Bud swung round, puffing. "I got that tune where I can keep her in sight as long as she lopes on the level. But when she takes to jumpin' stumps and makin' them quick turns, I sure have to do some hard ridin' to keep her from losin' herself. Me and Bondsman's been worryin' along behind them two tunes for quite a spell. I reckon I ought to started in younger. But, anyhow, that there piano is right good comp'ny. When I been settin' here alone, nights, and feelin' out her paces, I get so het up and interested that I don't know the fire's out till Bondsman takes to shiverin' and whinin' and tellin' me he'd like to get some sleep afore mornin'." And Bondsman, now that the music had stopped, stalked to Lorry and eyed him with an expression which said plainly: "It's his weak spot--this music. You will have to overlook it. He's really a rather decent sort of person." "I got a mechanical player in the bedroom," said Shoop. "And a reg'lar outfit of tunes for dances." Lorry was tempted to ask to hear it, but changed his mind. "I've heard them players. They're sure good for a dance, but I like real playin' better." Bud Shoop grinned. "That's the way with Bondsman here. Now he won't open his head to one of them paper tunes. I've tried 'em all on him. You can't tell me a dog ain't got feelin's." Chapter XV _John and Demijohn_ The grass on the high mesa was heavy with dew when Lorry stepped from the cabin next morning. His pony, Gray Leg, stood close to the corral, where Shoop's horses were playfully biting at him over the bars. Lorry unhobbled Gray Leg and turned Shoop's horses out to water. The three ponies trotted to the water-hole, sniffed at the water, and, whirling, raced across the mesa, pitching and kicking in the joy of liberation. After breakfast Bud and Lorry sat out in the sun, enjoying the slow warmth. The morning air was still keen in the shade. Bondsman lay between them, watching the distant horses. "He won't let 'em get far into the timber," said Shoop. "He sure saves me a lot of steps, roundin' up them hosses." "I can whistle Gray Leg to me," said Lorry. "Then the other horses'll come." Shoop nodded. "What you goin' to do to-day?" "Me? Well, it's so kind of quiet and big up here I feel like settin' around and takin' it all in. I ain't been in the high country much. 'Course I don't aim to camp on you." "You're sure welcome," said Shoop heartily. "It gets lonesome up here. But if you ain't got no reg'lar plan I was thinkin' of ridin' over to Sheep Crossin'--and mebby on down to Jason." "Suits me fine!" Shoop heaved himself up. Lorry whistled shrilly. Gray Leg, across the mesa, raised his head. Lorry whistled again. The pony lowered his head and nipped at the bunch-grass as he moved slowly toward the house. Shoop's horses watched him, and finally decided that they would follow. Gray Leg stopped just out of reach. "Get in the corral, there!" said Lorry, waving his arm.