d him gently
by the sleeve and asked in a tone of real sympathy and concern: "Say,
mistah! 'Fo' God, won't yo' mah let yo' wear long pants?"

Naturally the tenderfoot's indignation was aroused and expressed, but
Kit's sympathies for a man condemned to such a juvenile costume were so
far stirred that he took no notice of it.

Kit was a typical cowboy, industrious, faithful, uncomplaining, of the
good old Southern Texas breed. In the saddle from daylight till dark,
riding completely down to the last jump in them two or three horses a
day, it never occurred to him even to growl when a stormy night, with
thunder and lightning, prolonged his customary three-hour's turn at night
guard round the herd to an all-night's vigil. He took it as a matter of
course. And his rope and running iron were ever ready, and his weather
eye alert for a chance to catch and decorate with the X brand any stray
cattle that ventured within his range. This was a peculiar phase of
cowboy character. While not himself profiting a penny by these inroads
on neighboring herds, he was never quite so happy as when he had added
another maverick to the herd bearing his employer's brand, an increase
always obtained at the expense of some of the neighbors.

One night on the Spring round-up, the day's work finished, supper eaten,
the night horses caught and saddled, the herd in hand driven into a close
circle and bedded down for the night in a little glade in the hills, Kit
was standing first relief. The day's drive had been a heavy one, the
herd was well grazed and watered in the late afternoon, the night was
fine; and so the twelve hundred or fifteen hundred cattle in the herd
were lying down quietly, giving no trouble to the night herders. Kit,
therefore, was jogging slowly round the herd, softly jingling his spurs
and humming some rude love song of the sultry sort cowboys never tire of
repeating. The stillness of the night superinduced reflection. With
naught to interrupt it, Kit's curiosity ran farther afield than usual.

Recently down at Lordsburg, with the outfit shipping a train load of
beeves, he had seen the Overland Express empty its load of passengers for
supper, a crowd of well-dressed men and women, the latter brilliant with
the bright colors cowboys love and with glittering gems. To-night he got
to thinking about them.

Wherever did they all come from? How ever did they get so much money?
Surely they must come from 'Frisco. No les