"I know—but—doggone it! I want to ride a hoss and go somewhere!"
"I will pay you three dollars a week," said Montoya, and his eyes twinkled. He was enjoying Pete's embarrassment.
"It ain't the money. You sure been square. It ain't that. I reckon I jest got to go."
"Then it is that you go. I will find another to help. You have been a good boy. You do not like the sheep—but the horses. I know that you have been saving the money. You have not bought cartridges. I would give you—"
"Hold on—you give me my money day before yesterday."
"Then you have a little till you get your wages from the Concho. It is good."
"Oh, I'm broke all right," said Pete. "But that don't bother me none. I paid Roth for that gun I swiped—"
"You steal the gun?"
"Well, it wa'n't jest stealin' it. Roth he never paid me no wages, so when I lit out I took her along and writ him it was for wages."
"Then why did you pay him?"