"Come in—come in!" he called. "Have a good trip? How are all the babies—and Aunt Sarah? You must be plumb worn out, ridin' all the way from Arken-saw on a hot day like this."
"Quit your kidding," Bud answered with a smile. "When I tell you what did happen you'll think I have a good right to be worn out. First, though, is there any chuck left?"
"What—they didn't even feed you? Well now, I thought you'd had a chicken dinner. Sure, Bud, come on in, an' we'll get Mex on the job."
The best they could do in the culinary line on short notice was beans, but Bud filled up mightily on them. When the edge had been taken off his hunger he asked the Kid:
"Where's the rest of the bunch?"
"Town, most of 'em. Billee Dobb is at the back fixin' his saddle. Nort and Dick went on into town again after a load of grub came, to see if they could pick up that sheep-man Hawkins told us about, and to grab me off a pony. Where were you, Bud?"
"Therein lies a tale," answered Bud, "and I don't mean maybe. Listen, Kid, and try to control your well-known faculties for humor 'til I get this off my chest."
In as few sentences as possible, Bud related to Yellin' Kid the events of the morning. Contrary to his expectations, his story was taken as it was told, seriously.
"Delton, hey? Didn't see my missin' bronc around, I suppose?"
"No, I didn't, Kid. Saw enough besides that. Well, what's the dope? What do you think about it all?"