Clancy looked up into the face of the Cowboy Wonder and scowled.
"You're the limit," he grunted.

"I guess Chip will believe you've got a yellow streak, after this." A smile, mirthless and ugly, crossed Blunt's bronzed face.

Leaning forward along his horse's neck, he fixed his sloe-black eyes on Clancy's.
"Yeller streak, eh ?" he echoed.

"What is there, in this, to make Merriwell think I've got a thing like that ?" "Of course," flashed Clancy, "you touched up the professor's claim for the trail of ore we've been following front Happenchance." "That's a lie," snapped Blunt.

"We're cow-punchers, and homemade athletes, but we're not sneak thieves.