,” the taller man said, “He got clawed along the ribs.” The man reached a hand up for Red’s bridle, and the stallion jerked his head away.
    “Don’t you pull away from me, damn you!” The tall man lifted a hand to strike Red, but the stallion swung away and Hardy said “Don’t you dare strike my horse!”
    “Take it easy, Cal,” Jud said, more quietly.