enough to kill that hoss and the bunch of us--but he held her down and
bellied up to us like a real one. Looks like he had kind of a Injun
streak in him."

Bailey nodded. "Wish I had a job for the kid. He would make good.
He's been driftin' round the country with old man Montoya for a couple
of years. Old man Annersley picked him up down to Concho. The kid was
with a horse-trader. He would have been all right with Annersley, but
you boys know what happened. This ain't no orphan asylum, but--well,
anyhow--did you size up the rig he's sportin'?"

"Some rig."

"And he says he went broke to buy her."

"Some kid."

"Goin' to string him along?" queried another cowboy.

"Nope," replied Bailey. "The pup strung him plenty. Mebby we'll give
him a whirl at a real horse after dinner. He's itchin' to climb a real
one and show us, and likewise to break in that new rig."

"Or git busted," suggested one of the men.

"By his eye, I'd say he'll stick," said Bailey. "Don't you boys go to
raggin' him too strong about ridin', for I ain't aimin' to kill the
kid. If he can stick on Blue Smoke, I've a good mind to give him a
job. I told Andy to tell him there wa'n't no chanct up here--but the
kid comes to look-see for hisself. I kind o' like that."

"You 're gettin' soft in your haid, Bud," said a cowboy affectionately.

"Mebby, but I don't have to put cotton in my ears to keep my brains
in," Bailey retorted mildly.

The cowboy who had spoken was suffering from earache and had an ear
plugged with cotton.

Pete swaggered up and sat down. "Who's ridin' that blue out there?" he
queried, gesturing toward the corral.

"He's a pet," said Bailey. Nobody rides him."

"Uh-huh. Well, I reckon the man who tries 'll be one of ole Abraham's
pets right off soon after," commented Pete. "He don't look good to me."

"You sabe 'em?" queried Bailey and winked at a companion.

"Nope," replied Pete. "I can't tell a hoss from a hitchin'-rail, 'less
he kicks me."

"Well, Blue Smoke ain't a hitchin'-rail," asserted Bailey. "What do
you say if we go over and tell the missis we're starvin' to death?"

"Send Pete over," suggested a cowboy.

Bailey liked a joke. As he had said, things were dull, just then.
"Lope over and tell my missis we're settin' out here starvin' to
death," he suggested to Pete.

Pete strode to the house and entered, hat in hand. The foreman's wife,
a plump, cheery woman, liked nothing better than to jok