"And he can take his medicine," asserted another cowboy. "He was mad
enough to kill that hoss and the bunch of us--but he held her down and
bellied up to us like a real one. Looks like he had kind of a Injun
streak in him."

Bailey nodded. "Wish I had a job for the kid. He would make good.
He's been driftin' round the country with old man Montoya for a couple
of years. Old man Annersley picked him up down to Concho. The kid was
with a horse-trader. He would have been all right with Annersley, but
you boys know what happened. This ain't no orphan asylum, but--well,
anyhow--did you size up the rig he's sportin'?"

"Some rig."

"And he says he went broke to buy her."

"Some kid."

"Goin' to string him along?" queried another cowboy.

"Nope," replied Bailey. "The pup strung him plenty. Mebby we'll give
him a whirl at a real horse after dinner. He's itchin' to climb a real
one and show us, and likewise to break in that new rig."

"Or git busted," suggested one of the men.

"By his eye, I'd say he'll stick," said Bailey. "Don't you boys go to
raggin' him too strong about ridin', for I ain't aimin' to kill the
kid. If he can stick on Blue Smoke, I've a good mind to give him a