"There is plenty of ranches where I am welcome," replied the Major with dignity. "I kin make the Widder Taylor's by sundown."
"Miss Maggie plays good on the pianner," Teeters commented, expectorating violently to conceal a certain embarrassment.
"And the doughnuts the old lady keeps in that crock on the kitchen table is worth a day's ride to git to." The Major closed an eye and with the other looked quizzically at Teeters, adding, "If it wa'nt for Starlight--"
"Starlight is shore some Injun," replied the cowboy, grinning understandingly.
"Now what for an outfit's that?"
The moving cloud of dust which the Major had forgotten in his keen interest in the conversation was almost upon them. "A band of woolies, a pack burro, one feller walkin', and another ridin'."
The cowboy's eyes were unfriendly, though he made no comment as they waited.
"Howdy!" called the Major genially as, with a nod, the herder would have passed without speaking.
The stranger responded briefly, but stopped.
"Come fur?" inquired the Major sociably.
"Utah."
"Goin' fur?"
"Until I find a location. I rather like the looks of this section."
"Sheep spells 'trouble' in this country," said the cowboy, significantly.
"Think so?" indifferently.
Seeing Teeters was about to say something further, the Major interrupted: "What might I call your name, sir?"
"Just say 'Joe,' and I'll answer."
The Major looked a trifle disconcerted, but in his rôle of Master of Ceremonies continued: "I'll make you acquainted with Mr. Teeters."
The two men nodded coldly.
To break the strained silence the Major observed: "Got a boy helpin' you, I notice."
"Girl," replied the sheepherder briefly.
"Girl? Oh, I see! Them overalls deceived me. Daughter, I presume."
"Pardner," laconically.
The Major looked incredulous but said nothing, and while he sought for something further to say in order to prolong the conversation they all turned abruptly at the rattle of rocks.
"The boss," said Teeters sardonically from the corner of his mouth, and added, "That's a young dude that's visitin'."
Toomey was perfectly equipped for a ride in Central Park. He looked an incongruous and alien figure in the setting in his English riding clothes and boots. The lad who accompanied him was dressed in exaggerated cowboy regalia.
Toomey used a double bit and now brought his foaming horse to a short stop with the curb. He vouchsafed the unimportant "natives" in the road only a brief glance, but addressed himself to Teeters.
"Where have you been?" he demanded in a sharp tone.
"I ain't been lost," replied Teeters calmly. "Where would I be 'cept huntin' stock?"
"Why didn't you follow me?"
"I think too much of my horse to jam him over rocks when there ain't no special call for it. I kin ride on a run 'thout fallin' off, when they's need to."