ain't no good, that's all."

Young Pete pondered, watching Annersley's grave, bearded face.
Suddenly he brightened. "I know! Nobody kin tell when you're joshin'
'em, 'cause your whiskers hides it. Guess I'll grow some whiskers and
then I kin fool everybody."

Old man Annersley chuckled, and spoke to the horses. Young Pete,
happier than he had ever been, wondered if this good luck would
last--if it were real, or just a dream that would vanish, leaving him
shivering in his tattered blanket, and the horse-trader telling him to
get up and rustle wood for the morning fire.

The buckboard topped the rise and leveled to the tree-girdled mesa.
Young Pete stared. This was the most beautiful spot he had ever seen.
Ringed round by a great forest of spruce, the Blue Mesa lay shimmering
in the sunset like an emerald lake, beneath a cloudless sky tinged with
crimson, gold, and amethyst. Across the mesa stood a cabin, the only
dwelling in that silent expanse. And this was to be his home, and the
big man beside him, gently urging the horse, was his partner. He had
said so. Surely the great adventure had begun.

Annersley glanced down. Young Pete's hand was clutched in the old
man's coat-sleeve, but the boy was gazing ahead, his bright black eyes
filled with the wonder of new fortunes and a real home. Annersley
blinked and spoke sharply to the horse, although that good animal
needed no urging as he plodded sturdily toward the cabin.