The Indian uttered some indistinguishable epithet, and the next instant there came a crash as the offending timepiece was hurled violently against the wall. In silence Glass shoved his unsteady victim ahead of him out into the dawn. In the east the sun was rising amid a riotous splendor. At any other time, under any other conditions, Speed could not have restrained his admiration, for the whole world was a glorious sparkling panoply of color. The tumbled masses of the hills were blazing at their crests, the valleys dark and cool. In the east the limb of the sun was just rearing itself, the air was heady with the scent of growing things, and so clear that the distances were magically shortened; a certain wild, intoxicating exuberance surcharged the out-of- doors. But to the stiff and wearied Eastern lad it was all cruelly mocking. When he halted listlessly to view its beauties he was goaded forward, ever forward, faster and faster, until finally, amid protests and sighs and complaining joints, he broke into a heavy, flat-footed jog-trot that jolted the artistic sense entirely out of him. CHAPTER XII It was usually a procedure not alone of difficulty but of diplomacy as well, to rout out the ranch-hands of the Flying Heart without engendering hostile relations that might bear fruit during the day. This morning Still Bill Stover had more than his customary share of trouble, for they seemed pessimistic. Carara, for instance, breathed a Spanish oath as he combed his hair, and when the foreman inquired the reason, replied: "I don' sleep good. I been t'ink mebbe I lose my saddle on this footrace." Cloudy, whose toilet was much less intricate, grunted from the shadows: "I thought I heard that phonograph all night." "It was the Natif Son singin' to his gal," explained one of the hands. "He's gettin' on my nerves, too. If he wasn't a friend of the boss, I'd sure take a surcingle and abate him considerable." "Vat you t'ank? I dream' Mr. Speed is ron avay an' broke his leg," volunteered Murphy, the Swede, whose name New Mexico had shortened from Bjorth Kjelliser. "Run away?" "Ya-as! I dream' he's out for little ron ven piece of noosepaper blow up in his face an' mak' him ron avay, yust same as horse. He snort an' yump, an' ron till he step in prairie-dog hole and broke his leg." "Strange!" said Willie. "What?" "My rest was fitful and disturbed and peopled by strange fancies a whole lot. I dreamp' he _throwed_ the race!" A chorus of oaths from the bunks. "What did you do?" inquired Stover. "I woke up, all of a tremble, with a gun in each hand." "I don't take no stock in dreams whatever," said some one. "Well, I'm the last person in the world to be superstitious," Still Bill observed, "but I've had sim'lar visions lately." "Maybe it's a om-en." "What is a om-en?" Carara inquired. "A om-en," explained Willie, "is a kind of a nut. Salted om-ens is served at swell restaurants with the soup."