"Sorry," said Pete, "I'm pushed. Got to go on to-night. Want to take that
train at seven-thirty in the morning, and a small sleep for myself before
that. Maybe I'll stop over as I come back, though. Fine feed you got
here. Makes a jim-darter of a horse camp."

"Yes, 'tis. We aim to keep the cattle shoved off so we can save the grass
for the saddle ponies."

"Must have quite a bunch?"

"'Bout two hundred. Well, sorry you can't stay with us. We was fixin' to
round up what cows had drifted in and give 'em a push back to the main
range this afternoon. But they'll keep. We'll stick round camp; and you
stay as late as you can, stranger, and we'll stir up something. I'll tell
you what, Bill--we'll pull off that shootin' match you was blowin'
about." The tall man favored Johnson with a confidential wink. "Bill, he
allows he can shoot right peart. Bill's from California."

Bill, the short man, produced a gray-and-yellow tobacco sack and
extracted a greasy ten-dollar greenback, which he placed on the box
table at Johnson's elbow.

"Cover that, durn you! You hold stakes, stranger. I'll show him
California. Humph! Dam' wall-eyed Tejano!"

"I'm a Texan myself," twinkled Johnson.

"What if you are? You ain't wall-eyed, be you? And you ain't been makin'
no cracks at California--not to me. But this here Jim--look at the
white-eyed, tow-headed grinnin' scoundrel, will you?--Say, are you goin'