world they admired fortitude. He could not show the white feather now, he would buck up.
"All right, Uncle Henry," he said. "I guess I am good for it. You hold Patches for a minute; I want to go into this grocery store and make a purchase."
Five minutes later the young man re-appeared and the weariness which had been so heavy upon him seemed to have departed. In that short time he had pulled himself together and re-captured his fighting spirit.
Then the little band of cow-punchers swung into their saddles, gave a few departing war whoops, and disappeared in a cloud of dust. It must not be imagined that they kept up this wild gallop for long. This was just for its moral effect upon the citizens of Wyanne. The members of the polo team were probably four as tired and jaded men as could have been found in the state of Wyoming on that night before Thanksgiving Day.
Once outside the town the ponies fell into their habitual running walk, a gait as easy as the trot of a fox and that eats up the miles like the lope of the lobo wolf, a gait that is easy on both man and horse.
When they had covered about five miles Larry pulled Patches up at a convenient turn in the trail which he knew would hide them from sight. Here he dismounted and began feeling in his pockets. Patches
