oll
over an' hit the hay!"

He turned abruptly and went back to his discarded hand. And Greek
Conniston, the son of William Conniston, of Wall Street, lay back upon
his bunk and thought deeply of many things.

CHAPTER VII

The next day the gates of a new world opened for Greek Conniston. And
it was a world which he liked little enough. The cook, rattling his
pots and pans and stove-lids, woke him long before it was four
o'clock. One by one the men tumbled out, dressed swiftly, washed and
combed their hair at the low bench by the door, and then sat about
smoking or wandered away to the stable to attend to their horses. At
four o'clock the table was set, coffee and biscuits and steaks sending
out their odors to float together upon the morning air. Conniston got
up with the others and washed at the common basin, contenting himself
with running his fingers through his hair rather than to use the one
broken-toothed comb. One or two of the boys said a short "Mornin'" to
him, but the most of them seemed to see him no more than they had when
he had entered the bunk-house last evening. Lonesome Pete nodded to
him and, when they all sat down, indicated a chair at his side for him
to sit in.

There was a great bruise upon his forehead and a cut where the muzzle
of Brayley's gun had struck him, but he was surprised to find that
both dizziness and faintness had passed entirely and that he was
feeling little inconvenience from the blow which last night had
stretched him out unconscious.

He ate with the others in silence, making no reference to Brayley,
noting that they gave no evidence of remembering the trouble of last
night. The fare was coarse, and he was not used to such dishes for
breakfast any more than he was used to getting up at four o'clock to
eat them. But he was hungry, and the coffee and the biscuits were
good. After breakfast he found himself outside of the bunk-house with
Lonesome Pete.

"When Brayley's away," the cowboy was saying, over his
cigarette-making, "Rawhide Jones takes his place. An' Rawhide says
you're to come with me an' give me a hand over to the cross-fence. I
guess we'd better be makin' a start, huh?"

Conniston went with him to the stable. "We ain't brought in any extry
hosses," Pete was explaining, as they came into one of the corrals.
"You'll ride your own to-day?"

In one of the stalls Conniston found the horse he had ridden from
Indian Creek, with his saddle, bridle, spurs, and