erybody else, so that nothing could be
done till it was over. It was a novel idea, and it tickled the humor
of the Happy Family.

The "rough string," as the bad horses were called, was corralled, and
the men made merry with the roundup crew. Diamond G men they were,
loudly proclaiming their faith in Billy Roberts, and offering bets
already against Andy, who listened undisturbed and had very little to
say. The Happy Family had faith in him, and that was enough. If
everybody, he told them, believed that he would win, where would be
the fun of riding and showing them?

It was after their early supper that Coleman came down to camp at the
heels of Chip and the Old Man. Straightway he sought out Andy like a
man who has something on his mind; though Andy did not in the least
know what it was, he recognized the indefinable symptoms and braced
himself mentally, half suspecting that it was something about that
blue roan again. He was getting a little bit tired of the blue
roan--enough so that, though he had chosen him for his string, he had
not yet put saddle to his back, but waited until the roundup started
out once more, when he would ride him in his turn.

It was the blue roan, without doubt. Coleman came to a stop directly
in front of Andy, and as directly came to the point.

"Look here, Green," he began. "I'm shy on horses for that contest, and
Whitmore and Bennett say I can have that roan you've got in your
string. If he's as bad as you claim, I certainly must have him. But
you seem to have some doubts of what he'll do, and I'd like to see him
ridden once. Your shingle is out as a broncho-peeler. Will you ride
him this evening, so I can size him up for that contest?"

Andy glanced up under his eyebrows, and then sidelong at the crowd.
Every man within hearing was paying strict attention, and was eyeing
him expectantly; for broncho-fighting is a spectacle that never palls.

"Well, I can ride him, if yuh say so," Andy made cautious answer, "but
I won't gamble he's a bad hoss _now_--that is, bad enough to take to
the Falls. Yuh don't want to expect--"

"Oh, I don't expect anything--only I want to see him ridden once. Come
on, no time like the present. If he's bad, you'll have to ride him at
the fair, anyhow, and a little practice won't hurt you; and if he
isn't, I want to know it for sure."

"It's a go with me," Andy said indifferently, though he secretly felt
much relief. The roan would go off like a pet dog, and he