out words.
"Much obliged, kid. Passin' through?"
"I've hired to Nearing."
"Hired out to him, heh?" the wrangler said, speculatively, his tone forecasting his next question. "What do you aim to do out here on the range, kid?"
"I had some thought of learning the cowpunchin' trade," Barrett replied, leaving it to be surmised that doubts had entered his mind on the wisdom of pursuing that ambition.
"Oh, cowpunchin'. I see. You shoot like a man that's had experience, but you don't ride like erry one. What you been workin' at, kid?"
"I followed the sea."
"Which?"
"Followed the sea."
"Where to, kid?" the wrangler asked, in kindly, rather consoling voice, as if he pitied a folly so ingenuously confessed.
"I was a sailor in the navy, at sea, on a ship, a battleship, with a flag on it, you know, and guns, cannon, torpedoes."
Barrett felt that the fellow was kidding him, and knew that a dozen pairs of ears at the fire were turned his way, listening to all they could catch.
"The—hell—you—was!" said the wrangler.
His amazement, his admiration, his altogether and unmistakable satisfaction, was so plain in the wrangler's voice that the compliment was greater than Barrett could have asked. The wrangler smoked a while, full of his sensation of surprise as he was of supper. Pres-
