cool, dark-green outline of the trees.  He dismounted to open and close a gate.  A half-mile farther he again dismounted to open and close another gate.  From there on was a straightaway road to the ranch-buildings.  Pete gathered himself together, pushed his hat down firmly—­it was new and stiff—­and put Rowdy to a high lope.  This was something like it!  Possibly Rowdy anticipated a good rest, and hay.  In any event, he did his best, rounding into the yard and up to the house like a true cow-pony.  All would have been well, as Pete realized later, had it not been for the pup.  The pup saw in Rowdy a new playfellow, and charged from the door-step just as that good steed was mentally preparing to come to a stop.  The pup was not mentally prepared in any way, and in his excitement he overshot the mark.  He caromed into Rowdy’s one recalcitrant leg—­it usually happens that way—­and Rowdy stepped on him.  Pete was also not mentally prepared to dismount at the moment, but he did so as Rowdy crashed down in a cloud of dust.  The pup, who imagined himself killed, shrieked shrilly and ran as hard as he could to the distant stables to find out if it were not so.

Pete picked up his hat.  Rowdy scrambled up and shook himself.  Pete was mad.  Over on the edge of the bunk-house veranda sat four or five of the Concho boys.  They rocked back and forth and slapped their legs and shouted.  It was a trying situation.

The foreman, Bailey, rose as Pete limped up.  “We’re livin’ over here,” said Bailey.  “Did you want to see some one?”

Pete wet his lips.  “The fo’man.  I—­I—­jest rid over to see how you was makin’ it.”

“Why, we ‘re doin’ right fair.  How you makin’ it yourself?”

“I’m here,” said Pete succinctly and without a smile.

“So we noticed,” said the foreman mildly, too mildly, for one of the punchers began to laugh, and the rest joined in.

“Wisht I had a hoss like that,” said a cowboy.  “Always did hate to climb offen a hoss.  I like to have ’em set down and kind o’ let me step off easy-like.”

Pete sorely wanted to make a sharp retort, but he had learned the wisdom of silence.  He knew that he had made himself ridiculous before these men.  It would be hard to live down this thing.  He deemed himself sadly out of luck, but he never lost sight of the main chance for an instant.

Bailey, through young Andy White, knew of Pete and was studying him.  The boy had self-possession, and he had not cursed the horse for stumbling.  He saw that Pete was making a fight to keep his temper.

“You lookin’ for work?” he said kindly.

“I was headed that way,” replied Pete.

“Can you rope?”

“Oh, some.  I kin keep from tanglin’ my feet in a rope when it’s hangin’ on the horn and I’m standin’ off a piece.”

“Well, things are slack right now.  Don’t know as I could use you.  What’s your name, anyhow?”