and in salute. Young Bob reined up with a gay
flourish.

"Hello, Dinesy!" He took a swift survey of Johnny's little herd and
sized up the situation. "Looks like you done signed up with the Bar
Cross."

"Oh, _si_! Here's a list of horses Cole sent for. I don't know 'em
all, so I brought along all I saw."

Bob took the scrap of paper.

"Calabaza, Jug, Silver Dick--Oh, excuse me! Mr. Hales, this is Johnny
Dines. Mr. Hales is thinkin' some of buying that ornery Spot horse of
mine. Johnny, you got nigh all you need to make good your hospital
list. Now let's see. Um-m!--Twilight, Cyclone, Dynamite, Rebel, Sif
Sam, Cigarette, Skyrocket, Straight-edge, and so forth. Um! Your
mount, that bunch? Sweet spirits of nitre! Oh, cowboy! You sure got to
ride!"

"Last man takes the leavings," said Johnny.

"You got 'em." Bob rolled his eyes eloquently. "I'll tell a man! Two
sticks and eleven catawampouses! Well, it's your funeral. Any rush?"

"Just so I get back to Engle to-morrow night."

"Easy as silk, then. All them you ain't got here will be in to water
to-night or to-morrow morning, 'cept Bluebeard and Popcorn. They run
at Puddingstone Tanks, down the canyon. You and me will go get 'em
after dinner."

"Dinner? Let's go! Got any beef, Bobby?"

"Better'n beef. Bear meat-jerked. Make hair grow on your chest. Ever
eat any?"

"Bear meat? Who killed a bear?"

"Me. Little Bobby. All alone. Three of 'em. Killed three in the yard
the very first morning," said little Bobby proudly. "I heard them
snuffin' and millin' round out in the water pen in the night, but I
thought it was stock. Then they come up in the house yard. Soon as it
come day I got up to drive 'em out--and behold you, they was no stock,
but three whoppin' brown bears. So I fogged 'em. Killed all three
before they could get out of the yard."

"Good Lord!" said Johnny. His face drooped to troubled lines. The man
Hales glanced sharply at him.

"Heap big chief me!" prattled Bobby, unnoting. "Two bully good
skins--had to shoot the last one all to rags to kill him--and twelve
hundred pounds of good meat. Wah!" He turned to the stranger. "Well,
Mr. Hales, do you think that little old plug of mine will suit you?"

"Oh, I reckon so. Beggars mustn't be choosers--and I sure need him.
Thirty dollars, you said?"

"Wouldn't take a cent more. I'm not gougin' you. That's his price,
weekdays or Sunday. He don't look much, but he ain't such a bad little
hoss."

Hales nodd