It was only when he had lowered the book to muse over a strange sentence that his wandering eye was caught beyond the window by the flash of a falling star of unusual brilliance. It was so bright, indeed, that he crossed the room to look out at the sky, stepping very softly, for he had grown accustomed to lightening his footfall, and now unconsciously the murmuring voices of the talkers made him move stealthily--not to steal upon them, but to keep from breaking in on their talk. But when he came to the door opening on the veranda the words he heard banished all thought of falling stars. He listened, dazed. Pete Reeve had just broken into the steady flow of the newcomer's talk. "It's no use, Hugh. I can't go, you see. I'm tied down here with the big fellow." "Tied down?" thought Bull Hunter, and he winced. A curse, then, "Why don't you throw the big hulk over?" "He ain't a hulk," protested Pete somewhat sharply, and the heart of Bull warmed again. "Hush," said Hugh Manners. "He'll be hearing." "No danger. He's at his books, and that means that he wouldn't hear a cannon. That's his way." "He don't look like a book-learned gent," said Hugh Manners with more respect in his voice. "He don't look like a lot of things that he is," said Pete. "I don't know what he is myself--except that he's the straightest, gentlest, kindest, simplest fellow that ever walked." Bull Hunter turned to escape from hearing this eulogy, but he dared not move for fear his retreat might be heard--and that would be immensely embarrassing. "Just what he is I don't know," said Pete again. "He doesn't know himself. He's had what you might call an extra-long childhood--that's why he's got that misty look in his eyes." "That fool look," scoffed Hugh Manners. "You think so? I tell you, Manners, he's just waking up, and when he's clear waked up he'll be a world-beater! You saw that doorknob?" "Smashed? Yep. What of it?" "He done it with a gun, standing clean across the room, with a flash draw, shooting from the hip--and he made a clean center hit of it." Pete brought out these facts jerkily, one by one, piling one extraordinary thing upon the other; and when he had finished, Hugh Manners gasped. "I'm mighty glad," he said, "that you told me that, I--I might of made some mistake." "You'd sure've made an awful mistake if you tangle with him, Manners. Don't forget it." "Your work, I guess." "Partly," said Pete modestly. "I speeded his draw up a bit, but he had the straight eye and the steady hand when I started with him. He didn't need much target practice--just the draw." "And he's really fast?" "He's got my draw." That told volumes to Manners. "And why not take him in with us?" he asked, after a reverent pause. "Not that!" exclaimed Pete. "Besides, he couldn't ride and keep up with us. He'd wear out three hosses a day with his weight."