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After all, there was something to do beyond sit in a saddle. And he soon found that even that was not always play. For the roan which he had selected fought at having the saddle thrown upon his back, so that Toothy had to lend a helping hand. And when the cinch was drawn tight he fought at being mounted.
A voice the soft, cadenced voice of the negro addressed him. "Lookin' fo' de sailors' club rooms?" Tyler turned. A toothy, middle-aged, kindly negro in a uniform and red cap. Tyler smiled friendlily. Here was a human he could feel at ease with. Texas was full of just such faithful, friendly types of negro. "Reckon I am, uncle. Show me the way?" Red Cap chuckled and led the way.
"A coral ring set with pearls would be finer, don't you think?" said Guy, gravely. Tommy grinned and said that that was a toothy remark! Lucy blushed, and said laughingly, that she thought Mrs Foster's idea better, whereupon the widow waxed vainglorious, and tried to suggest some improvements.
Rawhide and Toothy were "cutting them out" as best they could, urging the steers toward the gate, trying to keep the cows to the far side of the inclosure. But again and again a quick-footed heifer pressed her slender body against that of some big, long-horned steer, running with him. That she did not pass through the gate was Conniston's lookout. They were not sluggish-blooded brutes.
Toothy rode swiftly into the knot of horses, scattered them, and, as they shot across the corral, sent his rope flying out over their heads. The long loop widened into a circle, hissed through the air, and settled about the neck of a little pinto mare, tightening as it fell. A quick turn about the horn of his saddle, and Toothy set up his own horse.
As in the most recent case of that taking but extremely terrible little person with the toothy, photographic smile, Miss Lessie Lavigne of the Jollity Theatre, the affair with whom might be counted, it was to be hoped, as the last furrow of a heavy sowing of wild oats. As this would be a match d'égal
The horses in it bunched up, quick-eyed, alert, at the far side of the inclosure. Rawhide Jones and Toothy as they rode were taking down the ropes coiled upon their saddles. "We're goin' to change hosses here," Rawhide said, shortly. "Pick out one for yourse'f, Conniston." They had ridden into the corral, their ropes in their hands, each man dragging a wide loop at his right side.
His real reason for not turning up to house-fielding was that he considered himself above such things, and Firby-Smith a toothy weed. Could he give this excuse? There was no arguing against the fact that the head of the house was a toothy weed; but he felt a firm conviction that it would not be politic to say so. Happy thought: over-slept himself. He mentioned this. "Over-slept yourself!
She laughed, a happy gurgle of a laugh which made a man want to laugh with her without knowing the cause of her merriment. "Lonesome Pete has brought me news, and Toothy, and even your friend Brayley! Do you know," mischief lurking in the depths of her eyes above the assumed gravity of her face, "I think that the boys are actually beginning to approve of you." "Flattering, I must say!"
One man chuckled aloud, Toothy giggled like a girl, and the others grinned broadly. For a moment Brayley's face darkened ominously. Then his frown passed, and he turned about in his chair toward the door. "Hello, Con," he said, quietly. "Hello, Brayley," Conniston answered, in the same tone. Brayley's eyes went back to the men at the table, shifting quickly from one to another.
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