planation of his own presence there--that he had been over to
the T-Bar-T to see Houck about some of his stock that had strayed
through some "down-fence"--"She's all fenced now," he explained--and
had run into a bunch of wild turkeys, chased them to a rim-rock and had
managed to shoot one, but had had to climb down a canon to recover the
bird, which had set him back considerably on his home journey. "And
that there bird is hangin' right on my saddle now!" he concluded. "And
I ain't et since mornin'."

"Then we eat," asserted Pete. "You go git that turkey, and I'll do the
rest."

Wild turkey, spitted on a cedar limb and broiled over a wood fire, a
bannock or two with hot coffee in an empty bean-can (Pete insisted on
Andy using the one cup), tastes just a little better than anything else
in the world, especially if one has ridden far in the high country--and
most folk do, before they get the wild turkey.

It was three o'clock when they turned in, to share Pete's one blanket,
and then Andy was too full of Pete's adventures to sleep, asking an
occasional question which Pete answered, until Andy, suddenly recalling
that Pete had told him The Spider had left him his money, asked Pete if
he had packed all that dough with him, or banked it in El Paso. To
which Pete had replied drowsily, "Sure thing, Miss Gray." Whereupon
Andy straightway decided that he would wait till morning before asking
any further questions of an intimate nature.

Pete was strangely quiet the next morning, in fact almost taciturn, and
Andy noticed that he went into the saddle a bit stiffly. "That--where
you got hurt botherin' you, Pete?" he asked with real solicitude.

"Some." And realizing that he had scarcely spoken to his old chum
since they awakened, he asked him many questions about the ranch, and
the boys, as they drifted across the mesa and down the trail that led
to the Concho.

But it was not the twinge of his old wound that made Pete so silent.
He was suffering a disappointment. He had believed sincerely that what
he had been through, in the past six months especially, had changed
him--that he would have to have a mighty stern cause to pull a gun on a
man again; and at the first hint of danger he had been ready to kill.
He wondered if he would ever lose that hunted feeling that had brought
him to his feet and all but crooked his trigger-finger before he had
actually realized what had startled him. But one thing was
certain--Andy w