And we don't want to go spoilin' everything by letting your folks see what you're bringin' home with yuh! And it might hurt Sis with your folks, if they found out that I'm--" Bud had been standing by his horse, looking from one to the other, listening, watching their faces, measuring the full depth of their manhood.

"Say! you remind me of a story the folks tell on me," he said, his eyes shining, while his voice strove to make light of it all.

"Once, when I was a kid in pink-aprons, I got lost from the trail-herd my folks were bringing up from Texas.

It was comin' dark, and they had the whole outfit out hunting me, and everybody scared to death.

When they were all about crazy, they claim I came walking up to the camp-fire dragging a dead snake by the tail, and carrying a horn toad in my shirt, and claiming they were mine because I 'ketched 'em.' I'm not branding that yarn with any moral--but figure it out for yourself, boys." The two looked at each other and grinned.