the canon; and when Lawler
and Shorty, riding side by side, emerged from the cool gloom, they saw
the cattle descending a shallow gorge, going toward a wide slope which
dipped into a basin of mammoth size.

Lawler knew the place; he had ridden this trail many times in the years
before the coming of the railroad; and when he reached the crest of the
slope and looked out into the hazy, slumbering distance, he was not
surprised, though his eyes quickened with appreciation for its beauty.

Thirty miles of virgin land lay before him, basking in the white
sunlight--a green-brown bowl through which flowed a river that shimmered
like silver. The dark bases of mountains loomed above the basin at the
eastern edge--a serrated range with lofty peaks that glowed white in the
blue of the sky. South and north were other mountains--somber, purple
giants with pine-clad slopes and gleaming peaks--majestic, immutable.

Looking down from where he sat on Red King, Lawler could see the head of
the herd far down the ever-broadening trail. The leaders were so far
away that they seemed to be mere dots--black dots moving in an emerald
lake.

The cattle, too, had glimpsed the alluring green that spread before
them; and at a little distance from Lawler and several of the other men
they were running, eager for the descent.

"She's a whopper, ain't she?" said Shorty's voice at Lawler's side.
"I've seen a heap of this man's country, but never nothin' like that. I
reckon if the Lord had spread her out a little mite further she'd have
took in mighty near the whole earth. It's mighty plain he wasn't
skimpin' things none, anyway, when he made this here little hollow."

He grinned as he rode, and then waved a sarcastic hand toward the
cattle.

"Look at 'em runnin'! You'd think, havin' projected around this here
country for a year or so, they'd be better judges. They're thinkin'
they'll be buryin' their mugs in that right pretty grass in about
fifteen seconds, judgin' from the way they're hittin' the breeze toward
it. An' it'll take them half a day to get down there."

Shorty was a better judge of distance than the cattle. For it was
afternoon when the last of the herd reached the level floor of the
basin. They spread out, to graze industriously; the men not caring,
knowing they would not stray far from such a wealth of grass.

By the time the chuck-wagon had come to a halt and the cook had
clambered stiffly from his seat to prepare the noonday