some--tradin'--when I was a kid."

Andy glanced at the boyish figure and smiled. "You're wastin' good
time with that outfit,"--and he gestured with his thumb toward the
sheep.

"Oh, I dunno. José Montoya ain't so slow--with a gun."

Andy White laughed. "Old Crux ain't a bad old scout--but you ain't a
Mexican. Anybody can see that!"

"Well, just for fun--suppose I was."

"It would be different," said Andy. "You're white, all right!"

"Meanin' my catchin' your cayuse. Well, anybody'd do that."

"They ain't nothin' to drink but belly-wash in this town," said Andy
boyishly. "But you come along down to the store an' I'll buy."

"I'll go you! I see you're ridin' for the Concho."

"Uh-huh, a year."

Pete walked beside this new companion and Pete was thinking hard.
"What's your name?" he queried suddenly.

"White--Andy White. What's yours?"

"Pete Annersley," he replied proudly.