“Bo, he's a plumb dandy,” said Roy. “Never seen a prettier hoss. He'll run like a streak. An' he's got good eyes. He'll be a pet some day. But I reckon he'll always be spunky.”
“Bo ventured to step closer, and at last got a hand on the mustang, and then another. She smoothed his quivering neck and called softly to him, until he submitted to her hold.
“What's his name?” she asked.
“Blue somethin' or other,” replied Roy.
“Tom, has my new mustang a name?” asked Bo, turning to the cowboy.
“Shore.”
“What then?”
“Wal, I named him Blue-Bo,” answered Las Vegas, with a smile.
“Blue-Boy?”
“Nope. He's named after you. An' I chased him, roped him, broke him all myself.”