"The Dean ?" The cowboy smiled.

"Mr.Baldwin, the owner of the Cross-Triangle, you know." "Oh!" The stranger was clearly embarrassed.

Perhaps he was thinking of that clump of bushes on the mountain side.
Joe, loosing his riata from the horse's neck, and coiling it carefully, considered a moment.

Then: "You ain't goin' to walk to the Cross-Triangle, be you ?" That self-mocking smile touched the man's lips; but there was a hint of decisive purpose in his voice as he answered, "Oh, yes." Again the cowboy frankly measured the stranger.

Then he moved toward the corral gate, the coiled riata in one hand, the bridle rein in the other.
"I'll catch up a horse for you," he said in a matter-of-fact tone, as if reaching a decision.
The other spoke hastily.