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When Clay came home that evening he stopped abruptly at the door. The lady of his dreams was setting the table in the dining-room and chatting gayly with an invisible Kitty in the kitchen. Johnnie was hovering about her explaining some snapshots of Clay he had gathered. "Tha's the ol' horn-toad winnin' the ropin' championship at Tucson. He sure stepped some that day," the Runt boasted.
The wall was there, but it was mental, and it was his mind that halted before it, astonished. What had touched Tex off so suddenly when Johnny had flung out that meaningless taunt? Meaningless to Johnny but how about Tex? "Gosh! He took it like a guilty conscience," said Johnny. "What the horn-toad has Tex been doin'?"
The pain ceased and he floated away into a sea of space. Bob Hart waited till his friend had disappeared into the house before he moved. "Thought he'd run it over me, so I'd roost here on the roof, did he? Well, I'm after the ol' horn-toad full jump," the puncher murmured, a gay grin on his good-looking face.
This was like a breath of honest-to-God Arizona. The door opened, and out of it came a man and a slim young woman. Both of them were dressed for riding, she in the latest togs of the town, he in a well-cut sack suit and high tan boots. Johnnie threw up his hat and gave a yell. "You blamed old horn-toad! Might 'a' knowed you was all right!
"What I know about these here fancy city rules ain't sufficient to give a horn-toad a headache but it's a darn sight more'n I care," Casey declaimed hotly. "I never was asked what I thought of them tin signs you stick up on the end of a telegraft pole, to tell folks when to go an' when to quit goin'. Mebby it's all right fer these here city drivers "
"And the other fella there, with ears like the barndoor in a wind, he's jest nacherally a horn-toad that likes whiskey and would jest as soon knife his mother as he would eat a rattlesnake for supper, eh?" And Pete smiled engagingly. "Si. It is to laugh." "You sabe whiskey?" The Mexican shook his head. "You sabe dam' fool?" Pete's manner was serious as though seeking information.
"It seem like the Senorita Mora is sing that song to me. Mebbe she knows I'm set out 'ere on cactus an' listen to her. Ah, I love that Senorita ver' much." The little man with the glasses began to swear in his high falsetto. His ear had caught the phonograph operator in another musical mistake. "That horn-toad let Mrs. Melby die again to-night," said he.
Daylight showed between them when they crossed the line. Chiquito had been outrun by a speedier horse. Hart came up to his friend grinning. "Well, you old horn-toad, we got no kick comin'. Chiquito run a mighty pretty race. Only trouble was his laigs wasn't long enough." The owner of the pony nodded, a lump in his throat.
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