th Collie that evening was brief. It left a
lot to the imagination. "You said too much about Overland Red the other
night, when you was talkin' to Silent Saunders," said Williams. "He's
tryin' to find out somethin'. I don't know what he's after. Keep your
eye peeled and your teeth on the bit. That's all."

CHAPTER XVI

BLUNDER

"Oh, he's built all right, and he comes of good stock," said Brand
Williams, nodding toward a bay colt that stood steaming in the sun.

It had rained the night before--an unexpected shower and the last of the
winter rains. Now that the snow had left the hills, the young stock,
some thirty-odd year-old colts had been turned into the north range.
Collie and Williams had ridden over to look at the colts; Williams as a
matter of duty, Collie because he was interested and liked Williams's
society.

The colt, shaking itself, turned and nipped at its shoulder and switched
its tail.

"He's stayed fat, too," continued Williams. "But look at him! He's
bitin' and switchin' because he's wet. Thinks it's fly-time a'ready.
He's jest a four-legged horse-hide blunder. I know his kind."

Collie, dismounting and unbuttoning his slicker, rolled it and tied it
to the saddle. "I guess you're right, Brand. Last week I was over this
way. He had his head through the corral bars at the bottom and he
couldn't get loose. He was happy, though. He must have been there quite
a spell, for he ate about half a bale of hay. I got him loose and he
tried his darndest to kick my head off."

"Uhuh," grunted the foreman. "Reckon it's the last rain we'll get this
year. Now would you look at that! He's the limit!"

The colt, sniffing curiously at a crotch in the live-oak against which
he had been rubbing, had stepped into the low fork of the tree. Perhaps
he had some vague notion to rub both his sides at once as an economy of
effort. His front feet had slipped on the wet ground. He went down,
wedged fast. He struggled and kicked. He nickered plaintively, and
rolled his terror-stricken eyes toward the cowmen in wild appeal.

"And like all of his kind, hoss and human," said Williams, dismounting,
"he's askin' for help in a voice that sounds like it was our fault that
he's in trouble. He's the limit!"

With much labor they finally released the colt, who expressed prompt
gratitude by launching a swift and vicious kick at Collie.

"He's feeling good enough," said that youth, coolly picking up his hat
that had dropped a