er. He had chosen the best of
everything that Roth had in stock. A little figuring convinced him
that he would have to work several months before his outfit was paid
for. "If I git a job I'll give you an order for my wages," he told
Roth.

"That's all right, Pete; I ain't worryin'."

"Well--I be, some," said Pete. "Lemme see--fifty for the saddle, seven
for the bridle---and she's some bridle!--and eighteen for the
chaps--fifteen for the boots--that's ninety dollars. Gee whizz! Then
there's four for that blanket and ten for them spurs. That's a hundred
and four. 'Course I _could_ git along without a new lid. Rope is
three-fifty, and lid is ten. One hundred and seventeen dollars for
four bits. Guess I'll make it a hundred and twenty. No use botherin'
about small change. Gimme that pair of gloves."

Roth had no hesitation in outfitting Pete. The Concho cattlemen traded
at his store. He had extended credit to many a rider whom he trusted
less than he did Pete. Moreover, he was fond of the boy and wanted to
see him placed where he could better himself. "I've got you on the
books for a hundred and twenty," he told Pete, and Pete felt very proud
and important. "Now, if I could borrow a hoss for a spell, I'd jest
fork him and ride over to see Bailey," he asserted. "I sure can't pack
this outfit over there."

Roth grinned. "Well, we might as well let the tail go with the hide.
There's old Rowdy. He ain't much of a horse, but he's got three good
legs yet. He starched a little forward, but he'll make the trip over
and back. You can take him."

"Honest?"

"Go ahead."

Pete tingled with joyful anticipation as he strode from the store, his
new rope in his hand. He would rope that cayuse and just about burn
the ground for the Concho! Maybe he wouldn't make young Andy White sit
up! The Ridin' Kid from Powder River was walking on air when--

"Thought you was goin' over to see Montoya!" he challenged as he saw
the Mexican youth, whom he had tentatively hired, sitting placidly on
the store veranda, employed solely in gazing at the road as though it
were a most interesting spectacle. "Oh, manana," drawled the Mexican.

"Manana, nothin'!" volleyed Pete. "You're goin' now! Git a-movin'--if
you have to take your hands and lift your doggone feet off the ground.
Git a-goin'!"

"Oh, maybe I go manana."

"You're dreamin', hombre." Pete was desperate. Again he saw his
chance of an immediate job go glimm