was dragged by Bud's
lasso from the hole beside the stump where he had been hiding.

CHAPTER XI

BAD BUSINESS

"My mistake, Del Pinzo! My mistake!" exclaimed Bud, smiling as
good-naturedly as possible under the circumstances. The young rancher
leaped from Sock (so called because he had one white foot that looked
exactly as if he had on a sock) and approached the Mexican, who had
begun to loosen the lariat from around his body.

"I sure didn't know you were there, Del Pinzo," went on Bud,
soothingly. "I was just showing these tenderfeet how to throw a rope,
_pronto_,--when up you sprout, and get the benefit of it. Hope I
didn't ruffle you any?" asked Bud.

"Hum! Too much _pronto_!" muttered the man, but his face lost some of
its scowl as he realized it had been an accident.

"What's _pronto_?" whispered Dick to Nort, noting that his brother had
half drawn his gun, though there was no need of this action.

"Means quick," translated Bud, who overheard the question. "I was a
little too quick with my rope. But I didn't know anybody was behind
that stump."

"Nor I," said Dick, while Bud began gathering in the length of his
lariat.

"I--sleep!" said the Mexican; with some of the gutturalness of the
Indian. "No got a right to sleep?" he asked, half sarcastically, as he
recovered his gun from where it had slipped from its holster.

"Sure you got a right to sleep," admitted Bud cheerfully. "This isn't
Diamond X land, nor yet Double Z," he added, with a quick glance
around. "Not that you wouldn't have a right to take a snooze if it
_was_ Diamond X," Bud went on. "Well, I reckon we'll mosey along," he
said slowly, making a sign to Dick and Nort to mount their ponies.
"Got to get back to the ranch."

"Um!" was all the remark Del Pinzo made as he brushed himself off.
Bather a useless proceeding it would appear, for he was always dirty
and unkempt to the last degree.

"Who is he?" asked Dick of Bud as the three boy ranchers rode along the
homeward trail, now out of earshot of the man Bud had so
unceremoniously roped.

"Oh, he's a sort of Mexican half breed," was the answer. "Not very
safe to have on the range during round-up."

"Why not?" asked Nort, as he turned to catch a last glimpse of the
Mexican slinking off amid the foothills.

"Well, he and his kind don't stop to look at the brand on a steer if
they happen to feel hungry," explained Bud. "They'll cut one out of
the herd, or appropriate a