s of position with even mind, but the
jeering remarks of the mourners as they slid past triumphantly could not
be endured, and the next moment the three teams were abreast in a race
as for dear life. The corpse-driver, having the advantage of the beaten
track, soon left the other two behind running neck and neck for second
place, which was captured finally by Hi and maintained to the grave
side, in spite of many attempts on the part of the X L's. The whole
proceeding, however, was considered quite improper, and at Latour's,
that night, after full and bibulous discussion, it was agreed that the
corpse-driver fairly distributed the blame. "For his part," he said, "he
knew he hadn't ought to make no corp git any such move on, but he wasn't
goin' to see that there corp take second place at his own funeral.
Not if he could help it. And as for the others, he thought that the
pall-bearers had a blanked sight more to do with the plantin' than them
giddy mourners."

But when they gathered at the Meredith ranch to carry out The Pilot
to his grave it was felt that the Foothill Country was called to a new
experience. They were all there. The men from the Porcupine and from
beyond the Fort, the Police with the Inspector in command, all the
farmers for twenty miles around, and of course all the ranchers and
cowboys of the Swan Creek country. There was no effort at repression.
There was no need, for in the cowboys, for the first time in their
experience, there was no heart for fun. And as they rode up and hitched
their horses to the fence, or drove their sleighs into the yard and
took off the bells, there was no loud-voiced salutation, no guying nor
chaffing, but with silent nod they took their places in the crowd about
the door or passed into the kitchen.

The men from the Porcupine could not quite understand the gloomy
silence. It was something unprecedented in a country where men laughed
all care to scorn and saluted death with a nod. But they were quick to
read signs, and with characteristic courtesy they fell in with the mood
they could not understand. There is no man living so quick to feel your
mood, and so ready to adapt himself to it, as is the true Westerner.

This was the day of the cowboy's grief. To the rest of the community
The Pilot was preacher; to them he was comrade and friend. They had been
slow to admit him to their confidence, but steadily he had won his place
with them, till within the last few months they had