ing fierce. I had my
doubts about Sandy when we hired him. He always did look to me like he
was built for herding sheep more than he was for cooking." This was in
August.

"I have been thinking seriously of getting some one else in his
place," Dill answered, in his quiet way. "There isn't very much to do
here; if some one came who would take an interest and cook just what
we wanted--I will own I have no taste for that peculiar mixture which
Sandy calls 'Mulligan,' and I have frequently told him so. Yet he
insists upon serving it twice a day. He says it uses up the scraps;
but since it is never eaten, I cannot see wherein lies the economy."

"Well, I'd can him and hunt up a fresh one," Billy repeated
emphatically, looking with disapproval into his cup.

"I will say that I have already taken steps toward getting one on whom
I believe I can depend," said Dill, and turned the subject.

That was the only warning Billy had of what was to come. Indeed, there
was nothing in the conversation to prepare him even in the slightest
degree for what happened when he galloped up to the corral late one
afternoon in October. It was the season of frosty mornings and of
languorous, smoke-veiled afternoons, when summer has grown weary of
resistance and winter is growing bolder in his advances, and the two
have met in a passion-warmed embrace. Billy had ridden far with
his riders and the trailing wagons, in the zest of his young
responsibility sweeping the range to its farthest boundary of river
or mountain. They were not through yet, but they had swung back within
riding distance of the home ranch and Billy had come in for nearly a
month's accumulation of mail and to see how Dill was getting on.

He was tired and dusty and hungry enough to eat the fringes off his
chaps. He came to the ground without any spring to his muscles and
walked stiffly to the stable door, leading his horse by the bridle
reins. He meant to turn him loose in the stable, which was likely
to be empty, and shut the door upon him until he himself had eaten
something. The door was open and he went in unthinkingly, seeing
nothing in the gloom. It was his horse which snorted and settled
back on the reins and otherwise professed his reluctance to enter the
place.

Charming Billy, as was consistent with his hunger and his weariness
and the general mood of him, "cussed" rather fluently and jerked the
horse forward a step or two before he saw some one poised hesitatingly