Susie opened it.
In ludicrous contrast to the timid rap, a huge figure that all but filled it was framed in the doorway.
It was “Babe” from the Bar C ranch; “Baby” Britt, curly-haired, pink-cheeked, with one innocent blue eye dark from recent impact with a fist, which gave its owner the appearance of a dissipated cherub.
“Evenin’,” he said tremulously, his eyes roving as though in search of some one.
“I lost a horse——” he began.
“Brown?” interrupted Susie, with suspicious interest. “With a star in the forehead?”
“Yes.”
“One white stockin’?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Roached mane?”