" The boss," said Teeters sardonically from the comer
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."
Toomey's brilliant black eyes flashed. Swallowing the impudence of these western hirelings was one of the hardest things he had to endure in his present life. But even he could see that Teeters thoroughly understood cattle, else he would have long since discharged him.
" I've ridden about ten extra miles trying to keep you in sight."
" If you'd let them sturrups out like I told you and quit tryin' to set down standin' up, ridin' wouldn't tire you so much." Teeters looked at the English pigskin saddle in frank disgust.
Toomey ignored the criticism and said arrogantly: |. " I want you to follow me from now on."
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