“Waal, nobody hearn nuthin’ mo’ ’bout’n it fur a few years, till one day when I war herdin’ thar the cattle war all fund, runned mighty nigh ter death, an’ a-bellerin’ an’ a-cavortin’ ez ef they war ’witched. An’ one o’ the herders, Ike Stern, kem in thar ter the cabin an’ ’lowed he hed seen a lot o’ strange cattle ’mongst our’n, an’ a herder ridin’ ’mongst ’em. ’Twar misty, bein’ a rainy spell, an’ he lost the herder in the fog. Waal, we jes’ ’lowed ’twar somebody from Piomingo Bald huntin’ fur strays, or somebody from ’cross the line. So we jes’ went on fryin’ the meat, an’ bakin’ the hoe-cake, an’ settin’ roun’ the fire; but this hyar man kept on complainin’ he couldn’t holp seein’ that thar herder. An’ wunst in a while he’d hold his hand afore his eyes. An’ one o’ the old herders,—Rob Carrick ’twar,—he jes’ axed him what that herder looked like. An’ Ike jes’ sot out ter tell. An’ the coffee war a-bilin’, an’ the meat a-sizzlin’, an’ Carrick war a-squattin’ afore the fire a-listenin’ an’ a-turnin’ the meat, till all of a suddint he lept up an’ drapped his knife, yellin’, ‘My God! ye lyin’ buzzard, don’t ye set thar a-tellin’ me ez Josh Nixon hev kem all the way from hell ter herd on Thunderhead! Don’t ye do it! Don’t ye do it!’ An’ Ike Stern,—he looked like he seen Death that minit; his eyes war like coals o’ fire, an’ he trembled all over,—he jes’ said, ‘I see I hev been visited by the devil, fur I hev been gin ter view a dead man, apin’ the motions o’ life.’” Doaks pulled at his pipe for a few moments, his eyes still absently fixed on the purple peak shimmering in the gauzy white mists and the yellow sunshine. “I never shell furgit that night. Thar war three men thar: one hed herded along o’ Josh on Thunderhead, but Ike Stern had never seen him in life, an’ me not at all. Waal, sir! the rain kem down on the roof, an’ the wind war like the tromplin’ o’ a million o’ herds o’ wild cattle. We ’lowed we hed never hearn sech a plungin’ o’ the yellemints. The night war ez dark ez a wolf’s mouth, ’cept when it lightened, an’ then we could see we war wropped in the clouds. An’ through all them crackin’ peals them men talked ’bout that thar harnt o’ a Herder on Thunderhead. Waal, nex’ mornin’ Stern jes’ gin up his job, an’ went down the mounting ter Piomingo Cove. An’ he stayed thar, too. They ’lowed he done no work fur a year an’ a day. His time war withered an’ his mind seemed darkened.” “He ’pears ter hev toler’ble good sense now,” said Mink, striving against credulity. “Yes, he hev spryed up powerful.” “Waal,” said Mink, constrained by the fascination of the supernatural, “I hev hearn ez Carrick seen the Herder, too.”