l, 'stead of reinin' to one
side an' givin' trouble a chance to get past. Gee Gosh! If I'd 'a'
knowed what I know now--afore I hit this country--but I'm here.
Anyhow, they's nothin' wrong with the country. It's the folks, like it
'most always is. Reckon I ought to keep on buildin' fence this
mornin', but that there peace idea 's got to singin' in me head. I'll
jest saddle up Pill and ride over and tell ole man Loring that I'm
takin' care of his sheep charitable what's been hangin' around here
since 'Sandro passed over. Mebby that'll kind o' start the talk. Then
I can slip him a couple of ideas 'bout how neighbors ought to act.
Huh! Me nussin' them sheep for two weeks and more, an' me just dyin'
for a leetle taste o' mutton. Mebby his herders was scared to come for
'em, I dunno."

Sundown was established at the water-hole. Corliss had sent a team to
Antelope for provisions, implements, and fencing. Meanwhile, Sundown
had been industrious, not alone because he felt the necessity for
something to occupy his time, but that he wanted to forget the tragedy
he had so recently witnessed. And he had dreams of a more
companionable future which included Mexican dishes served hot, evenings
of blissful indolence accompanied by melody, and a Senora who would
sing "Linda Rosa, Adios!" which would be the "piece de resistance" of
his pastoral menu.

The "tame cow," which he had so ardently longed for, now grazed
soulfully in a temporary enclosure out on the mesa. Two young and
sprightly black pigs prospected the confines of their littered
hermitage. Four gaunt hens and a more or less dilapidated rooster
stalked about the yard, no longer afraid of the watchful Chance, who
had previously introduced himself to the rooster without the formality
of Sundown's presence as mediator. Sundown was proud of his chickens.
The cow, however, had been, at first, rather a disappointment to him.
Milk had not heretofore been a conspicuous portion of Sundown's diet,
nor was he versed in the art of obtaining it except over the counter in
tins. With due formality and some trepidation he had placed a pail
beneath "Gentle Annie" as he called her, and had waited patiently. So
had Gentle Annie, munching a reflective cud, and Sundown, in a
metaphorical sense, doing likewise. He had walked around the cow
inspecting her with an anxious and critical eye. She seemed healthful
and voluptuously contented. Yet no milk came. Bud Shoop, having at