"Certainly; I may go as far as Saltonstall's. If I do, you needn't
expect me back till morning."

"Buckeye's mighty fresh to-night, boss. Regularly bucked his
saddle clean off an hour ago, and there ain't a man dare exercise
him."

"I'll bet he don't buck his saddle off with me on it," said the
Doctor, grimly. "Bring him along."

The man turned to go. "You found the tramp pow'ful lazy, didn't
ye?"

"I found a heap more in him than in some that call themselves
smart," said Dr. West, unconsciously setting up an irritable
defense of the absent one. "Hurry up that horse!"

The foreman vanished. The Doctor put on a pair of leather
leggings, large silver spurs, and a broad soft-brimmed hat, but
made no other change in his usual half-professional conventional
garb. He then went to the window and glanced in the direction of
the highway. Now that his son was gone, he felt a faint regret
that he had not prolonged the interview. Certain peculiarities in
his manner, certain suggestions of expression in his face, speech,
and gesture, came back to him now with unsatisfied curiosity. "No
matter," he said to himself; "he'll turn up soon again--as soon as
I want him, if not sooner. He thinks he's got a mighty soft thing
here, and he isn't going to let it go. And there's that same d--d
sullen dirty pride of his mother, for all he doesn't cotton to her.
Wonder I didn't recognize it at first. And hoarding up that five