"You ain't left him yet," suggested Andy with the blunt candor of youth.

Pete pondered. Tucked under his arm were the two bobcat skins and the
coyote-hide. He would try to sell them to the storekeeper, Roth. All
told, he would then have about twenty dollars. That was quite a lot of
money--in Concho.

Roth was closing shop when they entered town. He greeted Pete
heartily, remarked at his growth and invited him in. Pete introduced
Andy, quite unnecessarily, for Andy knew the storekeeper. Pete gazed
at the familiar shelves, boxes and barrels, the new saddles and rigs,
and in fact at everything in the store save the showcase which
contained the cheap watches, trinkets, and six-shooters.

"I got a couple o' skins here," he said presently. "Mebby you could
buy 'em."

"Let's see 'em, Pete."

Pete unfolded the stiff skins on the counter.

"Why, I'll give you two dollars for the lot. The cat-skins are all
right. The coyote ain't worth much."

"All right. I--I'm needin' the money right now," stammered Pete--"or
I'd give 'em to you."

"How you making it?" queried Roth.

"Fine! But I was thinkin' o' makin' a change. Sheep is all right--but