“That's right; only I thought, you being a--” “Not a Mexican.” Miguel's voice sharpened a trifle. “My father was Spanish, yes. My mother”--his eyes flashed briefly at the faces of the gaping Happy Family--“my mother was born in Ireland.” “And that sure makes a hard combination to beat,” cried Andy heartily. He looked at the others--at all, that is, save Pink and Irish, who had disappeared. “Well, boys, I never thought I'd come home and find--” “Miguel Rapponi,” supplied the Native Son quickly. “As well forget that other name. And,” he added with the shrug which the Happy Family had come to hate, “as well forget the story, also. I am not hungry for the feel of a knife in my back.” He smiled again engagingly at Andy Green. It was astonishing how readily that smile had sprung to life with the warmth of a little friendship, and how pleasant it was, withal. “Just as you say,” Andy agreed, not trying to hide his admiration. “I guess nobody's got a better right to holler for silence. But--say, you sure delivered the goods, old boy! You musta read about it, you fellows; about the American puncher that went over the line and rode one of their crack bulls all round the ring, and then--” He stopped and looked apologetically at Miguel, in whose dark eyes there flashed a warning light. “I clean forgot,” he confessed impulsively. “This meeting you here unexpectedly, like this, has kinda got me rattled, I guess. But--I never saw yuh before in my life,” he declared emphatically. “I don't know a darn thing about--anything that ever happened in an alley in the city of--oh, come on, old-timer; let's talk about the weather, or something safe!” After that the boys of the Flying U behaved very much as do children who have quarreled foolishly and are trying shamefacedly to re-establish friendly relations without the preliminary indignity of open repentance. They avoided meeting the velvet-eyed glances of Miguel, and at the same time they were plainly anxious to include him in their talk as if that had been their habit from the first. A difficult situation to meet, even with the fine aplomb of the Happy Family to ease the awkwardness. Later Miguel went unobtrusively down to the creek after his chaps; he did not get them, just then, but he stood for a long time hidden behind the willow-fringe, watching Pink and Irish feverishly combing out certain corkscrew ringlets, and dampening their combs in the creek to facilitate the process of straightening certain patches of rebellious frizzes. Miguel did not laugh aloud, as Big Medicine had done. He stood until he wearied of the sight, then lifted his shoulders in the gesture which may mean anything, smiled and went his way. Not until dusk did Andy get a private word with him. When he did find him alone, he pumped Miguel's hand up and down and afterward clutched at the manger for support, and came near strangling. Miguel leaned beside him and smiled to himself.