with
the meat, bread, and canned corn, and squatted on our heels. The food
was good, and we ate hugely in silence. When we could hold no more we
lit pipes. Then we had leisure to notice that the storm cloud was
mounting in a portentous silence to the zenith, quenching the brilliant
desert stars.

"Rolls" were scattered everywhere. A roll includes a cowboy's bed and
all of his personal belongings. When the outfit includes a bed-wagon,
the roll assumes bulky proportions.

As soon as we had come to a definite conclusion that it was going to
rain, we deserted the camp fire and went rustling for our blankets. At
the end of ten minutes every bed was safe within the doors of the
abandoned adobe ranch house, each owner recumbent on the floor claim he
had pre-empted, and every man hoping fervently that he had guessed
right as to the location of leaks.

Ordinarily we had depended on the light of camp fires, so now
artificial illumination lacked. Each man was indicated by the
alternately glowing and waning lozenge of his cigarette fire.
Occasionally someone struck a match, revealing for a moment high-lights
on bronzed countenances, and the silhouette of a shading hand. Voices
spoke disembodied. As the conversation developed, we gradually
recognised the membership of our own roomful. I had forgotten to state
that the ranch house included four chambers. Outside, the rain roared
with Arizona ferocity. Inside, men congratulated themselves, or swore
as leaks developed and localised.

Naturally we talked first of stampedes. Cows and bears are the two
great cattle-country topics. Then we had a mouth-organ solo or two,
which naturally led on to songs. My turn came. I struck up the first
verse of a sailor chantey as possessing at least the interest of
novelty:

Oh, once we were a-sailing, a-sailing were we,
Blow high, blow low, what care we;
And we were a-sailing to see what we could see,
Down on the coast of the High Barbaree.

I had just gone so far when I was brought up short by a tremendous oath
behind me. At the same instant a match flared. I turned to face a
stranger holding the little light above his head, and peering with
fiery intentness over the group sprawled about the floor.

He was evidently just in from the storm. His dripping hat lay at his
feet. A shock of straight, close-clipped vigorous hair stood up grey
above his seamed forehead. Bushy iron-grey eyebrows drawn close
togeth