“I wish I had the making of the laws. I'd put a bounty on all the darn fools that think they can write cowboy stories just because they rode past a roundup once, on a fast train,” he growled, reaching for his tobacco sack. “Huh! I'd like to meet up with the yahoo that wrote that rank yarn! I'd ask him where he got his lack of information. Huh! A cow-puncher togged up like he was going after the snakiest bronk in the country, when he was only going to drive to town in a buckboard! 'His pistol belt and dirk and leathern chaps'--oh, Lord; oh, Lord! And spurs! I wonder if he thinks it takes spurs to ride a buckboard? Do they think, back East, that spurs grow on a man's heels out here and won't come off? Do they think we SLEEP in 'em, I wonder?” He drew a match along the arm of the chair where the varnish was worn off. “They think all a cow-puncher has to do is eat and sleep and ride fat horses. I'd like to tell some of them a few things that they don't--” “I've brought you a caller, Chip. Aren't you glad to see him?” It was the Little Doctor at the window, and the laugh he loved was in her voice and in her eyes, that it hurt him to meet, lately. The color surged to his face, and he leaned from the window, his thin, white hand outstretched caressingly. “I'd tell a man!” he said, and choked a little over it. “Silver, old boy!” Silver, nickering softly, limped forward and nestled his nose in the palm of his master. “He's been out in the corral for several days, but I didn't tell you--I wanted it for a surprise,” said the Little Doctor. “This is his longest trip, but he'll soon be well now.” “Yes; I'd give a good deal if I could walk as well as he can,” said Chip, gloomily. “He wasn't hurt as badly as you were. You ought to be thankful you can walk at all, and that you won't limp all your life. I was afraid for a while, just at first--” “You were? Why didn't you tell me?” Chip's eyes were fixed sternly upon her. “Because I didn't want to. It would only have made matters worse, anyway. And you won't limp, you know, if you're careful for a while longer. I'm going to get Silver his sugar. He has sugar every day.” Silver lifted his head and looked after her inquiringly, whinnied complainingly, and prepared to follow as best he could. “Silver--oh, Silver!” Chip snapped his fingers to attract his attention. “Hang the luck, come back here! Would you throw down your best friend for that girl? Has she got to have you, too?” His voice grew wistfully rebellious. “You're mine. Come back here, you little fool--she doesn't care.” Silver stopped at the corner, swung his head and looked back at Chip, beckoning, coaxing, swearing under his breath. His eyes sought for sign of his goddess, who had disappeared most mysteriously. Throwing up his head, he sent a protest shrilling through the air, and looked no more at Chip. “I'm coming, now be still. Oh, don't you dare paw with your lame leg! Why didn't you stay with your master?”