eeks come
back. For him they indicated the pink of physical condition. He became
the acknowledged strong man of Sonoma Valley, the heaviest lifter and
hardest winded among a husky race of farmer folk. And once a year he
celebrated his birthday in the old-fashioned frontier way, challenging
all the valley to come up the hill to the ranch and be put on its back.
And a fair portion of the valley responded, brought the women-folk and
children along, and picnicked for the day.

At first, when in need of ready cash, he had followed Ferguson's
example of working at day's labor; but he was not long in gravitating
to a form of work that was more stimulating and more satisfying, and
that allowed him even more time for Dede and the ranch and the
perpetual riding through the hills. Having been challenged by the
blacksmith, in a spirit of banter, to attempt the breaking of a certain
incorrigible colt, he succeeded so signally as to earn quite a
reputation as a horse-breaker. And soon he was able to earn whatever
money he desired at this, to him, agreeable work.

A sugar king, whose breeding farm and training stables were at
Caliente, three miles away, sent for him in time of need, and, before
the year was out, offered him the management of the stables. But
Daylight smiled and shook his head. Furthermore, he refused to
undertake the breaking of as many animals as were offered. "I'm sure
not going to die from overwork," he assured Dede; and he accepted such
work only when he had to have money. Later, he fenced off a small run
in the pasture, where, from time to time, he took in a limited number
of incorrigibles.

"We've got the ranch and each other," he told his wife, "and I'd sooner
ride with you to Hood Mountain any day than earn forty dollars. You
can't buy sunsets, and loving wives, and cool spring water, and such
folderols, with forty dollars; and forty million dollars can't buy back
for me one day that I didn't ride with you to Hood Mountain."

His life was eminently wholesome and natural. Early to bed, he slept
like an infant and was up with the dawn. Always with something to do,
and with a thousand little things that enticed but did not clamor, he
was himself never overdone. Nevertheless, there were times when both
he and Dede were not above confessing tiredness at bedtime after
seventy or eighty miles in the saddle.

Sometimes, when he had accumulated a little money, and when the season
favored, they would mo