ed something like seventeen dollars. But
there is nothing impossible to youth--for when youth realizes the
impossible, youth has grown a beard and fears the fire.

Both boys knew that there were many poor Mexicans in the town of Concho
who, when under the expansive influence of wine, would part with almost
anything they or their neighbors possessed, for a consideration. There
were Mexicans who would sell horse, saddle, and bridle for that amount,
especially when thirsty--for seventeen dollars meant unlimited vino and
a swaggering good time--for a time. Pete knew this only too well. He
suggested the idea to Andy, who concurred with enthusiasm.

"Cholas is no good anyhow," blurted Andy. "You ain't robbin' nobody
when you buy a Chola outfit. Let's go!"

Montoya, who sat by the fire, coughed.

"'Course, I was meanin' some Cholas," said Andy.

The old herder smiled to himself. The boys amused him. He had been
young once--and very poor. And he had ridden range in his youthful
days. A mild fatalist, he knew that Pete would not stay long, and
Montoya was big enough not to begrudge the muchacho any happiness.

"I'm goin' over to town for a spell," explained Pete.

Montoya nodded.

"I'm comin' back," Pete added, a bit embarrassed.

"Bueno. I shall be here."

Pete, a bit flustered, did not quite catch the mild sarcasm, but he
breathed more freely when they were out of sight of camp. "He's sure a
white Mexican," he told Andy. "I kind o' hate to leave him, at that."

"You ain't left him yet," suggested Andy with the blunt candor of youth.

Pete pondered. Tucked under his arm were the two bobcat skins and the
coyote-hide. He would try to sell them to the storekeeper, Roth. All
told, he would then have about twenty dollars. That was quite a lot of
money--in Concho.

Roth was closing shop when they entered town. He greeted Pete
heartily, remarked at his growth and invited him in. Pete introduced
Andy, quite unnecessarily, for Andy knew the storekeeper. Pete gazed
at the familiar shelves, boxes and barrels, the new saddles and rigs,
and in fact at everything in the store save the showcase which
contained the cheap watches, trinkets, and six-shooters.

"I got a couple o' skins here," he said presently. "Mebby you could
buy 'em."

"Let's see 'em, Pete."

Pete unfolded the stiff skins on the counter.

"Why, I'll give you two dollars for the lot. The cat-skins are all
right. The coyote ain't worth