CHAPTER 3. Rowdy Hires a New Boss.
Next morning, after breakfast, Mr. Rodway followed Vaughan out to the stable, and repeated Bill Brown's question.
“I'd like to know where yuh got this horse,” he began, with an apologetic sort of determination in his tone. “He happens to belong to me. He was run off with a bunch three years ago, and this is the first trace anybody has ever got of 'em. I see the brand's been worked. It was a Roman four—that's my brand; now it looks like a map of Texas; but I'd swear to the horse—raised him from a colt.”
Rowdy had expected something of the sort, and he knew quite well what he was going to do; he had settled that the night before, with the memory of Miss Conroy's eyes fresh in his mind.
“I got him in a deal across the line,” he said. “I was told he came from east Oregon. But last night, when he piloted us straight to your corral gate, I guessed he'd been here before. He's yours, all right, if you say so.”
“Uh course he ain't worth such a pile uh money,” apologized Rodway, “but the kids thought a heap of him. I'd rather locate some of the horses that was with him—or the man yuh got him of. They was some mighty good horses run out uh this country then, but they was all out on the range, so we didn't miss 'em in time to do any good. Do yu know who took 'em across the line?”
“No,” said Rowdy deliberately. “The man I got Chub from went north, and I heard he got killed. I don't know of any other in the deal.”
Rodway grunted, and Vaughan began vigorously brushing Dixie's roughened coat. “If you don't mind,” he said, after a minute, “I'd like to borrow Chub to pack my bed over to the Cross L. I can bring him back again.”
“Why, sure!” assented Rodway eagerly. “I hate to take him from yuh, but the kids—”
“Oh, that's all right,” interrupted Rowdy cheerfully. “It's all in the game, and I should 'a' looked up his pedigree, for I knew—. Anyway, was worth the price of him to have him along last night. We'd have milled around till daylight, I guess, only for him.”