It was the stranger now who smiled. But it was a smile that caused the
cowboy to become on the instant kindly considerate. Perhaps he
remembered one of the Dean's favorite sayings: "Keep your eye on the man
who laughs when he's hurt."

"Good evening!" said the stranger doubtfully, but with a hint of
conscious superiority in his manner.

"Howdy!" returned the cowboy heartily, and in his deep voice was the
kindliness that made him so loved by all who knew him. "Been having some
trouble?"

"If I have, it is my own, sir," retorted the other coldly.

"Sure," returned the horseman gently, "and you're welcome to it. Every
man has all he needs of his own, I reckon. But I didn't mean it that
way; I meant your horse."

The stranger looked at him questioningly. "Beg pardon?" he said.

"What?"

"I do not understand."

"Your horse--where is your horse?"

"Oh, yes! Certainly--of course--my horse--how stupid of me!" The tone of
the man's answer was one of half apology, and he was smiling whimsically
now as if at his own predicament, as he continued. "I have no horse.
Really, you know, I wouldn't know what to do with one if I had it."