e spring and wash," he suggested to Andy. "I ain't no dude,
but I kind o' like to wash before I eat."

"Here, too," said Andy. "Mebby we can locate the horses on the way."

When they returned to the cabin, Gary and Cotton were eating breakfast.
Pete flung a pair of broken hobbles on the floor. "Somebody's cayuse
got rid of these," he stated casually. He knew that they had been on
Gary's horse, as he had seen Gary hobble him. Pete turned and strode
out. Andy was unwrapping their lunch. Presently Gary and Cotton
appeared and picked up their ropes. Andy White, who had seen his own
easily caught pony, graciously offered the use of it in hunting the
strayed horse, but Gary declined the offer gruffly.

"He's so doggone mean his face hurts him," stated Pete, as Gary and
Cotton set off together.

"We'll lose some time if his hoss has lit out for home," said Andy.

"Gary's doin' all he kin to make a job of it," declared Pete. "But I
don't wait for him. Soon's we finish eatin' I'm goin' to locate Blue
Smoke and git to work. We kin run that line without any help from
them. Let 'em walk till they're tired."

"And what do you think of a couple of punchers--_punchers_, mind
you--that sit down and eat bacon and drink coffee and don't as much as
say 'come in'?"

"I don't waste time thinkin' about such, Andy. You finish up the grub.
I got all I want."

"Shucks! This ain't all. We ain't touched the grub in your
saddle-pockets yet. Ma Bailey sure fixed us up right."

"That'll do for noon," said Pete. "I'll run your hoss in, when I git
Blue Smoke. Your hoss'll follow, anyway."

"Jest a minute till I git my rope."

"Nope, you stay here. That Blue Smoke hoss knows me. If he spots two
of us comin' he's like to git excited and mebby bust his hobbles and
light out. I'll ketch him all right."

"Jest as you say, Pete."

The sun was warming the air and it was pleasant to sit and watch the
light clouds trail along the far horizon. Andy leaned back against the
cedar and rolled a cigarette. He grinned as he recalled how Pete had
called Gary at every turn, and yet had given the other no chance to
find excuse for a quarrel. Pete was certainly "a cool hand--for a
kid." White, several years Pete's senior, always thought of him as not
much more than a boy.

Meanwhile Pete, who knew every foot of ground on the homestead, trailed
through the scrub toward the spring. Down an occasional opening he
could see the dist