“Say, Dick,” said Perry, half an hour later, as the station came in sight in the distance, “it was bully of you to come out here and show us that Hyrachyus.”
The cowboy waved his thanks away with a gesture, but the lad continued:
“I’ve been wondering, since you’ve got so interested in that tooth idea, if you wouldn’t like one. If you want to spin a yarn you ought to have something to show!”
He put his hand to his tie and drew from it a small scarfpin made from a Zeuglodon tooth; one of those he had picked up in Zeuglodon Valley two years before.
“Here’s one,” he said, “of a whale that lived about three million years ago. Use it for a stick-pin!”
“But, pard—” the cowboy began.
“Never mind about that, go ahead,” urged the boy. “If you don’t want to take it any other way, take it just to remember this ride by. Honestly, I’ve got lots of them, and you mightn’t happen to see one again.”
The lad’s new friend protested vigorously, but it was clear that the gift appealed to him, and, just before they reached the station, Perry overcame the last of his objections. The range-rider took the stick-pin and thrust it into the band of his sombrero, taking particular delight in the little patent fastener that Perry also gave him, to prevent the pin from flying out. He flourished the sombrero with a “whoop!” and started his pony on a series of antics that would have done credit to a trick mule.
When Antoine and Perry lost sight of him, the broncho was headed across the plains like a dustwhirl, while the cowboy’s cheery “Adios!” rang in their ears.