"It's this way, Pete--and
this here is plain outdoor talk, which you sabe. Mrs. Bailey and me
ain't exactly hatin' you, as you know. But we would hate to see you
get into trouble on account of Gary or any of the T-Bar-T boys. And
because you can shoot is a mighty good reason for you to go slow with
that gun. 'T ain't that I give two whoops and a holler what happens to
Gary. It's what might happen to you. I was raised right here in this
country and I know jest how those things go. You're workin' for the
Concho. What you do, the Concho's got to back up. I couldn't hold the
boys if Gary got you, or if you got Gary. They'd be hell a-poppin' all
over the range. Speakin' personal, I'm with you to the finish, for I
know how you feel about Pop Annersley. But you ain't growed up yet.
You got plenty time to think. If you are a-hankerin' for Gary's scalp,
when you git to be twenty-one, why, go to it. But you're a kid yet,
and a whole lot can happen in five or six years. Mebby somebody'll git
Gary afore then. I sure hope they do. But while you're worldly for
me--jest forget Gary. I ain't tellin' you you _got_ to. I'm talkin'
as your friend."

"I'll go you," said Pete slowly. "But if Steve Gary comes at me--"

"That's different. Let him talk--and you keep still. Keepin' still at
the right time has saved many a man's hide. Most folks talk too much."

CHAPTER XIV

THE KITTY-CAT

Pete and Bailey took off their boots just before they entered the
bunk-house. They lugged the defunct mountain lion in and laid it by
Bill Haskins's bunk.

Pete propped the lion's head up with one of Haskin's boots. The effect
was realistic enough. The lion lay stretched out in a most natural
way, apparently gazing languidly at the sleeping cow-puncher. This was
more or less accidental, as they dare not light the lamp for fear of
waking the men. Bailey stole softly to the door and across to the
house. Pete undressed and turned in, to dream of who knows what
ghostly lions prowling through the timberlands of the Blue Range. It
seemed but a few minutes when he heard the clatter of the pack-horse
bell that Mrs. Bailey used to call the men to breakfast. The chill
gray half-light of early morning discovered him with one cautious eye,
gazing across at Haskins, who still snored, despite the bell. "Oh,
Bill!" called Pete. Haskins's snore broke in two as he swallowed the
unlaunched half and sat up rubbing his eyes. He swu