"And I don't suppose his old one was more than six years old," Bob said soberly.
"'Twon't that much, he'd only had it five years come Christmas."
"Can you beat it?" Bob asked a moment later after the cowboy had left them. "And yet, I reckon it would be hard to find two better friends anywhere."
"You said it," Jack agreed. "Why only the other day Slats gave Grumpy a licking because he said that Slim was too big for his pants."
"They're a funny pair all right, but mighty good fellows when it comes right down to brass tacks. But who's that fellow?" Bob asked pointing toward a horseman who was riding toward them.
"He's not one of our boys, that's sure."
They were, at the time, on the side of the herd nearest the house, all the others being some distance away and the man was approaching from the direction of Cold Springs. As he came nearer they could see that he was middle aged, roughly, even raggedly dressed, and rode a horse which looked as disreputable as himself.
"Hello, boys," he sang out when he was within a few feet of them.
"How do you do?" Bob replied courteously.
"Only middling. What ranch is this here?"