Elbert, standing very straight, turned away to the doorway that last moment before the lamp was lighted, and there he beheld his Crimson Foam--the whole West over the horses’ heads, shot with Indian red. It was worth the beginning at Heaslep’s, the struggle with Fortitude, the leather-store and even the years of Eastern schooling. Only he mustn’t fall to telling how joyous he was. Meanwhile Slim and the little fat man were having words. The former turned to Cal with his wronged look: ‘What you goin’ to do with a fellow like this? He keeps hornin’ in with English. Says I called him a horse. Says I mean caballero, not caballo. Wants to know if we’ll have our chickens boiled or fried.’ ‘Quickest for me,’ said Cal. ‘Only tell him I ain’t broke off with beans.’ After supper, Cal suggested that they go out to the corral to see if the horses were making out as well as they were. Elbert sat back against a stone. The straw smelled dry and clean; the sky was close and velvety; the three horses were grinding sun-parched corn, a soothing sound; everything expansive and exactly right, only a persistent tendency to be reminiscent, which Elbert checked. Finally at his right, a chuckle from Cal: ‘Slim--’ ‘Yep?’ ‘For a tenderfoot, I’m sayin’ our young friend Elbert holds his fire-water aloft some successful, don’t you think?’ Slim allowed that, and Elbert’s face turned away to the dark, so his exultation might not be seen. He felt on the eve of a mysterious graduation ceremony.... * * * * * Toward mid-afternoon two days later they entered the pueblo of Nacimiento, and two thin dogs skulked across the road ahead of their horses. An old man, beyond human speech, was sitting in the sun against a wall, and a little farther on, another. That seemed the end of life, as they paused before a fonda marked ‘El Cajon.’ The sandy road at this point was beaten with many pony tracks. ‘Looks as if a troop of cavalry had halted here,’ Slim said in a hushed tone. A moment of rich promise to Elbert, except that he wished he didn’t feel so played out. They entered the deserted wine-room. Slim drew a finger over the bar-board and left his mark in the dust. A scared lame boy finally came out from the shadows behind. No mistake about his gestures; they were urged to move on. ‘What do you think we’re up against?’ Cal inquired. ‘Yellow fever or just war?’ ‘Can’t say,’ said Slim, ‘only far from home--far from home.’ ‘We might keep on going to Burton’s oil wells at San Pasquali. Can’t be more than eighteen miles from here, but it would take the edge off the horses; also what little nape of Elbert’s, as ain’t wore off already.’ ‘Oh, I’m all right,’ Elbert hastened to say, ‘whatever you think best.’