and silent.

Next morning, after the sheep were out, Pete picked up a pack-rope and
amused himself by flipping the loop on the burros, the clumps of brush,
stubs, and limbs, keeping at it until the old herder noticed and
nodded. "He is thinking of the cattle," soliloquized Montoya. "I will
have to get a new boy some day. But he will speak, and then I shall
know."

While Pete practiced with the rope he was figuring how long it would
take him to save exactly eighteen dollars and a half, for that was the
price of a Colt's gun such as he had taken from the store at Concho.
Why he should think of saving the money for a gun is not quite clear.
He already had one. Possibly because they were drifting back toward
the town of Concho, Pete wished to be prepared in case Roth asked him
about the gun. Pete had eleven dollars pinned in the watch-pocket of
his overalls. In three weeks, at most, they would drive past Concho.
He would then have seventeen dollars. Among his personal effects he
had two bobcat skins and a coyote-hide. Perhaps he could sell them for
a dollar or two. How often did Andy White ride the Largo Cañon? The
Concho cattle grazed to the east. Perhaps White had forgotten his
promise to ride over some evening. Pete swung his loop and roped a
clump of brush. "I'll sure forefoot you, you doggone longhorn!" he
said. "I'll git my iron on you, you maverick! I'm the Ridin' Kid from
Powder River, and I ride 'em straight up an' comin'." So he romanced,
his feet on the ground, but his heart with the bawling herd and the
charging ponies. "Like to rope a lion," he told himself as he swung
his rope again. "Same as High-Chin Bob." Just then one of the dogs,
attracted by Pete's unusual behavior, trotted up.