"He ain't done it lately, bo." "Lemme up there, Skyrider, and see what it is yo'all are paintin' on," Bud pleaded.

"If it's po'try, maybe I can sing it." Johnny relaxed into a grin, but he did not answer the jibe.

He was disgusted with Bland for having such bad taste as to drum up trade here on the ranch, among the boys who had ridden hard and long, believing him in dire need.

He hoped the boys would not guess that Bland was in earnest; a poor, cheap joke is sometimes better than tactless sincerity.

He was even ashamed now of the name he was painting on the wings.