it. Oh, yes! Mose told me if I see you
to tell you young Mitchell left some money in the safe for you."

"Ya-as," said Pete. "Here comes your _caballada_. Likely looking horses,
Jack."

"A leetle thin," said Carr.

He took six nose-bags, already filled, and fed his wagon stock. Bobby
pulled the saddle from the Nan-na pony, tied him to a bush, and gave
him breakfast from his own small _morral_. Then he sidled toward the
fire.

"Bobby, come over here," said Bobby's father. "This is your stepuncle
Pete."

Bobby complied. He gave Pete a small grimy hand and looked him over
thoughtfully from tip to tip, opening his blue eyes to their widest for
that purpose, under their long black lashes.

"You Stan Mitchell's pardner?"

"I am that."

"You goin' to break him out o' the pen?"

"Surest thing you know!" said Pete.

"That's good!" He relaxed his grip on Pete's hand and addressed himself
to breakfast. "I like Stan," he announced, with his head in the
chuck-box.

Pete used the opportunity to exchange a look with Bobby's father.

Bobby emerged from the chuck-box and resumed the topic of Stanley
Mitchell.

"He'll make a hand after he's been here a spell--Stan will," he stated
gravely.

"Oh, you know him, then?"

"I was with him the evenin' before the big doin's. He didn't steal no
money!"

"What makes you think so?"

"Easy! He's got brains, hain't he? I rode with him maybe a mile, but I
could see that. Well! If he'd stole that money, they wouldn't 'a' found
it yet. Them fellows make me tired!"

Pete made a pretext of thirst and brought a bucket for water from the
spring, crooking a finger at Jackson Carr to follow. Carr found him
seated at the spring, shaking with laughter.

"Jack, he's all there--your boy! Couldn't any judge size it up better."

"Frame-up, then?"

"Sure! That part's all right."

"I see you wasn't much taken aback."

"No. We was expectin' something like that and had discounted it. I'm just
as well pleased Stan's in jail just now, and I'm goin' to leave him there
a spell. Safer there. You remember old Hank Bergman?"

Carr nodded.

"Well, Hank's the sheriff here--and he'll give us a square deal. Now I'm
goin' back to interview that boy of yours some more. I reckon you're
right proud of that kid, Jack."

"Yes; I am. Bobby's a pretty good boy most ways. But he swears something
dreadful."

"Pull a strap off of him," said Pete warmly. "That's a damn fine boy, and
you want to star