ty again had a cigar. He had parted with Pedro
for forty dollars, a striped Mexican blanket, and a pair of spurs.
Undressing over in the bunk house, he said to the Virginian, "I'll sure
buy Pedro back off him just as soon as ever I rustle some cash." The
Virginian grunted. He was thinking he should have to travel hard to
get the horses to the Judge by the 30th; and below that thought lay his
aching disappointment and his longing for Bear Creek.

In the early dawn Shorty sat up among his blankets on the floor of the
bunk house and saw the various sleepers coiled or sprawled in their
beds; their breathing had not yet grown restless at the nearing of day.
He stepped to the door carefully, and saw the crowding blackbirds begin
their walk and chatter in the mud of the littered and trodden corrals.
From beyond among the cotton woods, came continually the smooth
unemphatic sound of the doves answering each other invisibly; and
against the empty ridge of the river-bluff lay the moon, no longer
shining, for there was established a new light through the sky. Pedro
stood in the pasture close to the bars. The cowboy slowly closed the
door behind him, and sitting down on the step, drew his money out and
idly handled it, taking no comfort just then from its possession. Then
he put it back, and after dragging on his boots, crossed to the pasture,
and held a last talk with his pony, brushing the cakes of mud from his
hide where he had rolled, and passing a lingering hand over his mane. As
the sounds of the morning came increasingly from tree and plain, Shorty
glanced back to see that no one was yet out of the cabin, and then put
his arms round the horse's neck, laying his head against him. For a
moment the cowboy's insignificant face was exalted by the emotion he
would never have let others see. He hugged tight this animal, who was
dearer to his heart than anybody in the world.

"Good-by, Pedro," he said--"good-by." Pedro looked for bread.

"No," said his master, sorrowfully, "not any more. Yu' know well I'd
give it yu' if I had it. You and me didn't figure on this, did we,
Pedro? Good-by!"

He hugged his pony again, and got as far as the bars of the pasture, but
returned once more. "Good-by, my little horse, my dear horse, my little,
little Pedro," he said, as his tears wet the pony's neck. Then he
wiped them with his hand, and got himself back to the bunk house. After
breakfast he and his belongings departed to Drybone, and Pedro