Jake came in, muttering something about lights and supper, to retreat silently at the curt dismissal. The long shadows stole into the room, enveloping the brooding figure, and deepened into dark. The time was come and Buck arose and went out to his horse. With his hand on the picket he paused and listened. Across the Jill a broad moon was beginning to cast its light and from the same direction, a long way off, came the sound of singing. The singer was coming toward him and Buck stepped into the house again to await his arrival. He might be the bearer of some message. While he paced restlessly the singing died down and in a few minutes the squeaking of a vehicle caught his ear. He wondered who cared to drive over that trail when there were so many good saddle horses to be had for the asking and he started toward the door to see. Suddenly he stopped as if shot and gripped his hat with all his strength as another song came to his ears. He doubted his senses and feared he was going crazy, hoping against hope that he heard aright. Who in Montana could know that song! "’Th’ cows go grazin’ o’er th’ lea— Pore Whiskey Bill, pore Whiskey Bill. An’ achin’ thoughts pour in on me Of Whiskey Bill. Th’ sheriff up an’ found his stride, Bill’s soul went shootin’ down th’ slide— How are things o’er th’ Great Divide, Oh, Whiskey Bill?’ "Hello th’ house! Hey, Buck! Buck! _O_, Buck! Whoa, blame you—think I’m a fool tenderfoot? Hey, Buck! BUCK!" Buck leaped to the door in one great bound and ran toward the creeping buckboard, yelling like an Indian. The bunk-house door flew open and the men tumbled through it, guns in hand, and sprinted toward the point of trouble. Bow-Wow led and close upon his heels ran Whitby, with Murray a close third. When the leader got near enough he saw two men wrestling near a buckboard and he manoeuvred so as to insert himself into the fracas at the first opportunity. Then he snorted and backed off in profound astonishment, colliding with the eager Englishman, to the pain of both. The wrestlers were not wrestling but hugging; and a woman in the buckboard was laughing with delight. Bow-Wow shook his head as if to clear it and began to slip back toward the bunk-house. This was against all his teachings and he would have no part in it. The idea of two cowmen hugging each other! Whitby strolled after and overtook the muttering puncher. "I fancy that’s one of those Texans he ’s been talking about; or, rather, two of them. Perhaps we shall see some frontier law up here now—and God knows it is time." Slow Jack veered off and swore in his throat. "_Texas_ law, huh? We ’ll send him back where he come from, in a box!" he growled.