Money couldn't buy him from me," replied
the tall boy, curtly.
It was not Bob Archer's habit to speak in this strain to anyone; but
there seemed to be a something connected with Peg Grant that irritated
him. The manner of the other was so overbearing as to appear almost
rude. He had had his own way a long time now; and thus far no one
connected with the big ranch owned by his father had arisen to take him
down.
"Oh! well, there are plenty of horses just as good, I guess," Peg went
on; "and some people don't appreciate the value of money, anyway. But
see here, Frank, you let your eyebrows travel up when I mentioned the
fact that I'd graduated from the tenderfoot class. I could see that
you doubted my words. Now, I'm going to tell you something that will
surprise you a heap. Are you ready for a shock?"
"Oh; I can brace myself for nearly anything, Peg," replied Frank,
easily; "so suppose you tell us your great news. Have you entered for
the endurance race at the annual cowboy meet next month; or do you
expect to take the medal for riding bucking broncos?"
"Any ordinary range rider might do that, even if he lost out," Peg went
on; "but my game is along different lines; see? I'm on my way right
now to run down the mystery of Thunder Mountain! I understand that for
years it's puzzled the whole country to know what makes that roaring
sound every now and then. Many cowboys couldn't be hired to spend a
single night on that mountain.
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