pted, "mud to his eyebrows, just
about. And he knew darned well we headed him in there deliberate. And
when I remarks it's soft going, he says: 'It is, kinda,'--just like
that." Pink managed to imitate the languid tone of Miguel very well.
"Not another word outa him. Didn't even make him mad! He--"

"Tell him about the parrots, Slim," Cal suggested soberly. But Slim only
turned purple at the memory, and swore.

"Old Patsy sure has got it in for him," Happy Jack observed. "He asked
Patsy if he ever had enchiladas. Patsy won't speak to him no more. He
claims Mig-u-ell insulted him. He told Mig-u-ell--"

"Enchiladas are sure fine eating," said Andy. "I took to 'em like a
she-bear to honey, down in New Mexico this winter. Your Native Son is
solid there, all right."

"Aw, gwan! He ain't solid nowhere but in the head. Maybe you'll love him
to death when yuh see him--chances is you will, if you've took to eatin'
dago grub."

Andy patted Happy Jack reassuringly on the shoulder. "Don't get
excited," he soothed. "I'll put it all over the gentleman, just to show
my heart's in the right place. Just this once, though; I've reformed.
And I've got to have time to size him up. Where do you keep him when he
ain't in the show window?" He swung into step with Pink. "I'll tell you
the truth," he confided engagingly. "Any man that'll wear chaps like
he's got--even leaving out the extra finish you fellows have given
'em--had ought to be taught a lesson he'll remember. He sure must be a
tough proposition, if the whole bunch of yuh have had to give him up. By
gracious--"

"We haven't tried," Pink defended. "It kinda looked to us as if he was
aiming to make us guy him; so we didn't. We've left him strictly alone.
To-day"--he glanced over his shoulder to where the becurled chaps swung
comically from the willow branch--"to-day's the first time anybody's
made a move. Unless," he added, as an afterthought, "you count yesterday
in the 'doby patch--and even then we didn't tell him to ride into it; we
just let him do it."

"And kinda herded him over towards it," Cal amended slyly.

"Can he ride?" asked Andy, going straight to the main point, in the mind
of a cowpuncher.

"W-e-ell-he hasn't been piled, so far. But then," Pink qualified
hastily, "he hasn't topped anything worse than Crow-hop. He ain't hard
to ride. Happy Jack could--"

"Aw, I'm gittin' good and sick of' hearin' that there tune," Happy
growled indignantly. "Why don't you poi