"Say," broke in Bud, jostling him rudely as he reached into the saddle-bags, "let me carry that bottle for a while."
He took a big drink out of it to prevent De Lancey from getting it all and shoved it inside his overalls.
"All right, pardner," he continued, with a mocking smile, "anything you say. I never use oaths myself much, but anything to oblige."
"No, but I mean it, Bud!" cried De Lancey. "Here's the proposition now: Whatever happens, we stay with each other till this deal is finished; on all scratch cases we match money to see who's it; and if we tangle over some girl the best man wins and the other one stays away. We leave it to the girl which one wins. Will you shake hands on that?"
"Don't need to," responded Bud; "I'll do it anyway."
"Well, shake on it, then!" insisted De Lancey, holding out his hand.
"Oh, Sally!" burst out Bud, hanging his head in embarrassment, "what's the use of getting mushy?"
But a moment later he leaned over in his saddle and locked hands with a viselike grip.
"My old man told me not to make no such promises," he muttered, "but I'll do it, being's it's you."