were sore from the rib squeezing of Miller's powerful arms.

Byington walked out to the remuda with him. "How's the man-tamer this
glad mo'nin'?" he asked of Dave.

"Fine and dandy, old lizard."

"You sure got the deadwood on him when yore spurs got into action. A
man's like a watermelon. You cayn't tell how good he is till you thump
him. Miller is right biggity, and they say he's sudden death with a gun.
But when it come down to cases he hadn't the guts to go through and stand
the gaff."

"He's been livin' soft too long, don't you reckon?"

"No, sir. He just didn't have the sand in his craw to hang on and finish
you off whilst you was rippin' up his laigs."

Dave roped his mount and rode out to meet Chiquito. The pinto was an
aristocrat in his way. He preferred to choose his company, was a little
disdainful of the cowpony that had no accomplishments. Usually he grazed
a short distance from the remuda, together with one of Bob Hart's string.
The two ponies had been brought up in the same bunch.

This morning Dave's whistle brought no nicker of joy, no thud of hoofs
galloping out of the darkness to him. He rode deeper into the desert. No
answer came to his calls. At a canter he cut across the plain to the
wrangler. That young man had seen nothing of Chiquito since the evening
before, but this was not at all unusual.