“How’s that?”
The cowboy lighted a cigarette from the ashes of his former one, and began:
“’Bout a couple o’ weeks ago, when I was ridin’ down a maverick heifer that wanted to take a bite out o’ the horizon, I turned the corner of a draw, an’ right over my head was the skull o’ some kind of critter, skull an’ a hoof. Which I ain’t superstitious none, but it did look like that ornery critter was walkin’ out o’ the rock to chase me, same as I was chasin the heifer.”
Antoine turned eagerly, but the rumble of the incoming train drowned his answer, and, a moment later, Perry jumped out, all enthusiasm and excitement. He rushed up to his friend.
“You here, Antoine! Oh, bully! The professor hadn’t told me that you were one of the party!”
Antoine replied with equally cordial greetings, for the two had remained good friends ever since the Fayum trip and had corresponded occasionally. Then the young paleontologist, turning to his new-made cowboy acquaintance, said as an introduction:
“Meet another ‘bone-hunter,’ won’t you? This is Perry Hunt.”
“Put it there!” said the Westerner, reaching out his hand. “‘Round-up Dick,’ they call me on the range.”
“Fine,” said the boy, shaking hands heartily. “I’ve always wanted to know a real cowboy. You are one, aren’t you?”
The lad’s interest was so genuine and so thoroughly boyish that the range-rider smiled broadly. He seldom smiled, but his weather-beaten face brightened marvelously when he did so.