"Pull a strap off of him," said Pete warmly. "That's a damn fine boy, and
you want to start him right. That's half the battle."

Pete returned to the fire for a final cup of coffee.

"Young man," he said, "would you know that brown horse Stan was ridin'
when you met up with him?"

"Awguan? Sure! I'd know him in hell!" said Bobby.

"Well, Stan turned that horse loose to rustle for himself, of course. Do
you reckon you could stir round and find him for me--if your dad can
spare you? I want to go to the railroad to-night, and Awguan, he's fresh.
My horses are tired."

"If you don't want that horse," said Bobby, "don't send me after him."

"Now, Jack," said Pete after Bobby had departed on the search for Awguan,
"you go away and don't pester me. I want to think."

To the processes of thought, for the space of four pipes, he gave aid by
hugging his knees, as if he had called them in consultation. Then he
summoned Jackson Carr.

"How're you fixed for work, Jack?"

"None. I reckon to get plenty, though, when I get my teams fitted up.
They're jaded from a lumber job."