Judge Henry wants them
by the 30th. Well, this is the 24th, and time enough yet."

"This is the 27th," said the Virginian, briefly.

That made a difference! Not so easy to reach Sunk Creek in good order by
the 30th! Balaam had drifted three sunrises behind the progress of the
month. Days look alike, and often lose their very names in the quiet
depths of Cattle Land. The horses were not even here at the ranch.
Balaam was ready to be very disagreeable now. Suddenly he perceived the
date of the Judge's letter. He held it out to the Virginian, and struck
the paper.

"What's your idea in bringing this here two weeks late?" he said.

Now, when he had struck that paper, Shorty looked at the Virginian. But
nothing happened beyond a certain change of light in the Southerner's
eyes. And when the Southerner spoke, it was with his usual gentleness
and civility. He explained that the letter had been put in his hands
just now by Shorty.

"Oh," said Balaam. He looked at Shorty. How had he come to be a
messenger? "You working for the Sunk Creek outfit again?" said he.

"No," said Shorty.

Balaam turned to the Virginian again. "How do you expect me to get those
horses to Sunk Creek by the 30th?"

The Virginian levelled a lazy eye on Balaam. "I ain' doin' any
expecting," said he. His native dialect was on top to-day. "The Judge
has friends goin' to arrive from New Yawk for a trip across the Basin,"
he added. "The hawsses are for them."

Balaam grunted with displeasure, and thought of the sixty or seventy
days since he had told the Judge he would return the horses at once.
He looked across at Shorty seated in the shade, and through his uneasy
thoughts his instinct irrelevantly noted what a good pony the youth
rode. It was the same animal he had seen once or twice before. But
something must be done. The Judge's horses were far out on the big
range, and must be found and driven in, which would take certainly the
rest of this day, possibly part of the next.

Balaam called to one of his men and gave some sharp orders, emphasizing
details, and enjoining haste, while the Virginian leaned slightly
against his horse, with one arm over the saddle, hearing and
understanding, but not smiling outwardly. The man departed to saddle up
for his search on the big range, and Balaam resumed the unhitching of
his team.

"So you're not working for the Sunk Creek outfit now?" he inquired of
Shorty. He ignored the Virginian. "Working for the Goose