"Oh, I am used to all hours," he said. "Anyway, I 've got to keep an
eye on things."

"And I am sorry to put you out," she added.

"Don't mention it. I put myself out. I could let you have a lantern
if you need it. There 's a piece of candle and some matches on the top
bunk. It's down near the foot."

"Oh, that will be all the light I need. Good-night."

"Good-night, Miss Janet,"--saluting her by raising his hat to the side
of his head and then bringing it down with a large sweep.

When the door had closed upon her and the shack showed light at all its
cracks, he turned and went to the corral, closely followed by Shep. He
took a look at the two sheep, each confined in one of the narrow little
prison-pens along with the lamb whose property it was. The lambs were
evidently full of milk; they were sleeping. Seeing that all was well,
he got an old discarded saddle out of the shed, threw it on his
shoulder, and descended to the general level to find himself a
buffalo-wallow. Having picked one out he kicked a longhorn skull away
from its vicinity, threw the saddle down at its edge, and lined the
grassy interior with his slicker. Then he sat down in the middle,
crushing the slicker deep into the spring bloom. Here he sat a while.

It is not easy for the human mind, constituted as it is, to pick out a
bed on a prairie. It offers such a large field of choice, and no
grounds for preference. Steve had long ago formed the habit of
sleeping in a wallow, always to be found within a short distance, and,
when found, possessing the advantage of being a "place." Such a
place--a bowl-like depression--was made by the bison who pawed away the
tough sward to get at mother earth, and then wore it deep and circular
as he tried to roll on his unwieldy hump. Steve Brown, anywhere
between Texas and Montana, had often slept in the "same old place,"
though in a different locality, and for some reason he was never so
content--either because it was really a "place," or because he liked a
bed that sagged in the middle, or because (which is more likely) he
found a certain atmosphere of sleep in one of these places so long ago
dedicated to rest and comfort. Which hollow is all that is now left of
the buffalo--a vacancy.

He sat down in the middle, his attention fixed upon the shack, which
now existed as a sort of picture of itself drawn in lines of light.
When suddenly it was erased from the night, he pressed the slicker down