road behind him. He looked back. One of the neighbor
boys, Bill Symonds, was riding furiously down the hill. The boy turned
quickly about in the seat as if he had not seen Bill and tried to hurry
the horses. What did Bill want, anyway? It was like him to blunder along
when he wasn't wanted! His big, greasy face shaded by the long hair
falling unkempt over his forehead had always made the boy dislike Bill.
He tightened the reins.

"Hey, Frank, wait a minute!" Bill slid awkwardly from the colt's back.

The boy twisted the reins about the levers and turned in the seat.

"How are you, Bill," he answered without animation.

Bill tied the colt, a bay, to the willows.

"Well, what do you think of my new colt?" He came closer and lounged
forward against the fence. "I broke him in myself--all alone, too! Now,
that was a job, Lord! You ought t' seen him buckin' an' standin' on his
hind legs!"

They were silent for a moment. Bill amused himself by flinging clods
at the colt, which jumped wildly each time one struck him, his body
quivering, his eyes white and distended.

After a few clods Bill turned to the boy.

"I guess maybe I'll be leavin' soon."

The boy looked up quickly.

"Yep. I'm goin' off to my brother's ranch in Dakota. I'm gettin' tired
of the work here--it's too hard. It's work, work, work all the time with
a little while for eatin' and sleepin'. All summer you c'n work your
head off and then in winter you can lay off for a couple of months and
don't know what to do."

The boy looked out over the fields. Even Bill could go away. The heavy,
flabby cheeks, from which the small eyes peered inquisitively, disgusted
the boy. Bill picked up another bit of turf and threw it so that the
colt jumped wildly, pulling the young willows almost to the ground.

The boy turned to Bill, his face flushed.

"Say--if you want to stay around here you got to cut out firing stones
at that colt. You'll never get 'im tame that way--you thick-headed
fool!"

Bill stood quiet for a moment. The boy saw an expression of incredulous
surprise on Bill's face. Then it became brick-red. He did not wait for
Bill to answer but started the horses.

When he looked back, Bill was riding away over the top of the hill, his
body swaying with the rhythm of the gallop. The boy was glad that Bill
was angry. He didn't want people around. And besides, why did Bill have
a chance to go away? His eyes grew hot.

The morning passed slowly. When final