on　a　trot；　gradually　spreading　abroad　over　the　landscape；　losing
  their　integrity　as　a　herd。　　Some　of　the　slower　or　hungrier
  dropped　out　and　began　to　graze。　　Certain　of　the　more　wary
  disappeared　to　right　or　left。
  Now；　after　the　day's　work　was　practically　over；　we　had　our　first
  accident。　　The　horse　ridden　by　a　young　fellow　from　Dos　Cabesas
  slipped；　fell；　and　rolled　quite　over　his　rider。　　At　once　the
  animal　lunged　to　his　feet；　only　to　he　immediately　seized　by　the
  nearest　rider。　　But　the　Dos　Cabesas　man　lay　still；　his　arms　and
  legs　spread　abroad；　his　head　doubled　sideways　in　a　horribly
  suggestive　manner。　　We　hopped　off。　　Two　men　straightened　him　out；
  while　two　more　looked　carefully　over　the　indications　on　the
  ground。
  〃All　right；〃　sang　out　one　of　them；　〃the　horn　didn't　catch　him。〃
  He　pointed　to　the　indentation　left　by　the　pommel。　　Indeed　five
  minutes　brought　the　man　to　his　senses。　　He　complained　of　a　very
  twisted　back。　　Homer　set　one　of　the　men　in　after　the　bed…wagon；
  by　means　of　which　the　sufferer　was　shortly　transported　to　camp。
  By　the　end　of　the　week　he　was　again　in　the　saddle。　　How　men
  escape　from　this　common　accident　with　injuries　so　slight　has
  always　puzzled　me。　　The　horse　rolls　completely　over　his　rider；
  and　yet　it　seems　to　be　the　rarest　thing　in　the　world　for　the
  latter　to　be　either　killed　or　permanently　injured。
  Now　each　man　had　the　privilege　of　looking　through　the　J　H　cuts　to
  see　if　by　chance　steers　of　his　own　had　been　included　in　them。
  When　all　had　expressed　themselves　as　satisfied；　the　various　bands
  were　started　to　the　corrals。
  From　a　slight　eminence　where　I　had　paused　to　enjoy　the　evening　I
  looked　down　on　the　scene。　　The　three　herds；　separated　by　generous
  distance　one　from　the　other；　crawled　leisurely　along；　the　riders；
  their　hats　thrust　back；　lolled　in　their　saddles；　shouting
  conversation　to　each　other；　relaxing　after　the　day's　work；
  through　the　clouds　strong　shafts　of　light　belittled　the　living
  creatures；　threw　into　proportion　the　vastness　of　the　desert。
  CHAPTER　SEVEN
  A　CORNER　IN　HORSES
  It　was　dark　night。　　The　stay…herd　bellowed　frantically　from　one
  of　the　big　corrals；　the　cow…and…calf…herd　from　a　second。　　Already
  the　remuda；　driven　in　from　the　open　plains；　scattered　about　the
  thousand　acres　of　pasture。　　Away　from　the　conveniences　of　fence
  and　corral；　men　would　have　had　to　patrol　all　night。　　Now；
  however；　everyone　was　gathered　about　the　camp　fire。
  Probably　forty　cowboys　were　in　the　group；　representing　all　types；
  from　old　John；　who　had　been　in　the　business　forty　years；　and　had
  punched　from　the　Rio　Grande　to　the　Pacific；　to　the　Kid；　who　would
  have　given　his　chance　of　salvation　if　he　could　have　been　taken
  for　ten　years　older　than　he　was。　　At　the　moment　Jed　Parker　was
  holding　forth　to　his　friend　Johnny　Stone　in　reference　to　another
  old　crony　who　had　that　evening　joined　the　round…up。
  〃Johnny；〃　inquired　Jed　with　elaborate　gravity；　and　entirely
  ignoring　the　presence　of　the　subject　of　conversation；　〃what　is
  that　thing　just　beyond　the　fire；　and　where　did　it　come　from？〃
  Johnny　Stone　squinted　to　make　sure。
  〃That？〃　he　replied。　　〃Oh；　this　evenin'　the　dogs　see　something　run
  down　a　hole；　and　they　dug　it　out；　and　that's　what　they　got。〃
  The　newcomer　grinned。
  〃The　trouble　with　you　fellows；〃　he　proffered　〃is　that　you're　so
  plumb　alkalied　you　don't　know　the　real　thing　when　you　see　it。〃
  〃That's　right；〃　supplemented　Windy　Bill　drily。　〃HE　come　from　New
  York。〃
  〃No！〃　cried　Jed。　〃You　don't　say　so？　　Did　he　come　in　one　box　or　in
  two？〃
  Under　cover　of　the　laugh；　the　newcomer　made　a　raid　on　the　dutch
  ovens　and　pails。　　Having　filled　his　plate；　he　squatted　on　his
  heels　and　fell　to　his　belated　meal。　　He　was　a　tall；　slab…sided
  individual；　with　a　lean；　leathery　face；　a　sweeping　white
  moustache；　and　a　grave　and　sardonic　eye。　　His　leather　chaps　were
  plain　and　worn；　and　his　hat　had　been　fashioned　by　time　and
  wear　into　much　individuality。　　I　was　not　surprised　to　hear　him
  nicknamed　Sacatone　Bill。
  〃Just　ask　him　how　he　got　that　game　foot；〃　suggested　Johnny　Stone
  to　me　in　an　undertone；　so；　of　course；　I　did　not。
  Later　someone　told　me　that　the　lameness　resulted　from　his　refusal
  of　an　urgent　invitation　to　return　across　a　river。　　Mr。　Sacatone
  Bill　happened　not　to　be　riding　his　own　horse　at　the　time。
  The　Cattleman　dropped　down　beside　me　a　moment　later。
  〃I　wish；〃　said　he　in　a　low　voice；　〃we　could　get　that　fellow
  talking。　　He　is　a　queer　one。　　Pretty　well　educated　apparently。
  Claims　to　be　writing　a　book　of　memoirs。　　Sometimes　he　will　open
  up　in　good　shape；　and　sometimes　he　will　not。　　It　does　no　good　to
  ask　him　direct；　and　he　is　as　shy　as　an　old　crow　when　you　try　to
  lead　him　up　to　a　subject。　　We　must　just　lie　low　and　trust　to
  Providence。〃
  A　man　was　playing　on　the　mouth　organ。　　He　played　excellently
  well；　with　all　sorts　of　variations　and　frills。　　We　smoked　in
  silence。　　The　deep　rumble　of　the　cattle　filled　the　air　with　its
  diapason。　　Always　the　shrill　coyotes　raved　out　in　the　mesquite。
  Sacatone　Bill　had　finished　his　meal；　and　had　gone　to　sit　by　Jed
  Parker；　his　old　friend。　　They　talked　together　low…voiced。　　The
  evening　grew；　and　the　eastern　sky　silvered　over　the　mountains　in
  anticipation　of　the　moon。
  Sacatone　Bill　suddenly　threw　back　his　head　and　laughed。
  〃Reminds　me　f　the　time　I　went　to　Colorado！〃　　he　cried。
  〃He's　off！〃　whispered　the　Cattleman。
  A　dead　silence　fell　on　the　circle。　　Everybody　shifted　position
  the　better　to　listen　to　the　story　of　Sacatone　Bill。
  About　ten　year　ago　I　got　plumb　sick　of　punchin'　cows　around　my
  part　of　the　country。　　She　hadn't　rained　since　Noah；　and　I'd
  forgot　what　water　outside　a　pail　or　a　trough　looked　like。　　So　I
  scouted　around　inside　of　me　to　see　what　part　of　the　world　I'd
  jump　to；　and　as　I　seemed　to　know　as　little　of　Colorado　and　minin'
  as　anything　else；　I　made　up　the　pint　of　bean　soup　I　call　my
  brains　to　go　there。　　So　I　catches　me　a　buyer　at　Henson　and　turns
  over　my　pore　little　bunch　of　cattle　and　prepared　to　fly。　　The
  last　day　I　hauled　up　about　twenty　good　buckets　of　water　and　threw
  her　up　against　the　cabin。　　My　buyer　was　settin'　his　hoss　waitin'
  for　me　to　get　ready。　　He　didn't　say　nothin'　until　we'd　got　down
  about　ten　mile　or　so。
  〃Mr。　Hicks；〃　says　he；　hesitatin'　like；　〃I　find　it　a　good　rule　in
  this　country　not　to　overlook　other　folks'　plays；　but　I'd　take　it
  mighty　kind　if　you'd　explain　those　actions　of　yours　with　the
  pails　of　water。〃
  〃Mr。　Jones；〃　says　I；　〃it's　very　simple。　　I　built　that　shack　five
  year　ago；and　it's　never　rained　since。　　I　just　wanted　to　settle　in
  my　mind　whether　or　not　that　damn　roof　leaked。〃
  So　I　quit　Arizona；　and　in　about　a　week　I　see　my　reflection　in　the
  winders　of　a　little　place　called　Cyanide　in　the　Colorado
  mountains。
  Fellows；　she　was　a　bird。　　They　wasn't　a　pony　in　sight；　nor　a
  squar'　foot　of　land　that　wasn't　either　street　or　straight　up。　　It
  made　me　plumb　lonesome　for　a　country　where　you　could　see　a　long
  ways　even　if　you　didn't　see　much。　　And　this　early　in　the　evenin'
  they　wasn't　hardly　anybody　in　the　streets　at　all。
  I　took　a　look　at　them　dark；　gloomy；　old　mountains；　and　a　sniff　at
  a　breeze　that　would　have　frozen　the　whiskers　of　hope；　and　I　made
  a　dive　for　the　nearest　lit　winder。　　They　was　a　sign　over　it　that
  just　said：
  THIS　IS　A　SALOON
  I　was　glad　they　labelled　her。　　I'd　never　have　known　it。　They　had
  a　fifteen…year　old　kid　tendin'　bar；　no　games　goin'；　and　not　a
  soul　in　the　place。
  〃Sorry　to　disturb　your　repose；　bub；〃　says　I；　〃but　see　if　you　can
  sort　out　any　rye　among　them　collections　of　sassapariller　of
  yours。〃
  I　took　a　drink；　and　then　another　to　keep　it　companyI　was
  beginnin'　to　sympathise　with　anythin'　lonesome。　　Then　I　kind　of
  sauntered　out　to　the　back　room　where　the　hurdy…gurdy　ought　to　be。
  Sure　enough；　there　was　a　girl　settin'　on　the　pianner　stool；
  another　in　a　chair；　and　a　nice　shiny　Jew　drummer　danglin'　his
  feet　from　a　table。　　They　looked　up　when　they　see　me　come　in；　and
  went　right　on　talkin'。
  〃Hello；　girls！〃　says　I。
  At　that　they　stopped　talkin'　complete。
  〃How's　tricks？〃　says　I。
  〃Who's　your　woolly　friend？〃　the　shiny　Jew　asks　of　the　girls。
  I　looked　at　him　a　minute；　but　I　see　he'd　been　raised　a　pet；　and
  then；　too；　I　was　so　hungry　for　sassiety　I　was　willin'　to　pass　a
  bet　or　two。
  〃Don't　you　ADMIRE　these　cow　gents？〃　snickers　one　of　the　girls。
  〃Play　somethin'；　sister；〃　says　I　to　the　one　at　the　pianner。
  She　just　grinned　at　me。
  〃Interdooce　me；〃　says　the　drummer　in　a　kind　of　a　way　that　made
  them　all　laugh　a　heap。
  〃Give　us　a　tune；〃　I　begs；　tryin'　to　be　jolly；　too。
  〃She　don't　know　any　pieces；〃　says　the　Jew。
  〃Don't　you？〃　I　asks　pretty　sharp。