"Oh My," replied the stableman. "Th' rest of th' name is Cayenne."
"'Suffer little children!'" exclaimed Tex. "Who named him that, an
why?"
"I reckon Williams did, because he's peppery an' red."
"Good heavens!" ejaculated Tex. He thought a moment. "Huh! Prophet!
Mecca! Mohammed!" he muttered. Suddenly seeing a great light, he
flipped his sombrero into the air, caught and balanced it on his nose
when it came down, sidestepped, and as it fell, punched it across the
stable. Turning gravely he shook hands with the surprised stableman,
slapped him on the shoulder and burst out laughing. "Where'n blazes did
he dig 'em up? He don't know what one of them names means; _There was
the Veil through which I might not see_. Come, John: _Oh, many a Cup of
this forbidden Wine must drown the memory of that insolence!_ Wait till
I get my hat: _Better be jocund with the fruitful Grape than sadden
after none, or bitter, Fruit._"
Carney gave them a nonchalant welcome and displayed little interest in
them until Graves told him about the horse.
"Th' roan, eh?" exclaimed the saloonkeeper. "I'll shore find a place
for it, but I'm afraid it'll miss th' beatin's. There's a closet built
across one corner of th' stable: I'll give you a key to it, Mr. Jones.
It'll be handy for yore trappin's."
After a few rounds Tex went out, mounted bareback and, leaving Graves in
front of the stable, rode to the hotel to get his saddle. Soon
thereafter he dismounted at the station and smiled at the agent.
"'Richard is himself again,'" he chuckled, affectionately patting Omar.
"An' I still have my kingdom."
"He looks fit for a king to ride," replied Jerry.
"He'd honor a king. How's th' hen ranch comin' along? Got th' fence up
yet?"
"Yes; Murphy just finished it. That looks like Williams' roan."
"It was. I won it at poker. I could feel in my fingers that I was
goin' to be lucky. Hello!" he exclaimed, looking at a box across the
track. On it were painted irregular, concentric circles. "Looks like
it might be a target."