he group. Andy
stopped long enough to roll and light a cigarette and then strolled
after him with apparent aimlessness, secretly curious over the summons.
He found Miguel in the stable waiting for him, and Miguel led the way,
rope in hand across the corral and into the little pasture where fed a
horse he meant to ride. He did not say anything until he had turned to
close the gate, and to make sure that they were alone and that their
departure had not carried to the Happy Family any betraying air of
significance.

"You remember when you blew in here, a few weeks or so ago?" the Native
Son asked abruptly, a twinkle in his fathomless eyes. "You put up a good
one on the boys, that time, you remember. Bluffed them into thinking I
was a hero in disguise, and that you'd seen me pull off a big stunt of
bull-fighting and bull-dogging down in Mexico. It was a fine josh. They
believe it yet."

Andy glanced at him perplexedly. "Yes--but when it turned out to be
true," he amended, "the josh was on me, I guess; I thought I was just
lying, when I wasn't. I've wondered a good deal about that. By
gracious, it makes a man feel funny to frame up a yarn out of his own
think-machine, and then find out he's been telling the truth all the
while. It's like a fellow handing out a twenty-four karat gold bar to a
rube by mistake, under the impression it only looks like one. Of course
they believe it! Only they don't know I just merely hit the truth by
accident."

The Native Son smiled his slow, amused smile, that somehow never failed
to be impressive. "That's the funny part of it," he drawled. "You
didn't. I just piled another little josh on top of yours, that's all. I
never throwed a bull in my life, except with my lariat. I'd heard a
good deal about you, and--well, I thought I'd see if I could go you one
better. And you put that Mexico yarn across so smooth and easy, I just
simply couldn't resist the temptation to make you think it was all
straight goods. Sabe?"

Andy Green did not say a word, but he looked exceedingly foolish.

"So I think we can both safely consider ourselves top-hands when it
comes to lying," the Native Son went on shamelessly. "And if you're
willing to go in with me on it and help put Dunk on the run--" He
glanced over his shoulder, saw that Happy Jack, on horseback, was coming
out to haze in the saddle bunch, and turned to stroll back as lazily as
he had come. He continued to speak smoothly and swiftly, in a voice
t