even old Hank Barley, the silent, expressed himself as
mildly astonished.

"We figured you'd stay till after the round-up, anyhow," said Bailey.

"Reckon it's too tame for Pete here," growled Andy.

"That's no fault of yours, Andrew," observed Ma Bailey.

"You're always peckin' at me," grumbled Andy, who detested being called
"Andrew" quite as much as that robust individual known to his friends as
Bill detests being called "Willie"--and Ma Bailey knew it.

"So you aim to leave us," said Haskins, quite unaware of Ma Bailey's eye
which glared disapproval of the subject.

"Pete's going--next Tuesday--and just to set your mind at rest and give
you a chance to eat your supper"--Bill had been doing scarcely anything
else since he sat down--"Pete has a right good reason to go."

"Kin I have another cup of coffee?" queried Bill.

"Sakes alive, yes! I reckon that's what's ailing you."

"I only had three, Ma."

"Pete is going away _on business_," asserted Ma Bailey.

"Huh," snorted Andy.

Bailey glanced at his wife, who telegraphed to him to change the subject.
And that good man, who had been married twenty-five years, changed the
subject immediately.

But Andy did not let it drop. After supper he cornered Pete in the
bunk-house, and following some wordy fencing, ascertained that Pete was
going to Tucson for the winter to get an education. Pete blushingly
admitted that that was his sole intent, swore Andy to secrecy, and told
him that he had discussed the subject with Ma Bailey, who had advised him
to go.

"So you're quittin' the game," mourned Andy.

"Nope, jest beginnin'."

"Well, you might 'a' said somethin', anyhow."

Pete put his hand on Andy's shoulder. "I wa'n't sure--till yesterday. I
_was_ goin' to tell _you_, Andy. Shucks! Didn't I tell you about the
money and everything--and you didn't say a word to the boys. I ain't
forgittin'."

"Oh, I knowed havin' money wouldn't swell you up. It ain't that. Only,
I was wonderin'--"

"So was I, Andy. And I been wonderin' for quite a spell. Come on out
and let's go set on the corral bars and smoke and--jest smoke."

But they did more than just smoke. The Arizona stars shot wondrous
shafts of white fire through the nipping air as the chums sensed the
comfortable companionship of horses moving slowly about the corral; and
they heard the far, faint call of the coyote as a drift of wind brought
the keen tang of the distant timberlands. They talked