f like a shot.

He humored her until he saw that her mount was getting unmanageable,
when he quietly overtook her and closed her pony's nostrils with his
hand, the operation having a most gratifying effect.

"Joe hadn't oughter let yu had this cayuse," he said.

"Why, how do you know of whom I procured it?" She asked. "By th' brand:
it's a O-Bar-O, canceled, with J. H. over it. He buys all of his cayuses
from th' O-Bar-O."

She found out his name, and, after an interval of silence, she turned to
him with eyes full of inquiry: "What is that thorny shrub just ahead?"
She asked.

"That's mesquite," he replied eagerly.

"Tell me all about it," she commanded.

"Why, there ain't much to tell," he replied, "only it's a valuable tree
out here. Th' Apaches use it a whole lot of ways. They get honey from
th' blossoms an' glue an' gum, an' they use th' bark for tannin' hide.
Th' dried pods an' leaves are used to feed their cattle, an' th' wood
makes corrals to keep 'em in. They use th' wood for making other things,
too, an' it is of two colors. Th' sap makes a dye what won't wash out,
an' th' beans make a bread what won't sour or get hard. Then it makes a
barrier that shore is a dandy-coyotes an' men can't get through it, an'
it protects a whole lot of birds an' things. Th' snakes hate it like
poison, for th' thorns get under their scales an' whoops things up for
'em. It keeps th' sand from shiftin', too. Down South where there is
plenty of water, it often grows forty feet high, but up here it squats
close to th' ground so it can save th' moisture. In th' night th'
temperature sometimes falls thirty degrees, an' that helps it, too."

"How can it live without water?" She asked.

"It gets all th' water it wants," he replied, smiling. "Th' tap roots
go straight down 'til they find it, sometimes fifty feet. That's why it
don't shrivel up in th' sun. Then there are a lot of little roots right
under it an' they protects th' tap roots. Th' shade it gives is th'
coolest out here, for th' leaves turn with th' wind an' lets th' breeze
through-they're hung on little stems."

"How splendid!" she exclaimed. "Oh! Look there!" she cried, pointing
ahead of them. A chaparral cock strutted from its decapitated enemy, a
rattlesnake, and disappeared in the chaparral.

Hopalong laughed: "Mr. Scissors-bill Road-runner has great fun with
snakes. He runs along th' sand-an' he can run, too--an' sees a snake
takin' a siesta. Snip! goes his bil