er in on
Lake, spontaneous, and evince our disfavor with a rope. But Taylor
says, 'No.' He allows the Land Office won't hold him morally responsible
for the sinful idiocy of a homesick spotted hawse that's otherwise
reliable.

"He's got one more guess comin'. There ain't no sympathies to machinery.
Your intentions may be strictly honorable, but if you get your hand
caught in the cogs, off it goes, regardless of how handy it is for
flankin' calves, holdin' nails, and such things. 'Absent over six
months. Entry canceled. Contestant is allowed thirty days' prior right
to file. Next.'

"That's the way that decision'll read. It ain't come yet, but it's due
soon.

"This here Felix looks at it just like the old man, only
different--though he ain't makin' no statements for publication. He
come here young, and having acquired the fixed habit of riskin' his
neck, regular, for one dollar per each and every diem, shooin' in the
reluctant steer, or a fool hawse pirouettin' across the pinnacles
with a nosebag on--or, mebbee, just for fun--why, natural, he don't
see why life is so sweet or peace so dear as to put up with any damn
foolishness, as Pat Henry used to say when the boys called on him for
a few remarks. He's a some serious-minded boy, that night-hawk, and
if signs is any indications, he's fixin' to take an appeal under the
Winchester Act. I ain't no seventh son of a son-of-a-gun, but my
prognostications are that he presently removes Lake to another and,
we trust, a better world."

"Good thing, too," grunted Headlight. "This Lake person is sure-lee a
muddy pool."

"Shet your fool head," said Pringle amiably. "You may be on the jury.
I'm going to seek my virtuous couch. Glad we don't have to bed no
cattle, _viva voce_, this night."

"Ain't he the Latin scholar?" said Headlight admiringly. "They blow
about that wire Julius Caesar sent the Associated Press, but old man
Pringle done him up for levity and precision when he wrote us the
account of his visit to the Denver carnival. Ever hear about it,
Sagittarius?"

"No," said Leo. "What did he say?"

"Hic--hock--hike!"

II

Escondido, half-way of the desert, is designed on simple lines. The
railroad hauls water in tank-cars from Dog Canyon. There is one depot,
one section-house, and one combination post-office-hotel-store-saloon-
stage-station, kept by Ma Sanders and Pappy Sanders, in about the order
mentioned. Also, one glorious green cottonwood, one pampered ros