s as
says they ain't no romantics left in this here world! Huh! Some of
them writin' folks oughter jest trail my smoke for a week, instead o'
settin' in clubs and drinkin' high-balls and expectin' them high-balls
to put 'em wise to real life! Huh! A fella's got to sweat it out
himself. The kind of romantics that comes in a bottle ain't the real
thing. Pickles is all right, but they ain't cucumbers, nohow. Wisht I
had one--and some salt. The stories them guys write is like pickles,
jest two kinds of flavor, sweet and sour. Now, when I write me life's
history she'll be a cucumber sliced thin with a few of them little red
chiles to kind o' give the right kick, and mebby a leetle onion
representin' me sentiment, and salt to draw out the proper taste, and
'bout three drops o' vinegar standin' for hard luck, and the hull thing
fixed tasty-like on a lettuce leaf, the crinkles representin' the
mountings and valleys of this here world, and me name on the cover in
red with gold edges. Gee Gosh!"

The creak of the saddle, the tinkle of his spurs, the springy stride of
the horse furnished a truly pastoral accompaniment to Sundown's
"romantics."

As he rode down a draw, he came suddenly upon two coyotes playing like
puppies in the sun. He reined up and watched them, and his heart
warmed to their antics. "Now, 'most any fella ridin' range would
nacherally pull his gun and bling at 'em. What for? Search me! They
ain't botherin' nobody. Jest playin'. Guess 'most any animals like to
play if they wasn't scared o' gettin' shot all the time. Funny how
some folks got to kill everything they see runnin' wild. What's the
use? Now, mebby them coyotes is a pa and ma thinkin' o' settin' up
ranchin' and raisin' alfalfa and young ones. Or mebby he's just
a-courtin' her and showin' how he can run and jump better than any
other coyote she ever seen. I dunno. There they go. Guess they seen
me. Say! but they are jest floatin' across the mesa--they ain't
runnin'. Goin' easy, like their legs belonged to somebody else and
they was jest keepin' up with 'em. So-long, folks! Here's hopin' you
get settled on that coyote-ranch all right!"

Thus far on his journey Sundown had enjoyed the pleasing local flavor
of the morning and his imaginings. The vinegar, which was to represent
"hard luck," had not as yet been added to the salad.

As he ascended the gentle slope of the draw he heard a quick, blunt
sound, as though some one ha