"Yes, we had quite a little pow-wow."

"You sure didn't let him git holt of nothin'!"

"Yes. He's about to bust with the information he gathered. An' say,
he might of seen them mares an' passed 'em up. He ain't huntin' no
brood mares, he's after twenty head of young saddle stock--forgot to
mention there was any one with him. Said it was easy to run
three-year-olds off their own range single handed if you savvied
horses. Called Mister Kester 'Old Pete' an' told of an orgy they had
mutual in the Long Horn."

Curt burst out laughing: "Can you beat it?"

"I suppose they'll have Red Rock Coulee all mussed up," reflected the
Texan, with a grin.

"You wait 'til I tell the boys."

"Don't you. They'd hurt him. He's a-whirlin' a bigger loop than he
can throw, the way it is."

Curt fumbled in his slicker and produced a flask which he tendered.

Tex shook his head: "No thanks, I ain't drinkin'."

"You ain't _what_?"

"No, I'm off of it"; he dismounted and tightened his cinch, and the
other followed his example.