“I see,” Roy mused. “So that’s it? How long ago did this happen?”
“Three months.”
“Man, that’s tough lines!” Roy breathed. “Poor fellow! He’s alone now, is he?”
“I’m with him,” Conroy flung back. “An’ I aims to stay with him, too! Well, I reckon I’d better help with them cows.”
CHAPTER XII
A Crack at Fortune
They were back at the X Bar X again. The cattle had been loaded and sent rumbling toward Chicago. Things were quiet, and the punchers, except those who were riding fence, occupied themselves with jobs about the ranch.
Mr. Manley observed Teddy’s face, took a look at Silent, and said nothing. He knew. And when he saw Teddy and Silent throwing a jackknife into a small ring on the side of the bunk-house, trying to see who could come closest to the center, he grinned widely and said to Mrs. Manley, who stood with him on the porch of the ranch house:
“See it, Barbara? Reckon Teddy’s made a new friend.”
Mrs. Manley smiled and laid a hand on her husband’s arm.
“Bardwell,” she said, “men are inexplicable creatures! Teddy and that other—Silent, they call him—had a fight, didn’t they?”