ears with trouble!" Pink pointed out amusedly. "He'd fool
anybody that didn't know him, all right."

"And he fools the fellows that do know him, oftener than
anybody else," added the Native Son negligently. "You're
fooled right now if you think that's all acting. That HOMBRE
has got something on his mind."

"Well, by golly, it ain't dry-farmers," Slim asserted boldly.

"If you fellows wouldn't say it was a frame-up between us
two, I'd go after him and find out. But . . ."

"But as it stands, we'd believe Andy Green a whole lot
quicker'n what we would you," supplemented Big Medicine
loudly. "You're dead right there."

"What was it he said about it?" Weary wanted to know. "I
wasn't paying much attention, with the Kid yelling his head
off and old Silver gaping like a sick turkey, and all. What
was it about them dryfarmers?"

"He said," piped Pink, "that he'd got next to a scheme to
bring a big bunch of dry-farmers in on this bench up here,
with stock that they'd turn loose on the range. That's what
he said. He claims the agent wanted him to go in on it."

"Mamma!" Weary held a match poised midway between his thigh
and his cigarette while he stared at Pink. "That would be
some mixup--if it was to happen." His sunny blue eyes--that