Bud laughed.  “Have a good time, boys.”  And he moved on.

“That was one for you—­and yore piano,” said his companion.

“Mebby so.  We’ll let that rest.  I’m lookin’ for a friend of mine.”  And Shoop edged along the crowd.

The man that Shoop was looking for was standing alone beneath the shade of an acacia, watching the crowd.  He was a tall, heavy man, dark-featured, with a silver-gray beard and brown eyes that seemed to twinkle with amusement even when his lips were grim.  The giant sheepman of the south country was known to every one on account of his great physique and his immense holdings in land and sheep.  Shoop talked with him for a few minutes.  Together they strolled back to the crowd.

The Starr boys were still pitching dollars when Shoop and the sheepman approached.

“Who’s top-hand in this game?” queried Shoop genially.

“High Chin—­and at any game you got,” said a Starr man.

“Well, now!”

“Any game you got.”

Shoop gazed about, saw Lorry, and beckoned to him.

“Here’s my candidate,” said Shoop.  “He kep’ out of the ropin’ so as to give you fellas a chance.”  And he turned to Lorry.  “Give him a whirl,” he said, indicating High Chin.  “It’s worth a couple of dollars just to find out how good he is.”

High Chin surveyed the circle of faces, poised a dollar, and threw it.  Lorry threw and lost.  High Chin pocketed the two dollars.  The Starr boys grinned.  High Chin threw again.  The dollar slid close to the line.  Lorry shied his dollar and knocked the other’s coin several feet away from the line.

“Try him ag’in,” said Shoop.

Lorry tossed again.  His dollar dropped on the line.  High Chin threw.  His coin clinked squarely on Lorry’s, but spun off, leaving it undisturbed.

“You break even—­at that game,” said Shoop.  “It was a good shot.”

“Folks been sayin’ the same of you,” said High Chin, turning to the supervisor.

“Oh, folks will talk.  They’re made that way,” chuckled Shoop.

“Well, I got ten bucks that says High Chin can outshoot any hombre in this crowd,” said a Starr boy.

“I’m right glad you got it,” said Shoop pleasantly.

“Meanin’ I stand to lose it, eh?”

“Oh, gosh, no!  You’re steppin’ on your bridle.  I was congratulatin’ you on your wealth.”

“I ain’t seen that you been flashin’ any money,” said the cowboy.

“Nope.  That ain’t what money’s made for.  And I never bet on a sure thing.  Ain’t no fun in that.”

The giant sheepman, whose movements were as deliberate as the sun’s, slowly reached in his pocket and drew out a leather pouch.  He counted out forty dollars in gold-pieces.

“I’ll lay it even,” he said, his eyes twinkling, “that Bud Shoop can outshoot any man in the crowd.”

“I’ll take ten of that,” said the Starr man.

“And I’ll take ten,” said another cowboy.