“Come and look,” Andy begged from below.  “If I’m joshing—­”

“You can josh and be darned,” finished Jack for him.  “I don’t pack you up hill more than once, old-timer.  We’re going to call on your Mary-girl.  When yuh get good and refreshed up, you can come and look on at me and Irish acting pretty and getting a stand-in.  So-long!”

Irish, looking back over his shoulder, saw Andy raise his head and gaze after them; saw it drop upon his arms just before they went quite over the hill.  The sight stuck persistently and unpleasantly in his memory.

“Yuh know, he might be hurt,” he began tentatively when they had ridden slowly a hundred yards or so.

“He might.  But he ain’t.  He’s up to some game again, and he wouldn’t like anything better than to have us ride down there and feel his bones.  If you’d been along, that day in the Bad-lands, you’d know the kind of bluff he can put up.  Why, we all thought sure he was going to die.  He acted that natural we felt like we was packing a corpse at a funeral—­and him tickled to death all the while at the load he was throwing!  No sir, yuh don’t see me swallowing no such dope as that, any more.  When he gets tired uh laying there, he’ll recover rapid and come on.  Don’t yuh worry none about Andy Green; why, man, do yuh reckon any horse-critter could break his leg—­a rider like him?  He knows more ways uh falling off a horse without losing the ashes off his cigarette than most men know how to—­how to punish grub!  Andy Green couldn’t get hurt with a horse!  If he could, he’d uh been dead and playing his little harp long ago.”

Such an argument was more convincing than the note of pain in the voice of Andy, so that Irish shook off his uneasiness and laughed at the narrow escape he’d had from being made a fool.  And speedily they forgot the incident.

It was Take-Notice who made them remember, when they had been an hour or so basking themselves, so to speak, in the smiles of Mary.  They had fancied all along that she had a curiously expectant air, and that she went very often to the door to see what the lambs were up to—­and always lifted her eyes to the prairie slope down which they had ridden and gazed as long as she dared.  They were not dull; they understood quite well what “lamb” it was that held half the mind of her, and they were piqued because of their understanding, and not disposed to further the cause of the absent.  Therefore, when Take-Notice asked casually what had become of Andy, Jack Bates moved his feet impatiently, shot a sidelong glance at the girl (who was at that moment standing where she could look out of the window) and laughed unpleasantly.

“Oh, Andy’s been took again with an attack uh bluff,” he answered lightly.  “He gets that way, ever so often, you know.  We left him laying in a sunny spot, a few miles back, trying to make somebody think he was hurt, so they’d pack him home and he’d have the laugh on them for all summer.”