Landy looked the saddle over carefully. "Hit's made by a saddle-maker all right, and will fit that hoss to a tee. They used to have some fancy saddles back in the early days. I've seen 'em that cost a thousand--Chauchaua--made and covered with silver do dads, en maybe they'd have 'em flung on a hoss that wasn't wuth his feed. I mind the time when ole Lem Hawks made a right smart lot of change, a-sellin' ole saddles that he swore come out'n the Custer massacre. Lem finally got to believin' that he was a survivor of that carnage. "They finally caught up with Lem however. He had sold more saddles than Custer had men, and the old cow saddles with their big horns and high cantles didn't look like an army saddle nohow. But Lem kept right on a-bein' a survivor--him en about a thousand others. Hit's like Lincoln's bodyguards--thar's been more of them folks died than Grant had in his whole army. Yer saddle is all right, son, and we shore ort to talk the B-line folks outa that little hoss." "I want to take the saddle over when we go," said Davy enthusiastically. "They could see how it fit, and that might influence their decision. I could put it on one of the burros and ride it over." Landy laughed uproarously. "Why son, ye wouldn't git thar by Febwary. A burro ain't geared to ride en go places. He will foller ye right up the side of a glacier, but he ain't mentally constructed to take the lead. Why, if ye was on one of 'em, backward, en paddlin' him with a clapboard, he'd back right up agin hit." "Well, what do they keep them for? Who do they belong to, anyhow?" "Them two a-roamin' around here, belong to ole Maddy, the ole miner gent. He left 'em here while he went romancin' around up Ripple Creek. He goes up thar, and has got a way out to the top. He goes in North Park, cl'ar over to Granby and Grand Lake. He swings 'round by Steamboat Springs and Hahns Peak, and comes a-driftin' back, mebbe from the north. He left 'em here three months ago. He'll git 'em when he gits 'em, en he won't lose much if he don't. "Ole Maddy has been in the hills--so hit's told--since the days of Jim Beck with and Bridger. Some say he was in Virginia Vale when Slade rubbed out Jules, the Frenchman. They say too, that he knew Carson, but that ain't so! Yit I do know that he pardnered with Will Drannon, the boy that ole Kit raised, because I heard Maddy tell a lot about Drannon, and later I read Drannon's book en right in the book, was ole Maddy. Oh, he's an oldster all right. He jist projects around in the hills, pans a little gold en rambles around by himse'f. He's not 'gold mad,' he jist likes to roam. He's clean, don't talk much, en anybody will keep him until he gits ready to pull out." "Well, I am sure disappointed about that burro thing," said Davy regretfully. "I wanted to ride that saddle over there and maybe they could see that the saddle, the hoss, and the midget ought not be separated."