"

"Which is correct. Reckon we'll forgit about that rooster and start
fresh." The old man fumbled in his pocket and brought up a silver
dollar. "Here's your first week's wages, son. What you aim to do with
it?"

"Buy cartridges!" exclaimed Pete. "But I ain't got no gun."

"Well, we'll be goin' to town right soon. I'll git you a gun, and
mebby a scabbard so you can carry it on the saddle."

"Kin I ride that hoss I seen out there?" queried Pete.

"What about ridin' the hoss you sold me? From what you said, I reckon
they ain't no hoss can touch him, in this country."

Pete hesitated on the thin edge of committing himself, tottered and
almost fell, but managed to retain his balance. "Sure, he's a good
hoss! Got a little age on him, but that don't hurt none. I was
thinkin' mebby you'd like that other cayuse of yours broke right.
Looks to me like he needs some handlin' to make a first-class
saddle-hoss."

The old man smiled broadly. Pete, like a hungry mosquito, was hard to
catch.

"You kin ride him," said Annersley. "'Course, if he pitches you--"
And the old man chuckled.

"Pitch me? Say, pardner, I'm a ridin' son-of-a-gun from Powder River
and my middle name is 'stick.' I kin ride 'm comin' and goin'--crawl
'm on the run and bust 'm wide open every time they bit the dirt. Turn
me loose and hear me howl. Jest give me room and see me split the air!
You want to climb the fence when I 'm a-comin'!"

"Where did you git that little song?" queried Annersley.

"Why--why, that's how the fellas shoot her over to the round-up at
Magdalena and Flag. Reckon I been there!"

"Well, don't you bust ole Apache too hard, son. He's a mighty
forgivin' hoss--but he's got feelin's."

"Huh! You're a-joshin' me agin. I seen your whiskers kind o' wiggle.
You think I'm scared o' that hoss?"

"Just a leetle mite, son. Or you wouldn't 'a' sung that there
high-chin song. There's some good riders that talk lots. But the best
riders I ever seen, jest rode 'em--and said nothin'."

"Like when you set on my other pop, eh?"

"That's the idee."

Pete, used to a rough-and-tumble existence, was deeply impressed by the
old man's quiet outlook and gentle manner. While not altogether in
accord with Annersley's attitude in regard to profanity and chewing
tobacco--still, Young Pete felt that a man who could down the
horse-trader and sit on him and suffer no harm was somehow worth
listening to.

CHAPTER III

A