Presently Andy turned to Pete. "Pete," he said gravely, "you're walkin' right into trouble. Every time Gary starts to lope, you rein him up mighty short. He's fightin' the bit, and first thing you know—"
"I'll git pitched, eh? Well, mebby you're right. I done told Bailey that if I ever did meet Steve Gary I would leave him do the talking but I sure can't stand for his line o' talk. He's plumb mean."
"I'll be mighty glad when we git through with this job," said Andy.
"Shucks! It won't take three hours! I know every tree and stump on this flat. We'll be driftin' home 'long about four to-morrow."
CHAPTER XVI
THE OPEN HOLSTER
If there ever was a morning calculated to inspire good-will and heartiness in a human being it was that morning. The dawn came swiftly, battering through a fleece of clouds and painting the Blue Mesa in all the gorgeous and utterly indescribable colors of an Arizona sunrise. The air was crisp and so clear that it seemed to sparkle, like water. Andy White whistled as he gathered up the blankets and plodded toward the cabin. Pete felt like whistling, but for some reason he was silent. He followed Andy to the cabin and saw that the cowboy Cotton was making coffee.
"All we got is cold grub," stated Pete, "but we got plenty for everybody."
"We fetched some coffee and bacon," said Cotton. But he did not invite them to eat.