Suddenly Neale came face to face with Larry King.
“Red!” he yelled, and made at the cowboy.
“I’m shore glad to see you,” drawled Larry. “What ‘n hell busted loose round heah?”
Neale drew Larry out of the crowd. He carried a small pack done up in a canvas covering.
“Red, your face looks like home to a man in a strange land,” declared Neale. “Where are your horses?”
Larry looked less at his ease.
“Wal, I sold them.”
“Sold them! Those great horses? Oh, Red, you didn’t!”
“Hell! It costs money to ride on this heah U.P.R. thet we built, an’ I had no money.”
“But what did you sell them for? I—I cared for those horses.”