"Go away! Go away! You're a champeen. I've got a spavined, ring-boned cayuse over in the range that I'm going to put you up against when you join us. He'll give you all the exercise you want——"
"Hey, Bud, ain't it 'bout time we were moseying?" called one of Stevens's companions.
"I reckon. Can't be any hotter than 'tis now. When you going to join us, Parry?"
"We'll be there in a few days. But come here; I want to talk with you?"
"Sure thing."
"If we go on a hunt with you, remember there's to be no funny business. These boys, while they're no tenderfeet, are fine fellows and they must be treated well. I'm responsible for them. What I say goes. Understand?"
"We'll look out for the kids, don't you get in a hot stew 'bout that."
With a final whoop and a cheer for the members of Tom Parry's party, the turbulent cowboys put spurs to their ponies. Once more a cloud of dust rose from the desert, across which it slowly rolled. The boys watched it for half an hour, until the cloud had dwindled to a mere speck in the distance.
"Not such a bad lot, after all," was the Professor's conclusion.
"Rough diamonds," smiled the guide.