“I can’t be sure. I made her eleven fifty.” Nabours grumbled. “It’s a start, no more. Go back and help the other boys, Dalhart. There’s a big holding yon way, about five mile toward the hills, besides this one. Bring ’em in.” Del Williams rode to the cook fire and had a tin cup of coffee before he roped a fresh horse and changed his saddle. Before leaving he turned to Nabours. “Was any of our boys off north, about three mile, Jim?” he asked. “I don’t know. The run was mostly east.” “Well, I seen sever’l men riding over towards the hills where I was at, about sunup.” Nabours growled his own suspicions. “Well, it might of been worse,” went on Williams. “I seen fifty head piled in one arroyo. I don’t know how many more there may be, further on; but the boys are gethering a good many at the aidge of the pecan bottoms where the creek runs. Golly-hemlock! We ain’t half made the herd yet! The boys’ll be bringing ’em in.” “Now, Sinker!” The foreman turned as the boy horse wrangler came up, grinning diffidently. “Reg’lar vaquero, eh, hide pants and all?” “Del said I could have his leggins,” the boy replied, blushing vividly. “Now, my pants was tore, and that there point man has got on my necktie. But please kain’t I leave my horses and go help round up? My horses won’t go fur.” “Huh! Want to break in and be a full cow hand, eh? Your job’s on the remuda. But you can go ef you don’t stay over a hour, like yore maw used to say.” The boy sang very loud as he rode off. He hoped she had seen the sprouting down on his cheek. “I shore know what I’ll do,” he said to himself. “After this, nights, I’ll spread down, her side the camp. I’ll sleep the neardest of anybody to her, so’s’t I kin keep watch.” * * * * * Dust and noise, harbingers of more cattle coming in, twice more called Nabours and Dalhart to their tally stands. “Well, anyhow, we got over twenty-five hundred head right now, and more in sight. Wait till Sinker and Sanchez comes in with their drag. Ef we get over thirty-five hunderd, that’s big enough for a herd to drive good. What’s a few cows? We can comb the whole country by to-morrer. They was too full to run fur, but they fanned on us.” Nabours, under the influence of rest and coffee, began to relax. “I’ll go over to Miss Taisie’s camp afore long,” said he, “and tell her we ain’t broke yet. “But say, Mr. Dalhart, tell me”—he cast a quizzical look at the other’s rather spick-and-span appearance in contrast to his own—“was you maybe going to church? And you might let me know ef you put bear’s grease on your whiskers too.” Dalhart, unmoved, stroked his luxuriant beard. “Nem-mind,” said he. “What’s a man withouten a good baird? Kain’t no woman git away from a baird. Now, I riz whiskers sence I was twenty, and I allus noticed, ever I swep’ my baird acrost a gal’s face she was shore mine.”