eyed the suitcase and the saddle and the chaps, and then he looked at
Johnny.

"Too much song-bird stuff?" he asked, which showed how sensitive was the
finger Sudden kept on the pulse of his outfit.

"I've got to work for a living, but I don't have to work with that bunch
of idiots," Johnny stated with much dignity.

Sudden rubbed a gauntleted hand across the lower part of his face; and
that, I think, is why Johnny saw himself taken as seriously as his young
egotism demanded.

"Rather be by yourself, would you? Well, throw your baggage in the back
of the car. I want you to catch up a couple of horses and go on down to
Sinkhole. You won't be annoyed down there with anybody's foolishness but
your own, young man. You'll work for your living, all right! Got a gun? A
rifle? Well, there's one at the house you can take. There may not be any
Rolling R horses going across the line--but it'll be your business to
_know_ there aren't. If you see a greaser prowling around, put him on the
run. They're paying good money for horses in Mexico, remember. You're
down there to see they don't get 'em too cheap on this side. Do you get
that?"

"Yes, sir--you bet!"

"Oh. You do? Well, get in."

At the corral he turned again to Johnny. "Stop at the house when you're
ready. There's a pile of _Modern Mechanics_ you may as well take along.