a mescal jag. Come on, I'll
run you to the house!"

Throwing his weight forward he jumped his big horse down the rocky
trail and went thundering across the flat, whooping and laughing and
swinging under mesquite trees as if his whole heart was in the race.
Catching the contagion Hardy's sorrel dashed madly after him, and the
moment they struck the open he went by like a shot, over-running the
goal and dancing around the low adobe house like a circus horse.

"By Joe," exclaimed Creede as he came up, "that _caballo_ of yours can
run some. I'm goin' to make a little easy money off of Bill Lightfoot
when he comes in. He's been blowin' about that gray of his for two
years now and I'll match you ag'inst him for a yearlin'. And don't you
forgit, boy, we're going after that black stallion up on Bronco Mesa
just as soon as the _roder_ is over."

His face was all aglow with friendliness and enthusiasm now, but as
they started toward the house, after turning their horses into the
corral, he suddenly stopped short in the trail.

"Gee," he said, "I wonder what's keepin' Tom? Here Tom! Heere Tom!
Pussy, pussy, pussy!" He listened, and called again. "I hope the
coyotes ain't caught him while I was gone," he said at length. "They
treed him a few times last year, but he just stayed up there and
yelled until I came--spoiled his voice callin' so long, but you bet he
can purr, all right."

He listened once more, long and anxiously, then his face lit up
suddenly.

"Hear that?" he asked, motioning toward the bluff, and while Hardy was
straining his ears a stunted black cat with a crook in his tail came
into view, racing in wildly from the great pile of fallen bowlders
that lay at the base of the cliff, and yowling in a hoarse, despairing
voice, like a condemned kitten in a sack.

"Hello, Tommy, Tommy, Tommy!" cried Creede, and as the cat stopped
abruptly, blinking warily at Hardy, he strode forward and gathered it
gently into his arms. "Well, you poor little devil," he exclaimed,
stroking its rough coat tenderly, "you're all chawed up again! Did
them dam' coyotes try to git you while I was gone?" And with many
profane words of endearment he hugged it against his breast,
unashamed.

"There's the gamiest cat in Arizona," he said, bringing him over to
Hardy with conscious pride. "Whoa, kitten, he won't hurt you. Dogged
if he won't tackle a rattlesnake, and kill 'im, too. I used to be
afraid to git out of bed at night without puttin'