"This is your stepuncle Pete." Bobby complied.

He gave Pete a small grimy hand and looked him over thoughtfully from tip to tip, opening his blue eyes to their widest for that purpose, under their long black lashes.
"You Stan Mitchell's pardner ?" "I am that." "You goin' to break him out o' the pen ?" "Surest thing you know!" said Pete.
"That's good!" He relaxed his grip on Pete's hand and addressed himself to breakfast.

"I like Stan," he announced, with his head in the chuck-box.
Pete used the opportunity to exchange a look with Bobby's father.
Bobby emerged from the chuck-box and resumed the topic of Stanley Mitchell.
"He'll make a hand after he's been here a spell--Stan will," he stated gravely.
"Oh, you know him, then ?" "I was with him the evenin' before the big doin's.

He didn't steal no money!" "What makes you think so ?" "Easy! He's got brains, hain't he?
I rode with him maybe a mile, but I could see that.

Well! If he'd stole that money, they wouldn't 'a' found it yet.