eturn ticket expired long before he got
back. I tell you, kid, she's _outlaw_. She's got the disposition of a
Comanche with a streak of lightnin' on a drunk throwed in. You keep off
that hoss!"

"Maybe," said Collie. "But I notice you put me to breakin' about all the
stock on this ranch that you can't handle yourself."

Which was true. Williams shaved and perspired in silence.

"Let's see," he said presently, emerging from the wash-basin. "When's
that barbecue comin' off?"

"To-morrow. As if you didn't know!"

"Sunday, eh? Well, you might as well get killed on a Sunday as any other
day. I suppose your askin' about that hoss means you are thinkin' of
ridin' her, eh?"

"I was thinkin' of it. They are putting her up as a chance for the man
that can. She has put three of their boys to the bad. Matt Gleason, the
Oro foreman, says he'll give her to any Moonstoner that can stay on her
two minutes."

"He said 'Moonstoner' particular?" queried Williams.

"He did. To me. I was over tryin' to buy her."

"You're plumb loco. So he said any _Moonstoner_ eh? Any Moonstoner. By
crip, I've a notion--Let's see, there's Miguel--he's too swift. Billy
Dime might make it if he didn't get too much red-eye in him first. Bud
ain't steady enough--and it wouldn't look right if I was the only rider
here to take a chance. I dunno."

"What you gaspin' about?" queried Collie.

"Nothin', kid. You can get hosses ready for all the ladies for to-morrow
mornin' at six sharp. Sabe? I got orders to send you over with 'em.
Mebby you're some proud now, eh? Well, don't fall off Apache pertendin'
you're so polite you can't spit."

"What you sore about, Brand?"

"I was thinkin' what a slashin' string of riders we got. Here a little
old ranch like the Oro says they'll give a hoss to any Moonstoner what
kin stay on him for two minutes. It's plumb sickenin'. Kids! Jest kids,
on this ranch."

"That so? Say, Brand, you ain't got rid of so much English talk at once
since I been here. You ought to talk more. You keep too quiet. Talking
sociable will help to take the wrinkles out of your neck."

"You talk so much you'll never live to get any."

"Say, Brand."

"Uhuh."

"Will you lend me the Chola spurs and that swell quirt old Miguel
plaited for you, and your Mexican bridle, just for to-morrow?"

"So that's what you been lovin' up to me for, eh?"

"Lovin' up to you, you darned old--darned old--_dude_, you."

"Hold on! You said it! Take the spu