n'-trough, at night . . .! I reckon that there Hobo ain't right
in his head."

Sundown dreamed that he was chasing an elusive rabbit over endless
wastes of sand and greasewood. With him ran a phantom dog, a lean,
shaggy shape that raced tirelessly. When Sundown wanted to give up the
dream-hunt and rest, the dog would urge him on with whimperings and
short, explosive barks of impatience. Presently the dream-dog ran
ahead and disappeared beyond a rise. Sundown sank to the desert and
slept. He dreamed within his dream that the dog was curled beside him.
He put out his hand and stroked the dog's head. Presently a side of
the box-stall took outline. A ray of sunlight filtered in; sunlight
flecked with fine golden dust. The straw rustled at his side and he
sat up quickly. Chance, stretching himself and yawning, showed his
long, white fangs in an elaborated dog-smile. "Gee Gosh!" exclaimed
Sundown, eyeing the dog sideways, "so it's you, eh? You wasn't foolin'
me, then, when you said we'd be pals?"

Chance settled down in the straw again and sighed contentedly.

From the corral came the sound of horses running. The boys were
catching up their ponies for the day's work. Chance pricked his ears.
"I guess it's up to me and you to move lively," said Sundown,
stretching and groaning. "We're sleepin' late, account of them
midnight abolitions."

He rose and limped to the doorway. Chance followed him, evidently
quite uninterested in the activities outside. Would this queer,
ungainly man-thing saddle a horse and ride with the others, or would he
now depart on foot, taking the trail to Antelope? Chance knew quite as
well as did the men that something unusual was in the air. Hi Wingle,
the cook, had returned unexpectedly that night. Chance had listened
gravely while his master had told Bud Shoop that "the outfit" would
move over to Bald Knoll in the morning. Then the dog had barked and
capered about, anticipating a break in the monotony of ranch-life.

Sundown hurried to the cook-room. Chance at his heels. Hi Wingle was
already installed in his old quarters, but he greeted Sundown heartily,
and set him to work helping.

After breakfast, Bud Shoop, in heavy wing chaps and trailing his spurs,
swaggered up to Sundown. "How you makin' it this mornin'?" he
inquired. There was a note of humorous good-fellowship in his voice
that did not escape Sundown.

"Doin' fine without crutches," replied Sundown, grinning.