A passer-by would have come upon a picturesque scene on the banks of Rock Creek that night. The cook's fire, blazing high, was surrounded by the men off watch, squatted, seated, or reclining as they swapped stories and told jokes. The chuck wagon was magnified and made grotesque by the firelight and shadows, saddled horses tied to it or picketed a short distance away, and the flimsy rope corral running from wagon wheels to stakes driven in the ground, was ready to hold a change of mounts in case of a sudden need. In the distance was the bedded herd, lying on the top of a rise where it could catch any passing breeze, the cattle chewing their cuds and blowing and grunting contentedly. A yearling bummed among them, filled with the mischievous deviltry of youth, making life miserable for its elders as it stumbled and butted its erratic way. It left a fight or two in its wake and finally fled, abandoning all dignity when a crusty steer arose to chastise it. But the chip on its shoulder remained there until it tried to butt a calf from its warm bed, whereupon the indignant mother scrambled to all fours and sent the disturber on the run for safety. The calf was there because it bore no brand, which would be taken care of on the morrow. The bummer had no excuse to create any trouble over a warmed bed because the night was warm. Finally, the edge gone from its exuberant deviltry, it began to look for a place to sleep--and after barely escaping several thrashings it worked out of the herd and sought a place by itself, doubtless to ruminate upon the cruelties and indignities endured by yearlings. The four night riders of the first shift went slowly, lazily around the herd, keeping a score or more yards from it, singing and carrying on chanted conversations as they met and passed each other. Gone was the dust and turmoil of the day and in its place had come rest and quiet. Over all the crescent moon, nightly to grow fuller, worked its alchemy on earth and cattle, shedding its soft silvery light. The distant camp fire grew steadily lower and finally glowed like the end of a great cigar, winking as gentle breezes fanned its embers and passed on. Somewhere out on the silvery range a lonely coyote poured a burbling plaint to the moon and passed on like a shadow in search of food to stop the clamoring ache of an empty stomach, gradually approaching the winking fire, where choice titbits might perhaps be found. "I want a big chew of tobacco," chanted Gardner, as he drew nearer to Reilly, "An' I want it bad, for mine's all gone." "It allus is," sang Reilly. "Don't bother that spotted yearlin' over by them bushes. He's finally quit his bummin' an' has bedded down all by hisself outside th' herd. You'll know where he is even if you went blind. He's real friendly an' lonesome, an' likes to converse with everythin' that passes."