prepared in any way, and in his excitement he overshot the mark. He
caromed into Rowdy's one recalcitrant leg--it usually happens that
way--and Rowdy stepped on him. Pete was also not mentally prepared to
dismount at the moment, but he did so as Rowdy crashed down in a cloud
of dust. The pup, who imagined himself killed, shrieked shrilly and
ran as hard as he could to the distant stables to find out if it were
not so.

Pete picked up his hat. Rowdy scrambled up and shook himself. Pete
was mad. Over on the edge of the bunk-house veranda sat four or five
of the Concho boys. They rocked back and forth and slapped their legs
and shouted. It was a trying situation.

The foreman, Bailey, rose as Pete limped up. "We're livin' over here,"
said Bailey. "Did you want to see some one?"

Pete wet his lips. "The fo'man. I--I--jest rid over to see how you
was makin' it."

"Why, we 're doin' right fair. How you makin' it yourself?"

"I'm here," said Pete succinctly and without a smile.

"So we noticed," said the foreman mildly, too mildly, for one of the
punchers began to laugh, and the rest joined in.

"Wisht I had a hoss like that," said a cowboy. "Always did hate to
climb offen a hoss. I like to have 'em set down and kind o' let me
step off easy-like."