rested. But that ain't
what I'm gettin' at. Come one day, about two year after I'd been
monkeyin' with learnin' her her lessons, when I thinks to break her to
ride. I got shet of the idea of sellin' her and was goin' to keep her
myself. The boys was lookin' for to see me get piled, always figurin'
a pet hoss was worse to break than a bronc. She did some fussin', but
she never bucked--never pitched a move. Thinks I, I sure got a winner.
Next day she was gone. Never seen her after that. Trailed all over
the range, but she sure vamoosed. And nobody never seen her after
that. She sure made a dent in my feelin's."

Sundown sat up blinking. "I reckon that's the difference between a
hoss and a dog," he said, slowly. "Now, a hoss and me ain't what you'd
call a nacheral combination. And a hoss gets away and don't come back.
But a dog comes back every time, if he can. 'Most any hoss will stay
where the feedin' is good, but a dog won't. He wants to be where his
boss is."

"And that there Chance is with the boss," said the cowboy, gesturing
toward the north. "Seen him foller him down the trail."

Sundown nodded. The cowboy departed, swaggering away in the dusk.

Just before Sundown was called to take his turn with the night-shift, a
lean, brown shape tore through the camp, upsetting a pot of frijoles
and otherwise disturbing the peace and order of the culinary department.

"Coyote!" shouted Wingle, vainly reaching for the gun that he had given
to Sundown.

"Coyote nothin'!" said a puncher, laughing. "It's the Killer come back
hot-foot to find his pardner."

Chance bounded into the lean-to: it was empty. He sniffed at the place
where his bed had once been, found Sundown's tracks and followed them
toward the river. Sundown was on his knees pawing over something that
looked very much like a torn and frayed saddle-blanket. Chance
volleyed into him, biting playfully at his sleeve, and whining.

Sundown jumped to his feet. He stood speechless. Then a slow grin
crept to his face. "Gee Gosh!" he said, softly. "Gee Gosh! It's you!"

Chance lay down panting. He had come far and fast. Sundown gathered
up the blanket and pan, rose and marched to the shack. "I was airin'
'em out against your comin' back," he explained, untruthfully. The
fact was that he could not bear to see the empty bed in the lean-to and
had hidden it in the bushes.

The dog watched him spread the blanket, but would not lie down.
Ins