But you're
lookin' sort of sleepy, stranger?"
"I am," answered Nash.
"Well, if you'd seen that show you wouldn't be thinkin' of sleep. Not
for some time."
"Maybe not, but the point is I didn't see it. D'you mind if I turn in on
that bunk over there?"
"Help yourself," said the boy. "What time d'you want me to wake you up?"
"Never mind; I wake up automatic. S'long, Bud."
He stretched out on the blankets and was instantly asleep.
CHAPTER XIII
A TOUCH OF CRIMSON
At the end of three hours he awoke as sharply as though an alarm were
clamouring at his ear. There was no elaborate preparation for renewed
activities. A single yawn and stretch and he was again on his feet.
Since the boy was not in sight he cooked himself an enormous meal,
devoured it, and went out to the mustang.
The roan greeted him with a volley from both heels that narrowly missed
the head of Nash, but the cowpuncher merely smiled tolerantly.
"Feelin' fit agin, eh, damn your soul?" he said genially, and picking up
a bit of board, fallen from the side of the shed, he smote the mustang
mightily along the ribs.
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