on that." He recalled how white and soft were
Honey's hands, and he swore a little. "Wouldn't hurt her to get out
there in the kitchen and help with the cooking," he criticised. Then
suddenly he laughed. "Shucks a'mighty, as Pop says! with those two girls
on the ranch I'll gamble Dave Truman has a full crew of men that are
plumb willing to work for their board!"

The stage came, and Bud turned to it relievedly. After that, here came
Dave Truman on a deep-cheated roan. Bud knew him by his resemblance to
the old man, who came shuffling bent-backed from the machine-shed as
Dave passed.

Pop beckoned, and Dave reined his horse that way and stopped at the shed
door. The two talked for a minute and Dave rode on, passing Bud with a
curt nod. Pop came over to where Bud stood leaning against the corral.

"How are you feeling, dad?" Bud grinned absently.

"Purty stiff an' sore, boy--my rheumatics is bad to-day." Pop winked
solemnly. "I spoke to Dave about you wantin' a job, and I guess likely
Dave'll put you on. They's plenty to do--hayin' comin' on and all that."
He lowered his voice mysteriously, though there was no man save Bud
within a hundred feet of him. "Don't ye go 'n talk horses--not yet.
Don't let on like yore interested much. I'll tell yuh when to take 'em
up."

The men came riding in from the hayfield, some in wagons, two astride
harnessed work-horses, and one long-legged fellow in chaps on a mower,
driving a sweaty team that still had life enough to jump sidewise when
they spied Bud's pack by the corral. The stage driver sauntered up and
spoke to the men. Bud went over and began to help unhitch the team from
the mower, and the driver eyed him sharply while he grinned his greeting
across the backs of the horses.

"Pop says you're looking for work," Dave Truman observed, coming up.
"Well, if you ain't scared of it, I'll stake yuh to a hayfork after
dinner. Where yuh from?"

"Just right now, I'm from the Muleshoe. Bud Birnie's my name. I was
telling dad why I quit."

"Tell me," Dave directed briefly. "Pop ain't as reliable as he used to
be. He'd never get it out straight."

"I quit," said Bud, "by special request." He pulled off his gloves
carefully and held up his puffed knuckles. "I got that on Dirk Tracy."

The driver of the mower shot a quick, meaning glance at Dave, and
laughed shortly. Dave grinned a little, but he did not ask what had been
the trouble, as Bud had half expected him to do. Apparently Da