"Things is runnin' slow," said a Starr man. "Wish I'd 'a' fetched my music along. Mebby I could git somebody to sing me to sleep."
Bud laughed. "Have a good time, boys." And he moved on.
"That was one for you—and yore piano," said his companion.
"Mebby so. We'll let that rest. I'm lookin' for a friend of mine." And
Shoop edged along the crowd.
The man that Shoop was looking for was standing alone beneath the shade of an acacia, watching the crowd. He was a tall, heavy man, dark-featured, with a silver-gray beard and brown eyes that seemed to twinkle with amusement even when his lips were grim. The giant sheepman of the south country was known to every one on account of his great physique and his immense holdings in land and sheep. Shoop talked with him for a few minutes. Together they strolled back to the crowd.
The Starr boys were still pitching dollars when Shoop and the sheepman approached.
"Who's top-hand in this game?" queried Shoop genially.
"High Chin—and at any game you got," said a Starr man.
"Well, now!"
"Any game you got."