nlight a rusted stove. He
walked back to the gateway and stood gazing at the sign. He peered
round helplessly. Then a slow grin illumined his face. "Why," he
exclaimed, "it's--it's a joke. Reckon the proprietor must be out
huntin' up trade. And accordin' to that he won't be back direct."

He wandered about the place like a stray cat in a strange attic,
timorous and curious. Ordinarily he would have considered himself
fortunate. The house offered shelter and seclusion. There was clear
cold water to drink and a stove on which to cook. As he thought of the
stove the latitude and longitude of the "joke" dawned upon him with
full significance. He drank at the water-hole and, gathering a few
sticks, built a fire. From his blankets he took a tin can, drew a wad
of newspaper from it, and made coffee. Then he cast about for
something to eat. "Now, if I was a cow--" he began, when he suddenly
remembered the rabbit. "Reckon he's got relations hoppin' around in
them bushes." He picked up a stick and started for the gate.

Not far from the ranch he saw a rabbit crouched beneath a clump of
brush. He flung his stick and missed. The rabbit ran to another bush
and stopped. Encouraged by the little animal's nonchalance, he dashed
after it with a wild and startling whoop. The rabbit circled the brush
and set off at right angles to his pursuer's course. Sundown made the
turn, but it was "on one wheel" so to speak. His foot caught in a
prairie-dog hole and he dove headlong with an exclamation that sounded
as much like "Whump!" as anything else. He uttered another and less
forced exclamation when he discovered in the tangle of brush that had
broken his fall, another rabbit that had not survived his sudden
visitation. He picked up the limp, furry shape. "Asleep at the
switch," he said. "He ain't much bigger than a whisper, but he's
breakfast."

Rabbit, fried on a stove-lid, makes a pretty satisfying meal when
eating ceases to be a pleasure and becomes a necessity. Sundown wisely
reserved a portion of his kill for future consumption.

As the morning grew warmer, he fell asleep in the shade of the
ranch-house. Late in the afternoon he wakened, went into the house and
made coffee. After the coffee he came out, rolled a cigarette, and sat
smoking and gazing out across the afternoon mesas. "I feel it comin',"
he said to himself. "And it's a good one, so I guess I'll put her in
me book."

He rummaged in his blan