ckon they'd think that guy was loco--or a
heap mistaken in his man. But I'm seein' this thing through. I ain't
ridin' a hundred miles just to take a look at the man who's hirin' me.
It'll be a change. An' when I go back to the Lazy J----"

It was not the pony's fault. Neither was it Ferguson's. The pony was
experienced; behind his slant eyes was stored a world of horse-wisdom
that had pulled him and his rider through many tight places. And
Ferguson had ridden horses all his life; he would not have known what
to do without one.

But the pony stumbled. The cause was a prairie-dog hole, concealed
under a clump of matted mesquite. Ferguson lunged forward, caught at
the saddle horn, missed it, and pitched head-foremost out of the
saddle, turning completely over and alighting upon his feet. He stood
erect for an instant, but the momentum had been too great. He went
down, and when he tried to rise a twinge of pain in his right ankle
brought a grimace to his face. He arose and hopped over to a flat
rock, near where his pony now stood grazing as though nothing had
happened.

Drawing off his boot, Ferguson made a rapid examination of the ankle.
It was inflamed and painful, but not broken. He believed he could see
it swelling. He rubbed it, hoping to assuage the pain. The woolen
sock interfered with the rubbing, and he drew it off.

For a few minutes he worked with the ankle, but to little purpose. He
finally became convinced that it was a bad sprain, and he looked up,
scowling. The pony turned an inquiring eye upon him, and he grinned,
suddenly smitten with the humor of the situation.

"You ain't got no call to look so doggoned innocent about it," he said.
"If you'd been tendin' to your business, you wouldn't have stepped into
no damned gopher hole."

The pony moved slowly away, and he looked whimsically after it,
remarking: "Mebbe if I'd been tendin' to my business it wouldn't have
happened, either." He spoke again to the pony. "I reckon you know
that too, Mustard. You're some wise."

The animal was now at some little distance from the rock upon which he
was sitting. He arose, hobbling on one foot toward it, carrying the
discarded boot in his hand. He thought of riding with the foot bare.
At the Two Diamond he was sure to find some sort of liniment which,
with the help of a bandage, would materially assist nature in----

He was passing a filmy mesquite clump--the bare foot swinging wide.
There was