Could he go to Concho? Montoya nodded. Would it be all right if he
made a visit to the Concho outfit over on the mesa? It would be all
right. This was too easy. Pete squirmed internally. If Montoya would
only ask why he wanted to go. Did Montoya think he could get another
boy to help with the sheep? The old herder, who had a quiet sense of
humor, said he didn't need another boy: that Pete did very well. Young
Pete felt, as he expressed it to himself, "jest plumb mean."
Metaphorically he had thrown his rope three times and missed each time.
This time he made a wider loop.

"What I'm gittin' at is, Roth over to Concho said last night if I was
to go over to Bailey--he's the fo'man of the Concho outfit--and ask him
for a job, I could mebby land one. Roth, he said he'd outfit me and
leave me to pay for it from my wages. Andy White, he's pluggin' for me
over to the ranch. I ain't said nothin' to you, for I wa'n't sure--but
Roth he says mebby I could git a job. I reckon I'm gettin' kind of
_old_ to herd sheep."

Montoya smiled. "Si; I am sixty years old."

"I know--but--doggone it! I want to ride a hoss and go somewhere!"

"I will pay you three dollars a week," said Montoya, and his eyes
twinkled. He was enjoying Pete's embarrassment.

"It ain't the money. You sure been square. It ain't that. I reckon I
jest got to go."

"Then it is that you go. I will find another to help. You have been a
good boy. You do not like the sheep--but the horses. I know that you