Whereupon
Spillbeans trotted off toward the water.
Carley sat up before Glenn and Flo reached her. Manifestly they were
concerned about her, but both were ready to burst with laughter. Carley
knew she was not hurt and she was so glad to be off the mustang that, on
the moment, she could almost have laughed herself.
"That beast is well named," she said. "He spilled me, all right. And I
presume I resembled a sack of beans."
"Carley--you're--not hurt?" asked Glenn, choking, as he helped her up.
"Not physically. But my feelings are."
Then Glenn let out a hearty howl of mirth, which was seconded by a loud
guffaw from Hutter. Flo, however, appeared to be able to restrain whatever
she felt. To Carley she looked queer.
"Pitch! You called it that," said Carley.
"Oh, he didn't really pitch. He just humped up a few times," replied Flo,
and then when she saw how Carley was going to take it she burst into a
merry peal of laughter. Charley, the sheep herder was grinning, and some of
the other men turned away with shaking shoulders.
"Laugh, you wild and woolly Westerners!" ejaculated Carley. "It must have
been funny. I hope I can be a good sport. . . . But I bet you I ride him
tomorrow.
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