The two men strolled down the track for a short distance, and the Cowboy discovered a small colony of prairie dogs. Several of the comical little creatures were sitting on their hind legs on the mounds beside their holes ready to disappear at the least sign of danger. Occasionally one would run from one hole to another a short distance away, usually diving out of sight, to reappear again in a few moments when satisfied that there was no immediate cause for alarm. The Cowboy amused himself by listlessly throwing small stones at the little animals. After a few moments of this he turned to the Eastern man and said: "Say, I am goin' to take a little stroll over yonder towards that luxurious mansion and get a drink from the well. Want to go along?" "With pleasure," answered the Eastern man. The two strolled slowly towards the house, which was decidedly in need of repair. The fence surrounding it was broken down in many places, weeds and grass filled the little yard in which there were still evidences of some past attempts at ornamentation in the way of flower-beds, and the whole place gave evidence of poverty and lack of care. On the porch was seated a girl apparently between twelve and fourteen years of age. She was hugging an immense shaggy dog and crying as if her heart would break. "What's the matter, sis?" sympathetically inquired the Cowboy. "Oh, sir (sob), Jake's goin' to kill my Rover." "What for?" The sobs subsided a little and the girl looked up, wiping her eyes on her torn apron. "Why, he bited Jake because he tried to kiss me and I didn't--want him to--and they are goin' to come and kill him." "Who is goin' to come and kill him?" "The feller he bited--Jake." "There, don't cry, little un; seems to me the purp did the proper caper. What do you think, pardner?" "In my opinion," answered the Eastern man, "the dog's action was decidedly laudatory." "And yer think same as I do that the pup hadn't ought to be killed for doin' it?" "Decidedly not." "Say, sis, ain't yer got any friends to sort of stand off the feller as allows to do the killin'?" "No, sir, nobody except father, and he--drinks sometimes and don't care for Rover, and he says he don't want no trouble." "Ain't yer got no one else?" "No, sir; nobody but Rover. Mother's dead and I ain't got nobody but Rover. Oh, dear me!" The girl buried her face in the shaggy coat of her friend and sobbed. The Cowboy sat down on the step beside her; the dog eyed him inquiringly, but evidently decided he was a friend and wagged his tail slightly. "Don't cry, my girl; brace up, now; perhaps they won't kill him after all." "Oh, yes, they will. Jake is over in the saloon now; I saw him go in. He'll do it sure; he hates Rover." "May I speak to your lap-dog? Will he tear me up much if I pat him?" inquired the Cowboy. "I wouldn't fool with him, sir; Rover don't like strangers." The Cowboy snapped his fingers at the dog and called to him: "Come here, Rover."