or at the niggers. It did not occur to him that they might
be shouting for him, until from another direction he heard Ezra's
unmistakable, booming voice. Ezra sang a thunderous baritone when the
niggers lifted up their voices in song around their camp-fire, and he
could be heard for half a mile when he called in real earnest. He was
calling now, and Buddy, stopping to listen, fancied that he heard his
name. A little farther on, he was sure of it.

"OOO-EE! Whah y'all, Buddy? OOO-EEE!"

"I'm a-comin'," Buddy shrilled impatiently. "What y' all want?"

His piping voice did not carry to Ezra, who kept on shouting. The
radiant purple and red and gold above him deepened, darkened. The whole
wild expanse of half-barren land became suddenly a place of unearthly
beauty that dulled to the shadows of dusk. Buddy trudged on, keeping
to the deep-worn buffalo trails which the herd had followed and scored
afresh with their hoofs. He could not miss his way-not Buddy, son of Bob
Birnie, owner of the Tomahawk outfit-but his legs were growing pretty
tired, and he was so hungry that he could have sat down on the ground
and cried with the gnawing food-call of his empty little stomach.

He could hear other voices shouting at intervals now, but Ezra's voice
was the loudest and the closest, and it seemed to Buddy that Ezra never
once stopped calling. Twice Buddy called back that he was a-comin', but
Ezra shouted just the same: "OOO-EE! WHAH Y' ALL, BUDDY? OOO-EE!"

Imperceptibly dusk deepened to darkness. A gust of anger swept Buddy's
soul because he was tired, because he was hungry and he was yet a long
way from the camp, but chiefly because Ezra persisted in calling after
Buddy had several times answered. He heard someone whom he recognized
as Frank Davis, but by this time he was so angry that he would not say a
word, though he was tempted to ask Frank to take him up on his horse and
let him ride to camp. He heard others-and once the beat of hoofs came
quite close. But there was a wide streak of Scotch stubbornness in
Buddy--along with several other Scotch streaks--and he continued his
stumbling progress, dragging the snake by the tail, his other hand
holding fast the horned toad.

His heart jumped up and almost choked him when first saw the three
twinkles on the ground which knew were not stars but camp-fires.

Quite unexpectedly he trudged into the firelight where Step-and-a-Half
was stirring delectable things in the iron pots and s