"Crazy with the heat," commented Billy Dime, jerking his thumb toward Collie.
Tall, slim, slow of movement, Collie slipped from the corral bars and secured the dangling reins. Across the utter silence came the whistle of a viewless hawk. The cowmen awakened from their momentary apathy. Two of them carried Jasper Lane toward the ranch-house. Some one laughed.
Gleason, the superintendent, gazed at the outlaw pony and fingered his belt. "That's the fourth!" he said slowly and distinctly. "She ain't worth it."
"The fourth Oro rider," said a voice. "You ain't countin' any Moonstone riders."
"Ain't seen any to count," retorted Gleason, and there was a general laugh.
Strangely enough, the outlaw pony followed Collie quietly as he led her toward Gleason, "The boys say there's a bet up that nobody can stick on her two minutes. She's the bet. Is that right?" said Collie.
"What you goin' to do?" queried Gleason, and some of the Oro boys laughed.
"I don't know yet," said Collie. "Maybe I'll take her back to the Moonstone with me."
Miguel of the Moonstone removed his sombrero and gravely passed it. "Flowers for the Collie kid," he said solemnly.
Collie, grave, alert, a little white beneath his tan, called for Williams to hold the pony. Then the younger man, talking to her meanwhile, slipped off the bridle and adjusted a hackamore in its place. He tightened the cinchas. The men had ceased joking. Evidently the kid meant business. Next he removed his spurs and flung them, with his quirt, in a corner.