k I'll go on down to the Harts'," he said, "so as to be that much
closer to the stream. Daylight is going to find me whipping the riffles,
Peter. You won't come along? You better. Plenty of--ah--snake medicine,"
he hinted, chuckling so that the whole, deep chest of him vibrated. "No?
Well, you can let me have a horse, I suppose--that cow-backed sorrel
will do--he's gentle, I know. I think I'll go out and beg an invitation
from that Hart boy--never can remember those kids by name--Gene, is it,
or Jack?"

He went out upon the porch, laid a hand upon Jack's shoulder, and beamed
down upon him with what would have passed easily for real affection
while he announced that he was going to beg supper and a bed at the
ranch, and wanted to know, as a solicitous after-thought, if Jack's
mother had company, or anything that would make his presence a burden.

"Nobody's there--and, if there was, it wouldn't matter," Jack assured
him carelessly. "Go on down, if you want to. It'll be all right with
mother."

"One thing I like about fishing down here," chuckled Baumberger, his fat
fingers still resting lightly upon Jack's shoulder, "is the pleasure of
eating my fish at your house. There ain't another man, woman, or child
in all Idaho can fry trout like your mother. You needn't tell her I
said so--but it's a fact, just the same. She sure is a genius with the
frying-pan, my boy."

He turned and called in to Pete, to know if he might have the sorrel
saddled right away. Since Pete looked upon Baumberger with something of
the awed admiration which he would bestow upon the President, he felt
convinced that his horses were to be congratulated that any one of them
found favor in his eyes.

Pete, therefore, came as near to roaring at Saunders as his good nature
and his laziness would permit, and waited in the doorway until Saunders
had, with visible reluctance, laid down his book and started toward the
stable.

"Needn't bother to bring the horse down here, my man," Baumberger called
after him. "I'll get him at the stable and start from there. Well, wish
me luck, Pete--and say! I'll expect you to make a day of it with me
Sunday. No excuses, now. I'm going to stay over that long, anyhow.
Promised myself three good days--maybe more. A man's got to break away
from his work once in a while. If I didn't, life wouldn't be worth
living. I'm willing to grind--but I've got to have my playtime, too.
Say, I want you to try this rod of mine Sunday. You