rice to two
hundred and fifty.

"I'm through," said the liveryman.

"Sold to--name, please--sold to Doctor John Andover for two hundred and
fifty dollars," said the auctioneer. Then, after a facetious
dissertation on thoroughbreds as against cow-ponies, Blue Smoke was led
out. Pete's face went red. Then he paled. He had not forgotten that
Blue Smoke was to be sold, but he had taken it for granted that he
would be allowed to reclaim him. Pete stepped over to the sheriff and
was about to enter a protest--offer to pay the board-bill against Blue
Smoke, when the bidding began with an offer of twenty-five dollars.
This was quickly run up to seventy-five when Pete promptly bid one
hundred, which was a fair auction price, although every man there knew
that Blue Smoke was worth more.

"I'm bid one hundred twenty-five," cried the auctioneer, as a young,
bow-legged cowboy raised Pete's bid.

"One-fifty," said Pete without hesitation.

The sheriff glanced at Pete, wondering if he would borrow the money
from Andover to make good his bid. But Pete was watching the
auctioneer's gavel--which happened to be a short piece of rubber
garden-hose. "Third and last chance!" said the auctioneer. "Nobody
want that pony as a present? All right--goin', I say! Goin', I say
_ag'in_! Gone! B' Gosh! at one hundred an' fifty dollars, to that
young gent over there that looks like he could ride him. What's the
name?"

"Pete Annersley."

Several in the crowd turned and gazed curiously at Pete. But Pete's
eyes were upon Blue Smoke--his horse--the horse that had carried him
faithfully so many desert miles--a cow-pony that could "follow a
mountain trail all day and finish, a-steppin' high."

"Much obliged for your advice about the thoroughbred," said Andover as
he stepped close to Pete. "Is that the pony you used to ride?"

"He sure is. Say, Doc, I got the money to pay for him, but would you
mind writin' out a check. I ain't wise to this bankin' business yet."

"Why--no. I'll do that. I--er--of course--I'm a little short myself.
New car--and this horse for my daughter. But I think I can manage.
You want to borrow a hundred and fifty?"

"Say, Doc, you got me wrong! I got the makin's all right, but I don't
jest sabe rollin' 'em." Pete dug into his coat-pocket and fetched up a
check-book. "Same as you paid for your hoss with."

"This is Stockmen's Security. You have an account there?"

"That's what the president was ca