was finally
borne away on the reiterant, warm breezes of spring. Mrs. Bailey was
the proud and happy possessor of a lion-skin rug--Pete's Christmas
present to her--proud of the pelt itself and happy because Young Pete
had foregone the bounty that he might make the present, which was
significant of his real affection. Coats and heavy overshoes were
discarded. Birds sang among sprouting aspen twigs, and lean,
mangy-looking coyotes lay on the distant hillsides soaking in the
warmth. Gaunt cattle lowed in the hollows and spring calves staggered
about, gazing at this new world with round, staring eyes.

Houck, the T-Bar-T foreman, had discussed with Bailey the advisability
of defining a line between the two big ranches. They came to an
agreement and both stated that they would send men to roughly survey
the line, fix upon landmarks, and make them known to the riders of both
outfits. Bailey, who had to ride from Concho to the railroad to meet a
Kansas City commission man, sent word back to the Concho to have two
men ride over to Annersley's old homestead the following day. Mrs.
Bailey immediately commissioned Young Pete and Andy to ride over to the
homestead, thinking that Pete was a particularly good choice as he knew
the country thereabouts. She cautioned the boys to behave
themselves--she always did when Andy and Pete set out together--and
giving them a comfortable package of lunch, she turned to her household
work.

"I'm takin' Blue Smoke," stated Pete as Andy packed his saddle to the
corral.

"You're takin' chances then," observed Andy.

"Oh, I got him so he knows which way is north," asserted Pete. "I been
gittin' acquainted with that cayuse, Chico."

"Yes. I seen you settin' on the ground watchin' him buck your saddle
off a couple of times," snorted Andy.

"Well, seein' as this here pasear is straight riding I reckon I'll
crawl him and turn him loose. He needs exercisin'."

"Well, I don't," asserted Andy. "'Course, some folks has always got to
be showin' off. If Bailey was here you wouldn't be ridin' that hoss."

"'And up and down and round and 'cross, that top-boss done his best!'"
sang Pete as he lugged his saddle into the corral.

"'All hell can't glue you to that hoss when he gits headed west,'" Andy
misquoted for the occasion.

"You jest swing that gate open when I git aboard," suggested Pete.
"I'm the Ridin' Kid from Powder River."

Andy laughed.

"The Ridin' Kid from Powder River