od from their
offsprings' mangled ears and mooed resentfully, but the big
white-faced steer stood in brutish content on the salting grounds and
gazed after the town herd thoughtfully.

A bunch of burros gathered about the doorway of the cabin, snooping
for bacon rinds; the hounds leaned their heavy jowls upon his knees
and gazed up worshipfully into their master's face; and as the sun
dipped down toward the rim of the mighty cliffs that shut him in, the
lord of Hell's Hip Pocket broke into the chorus of an ancient song:

"Oh, _o_-ver the prairies, and _o_-ver the mountains,
And _o_-ver the prairies, and _o_-ver the mountains,
And _o_-ver the prairies, and _o_-ver the mountains,
I'll go till I find me a home."

CHAPTER VIII

A YEAR'S MAIL

The beef herd was safely delivered at Bender, the feeders disposed of
at Moroni, and the checks sent on to the absentee owner, who did not
know a steer from a stag; the _rodeo_ hands were paid off and
successfully launched upon their big drunk; bills were paid and the
Summer's supplies ordered in, and then at last the superintendent and
_rodeo_ boss settled down to a little domesticity.

Since the day that Hardy had declined to drink with him Creede had
quietly taken to water, and he planted a bag of his accumulated wages
in a corner of the mud floor, to see, as he facetiously expressed it,
if it would grow. Mr. Bill Johnson had also saved his "cow money" from
Black Tex and banked it with Hardy, who had a little cache of his own,
as well. With their finances thus nicely disposed of the two partners
swept the floor, cleaned up the cooking dishes, farmed out their
laundry to a squaw, and set their house in order generally. They were
just greasing up their _reatas_ for a run after the wild horses of
Bronco Mesa when Rafael pulled in with a wagon-load of supplies and
destroyed their peaceful life.

It was late when the grinding and hammering of wheels upon the
boulders of the creek-bed announced his near approach and Creede went
out to help unload the provisions. A few minutes later he stepped into
the room where Hardy was busily cooking and stood across the table
from him with his hands behind his back, grinning mischievously.

"Rufe," he said, "you've got a girl."

Hardy looked up quickly and caught the significance of his pose, but
he did not smile. He did not even show an interest in the play.

"How do you figure that out?" he asked,