to cry over it.
This morning, before you came to the Point, I gave Welborn a big going
over about his working all the time. And he never sassed back. He
should have kicked me out. Instead of that, he agreed with me. Him, a
big, strong man that had made a gangster eat his gun and ordered the
judge and sheriff what to do! The idea! Him letting a midget order him
around! What we need here is a good cusser-outer."

"You're too late," said Landy dryly. "You've missed yer appointment by
about forty years. We had a party up state wunst, that filled all yer
requirements. Hit was a woman. She'd fuss at the sun fer comin' up, an
cuss hit fer goin' down. She buried three husbands en was deserted by
several more. At her death, en in honor of the happy event, they named
a little crick after her. They called hit Crazy Woman's Crick.... Hi,
Potter," Landy called, as they approached the stables of the B-line
ranch. "Git that gate opened and throw out yer welcome rug."

"Troubles never come single, they come in bunches," grumbled Potter as
he complied. "Two hosses go lame this mornin', en Jim Finch, the
grazing commissioner, comes from up on the Mad Trapper Fork a-callin'
on us fer help to round up some of old Hull Barrow's misfits of horns,
hoofs, and hides, en to add further miseries, here you arrive on the
scene. Why, Peaches gave out strict orders, that if old Turkeyneck
came prowlin' around, to say, that she wasn't at home at all en to
tell the little gent to ride right into the house."

"Who said that?" demanded Davy, with alacrity.

"Why, Peaches, Miss Adine, she said if old Landy--"

"Ye, Ho!" yelled Davy excitedly. "This colt is named. That's it!
Peaches! Why didn't we think of that before, Landy?" Davy patted the
colt's neck affectionately. "That's your name, old boy, Peaches!"

Hearing the outcry, Adine Lough came out of the house, and down the
graveled way. "Good morning," she called. "I was expecting you. My,
but he's handsome," she exclaimed, examining the little horse that
arched his neck in approval of the inspection. "You look like a
gallant cavalier out of the old picture books."

"We've just named him," said Davy proudly. "We named him after you.
His name is Peaches."

"Ah, pshaw," said the girl, laughing and blushing. "That's just a
nickname that these men out here call me behind my back, of course,
and the poor colt deserves a better fate. But come in, both of you, I
have good news." The girl led the way in