CHAPTER X.
Harry Conroy at Home.
It was late next morning when they got under way; for they had not reached camp until long after midnight, and Wooden Shoes was determined the cattle should have one good feed, and all the water they wanted, to requite them for the hard drive of the day before.
Pink rode out with Rowdy to the herd—a heavy-lidded, gloomy Rowdy he was, and not amiably inclined toward the small talk of the range. But Pink had slept five whole hours and was almost his normal self; which means that speech was not to be denied him.
"What yuh mourning over?" he bantered. "Mad 'cause the reservation's so close?"
"Sure," assented Rowdy, with deep sarcasm.
"That's what I thought. Studying up the nicest way uh giving brother-in-law the glad hand, ain't yuh?"
"He's no relation uh mine—and never will be,"
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