Bud Shoop made a pretense of tightening a cinch on Sundown's pony, that he might "blush unseen," as it were. Presently Corliss appeared and motioned to Shoop. "How's the new cook doing?" he asked. "Fine!" Sundown retired modestly to the off-side of the pony. "Got a line on him already," said Shoop. "First thing, Chance, here, took to him. Then, next thing, he manufactures a batch of pies that ain't been matched on the Concho since she was a ranch. Then, next thing after that, Chance slips his collar and goes and bushes with the Bo--sleeps with him till this mornin'. And you can rope me for a parson if that walkin' wish-bone didn't get to ramblin' in his sleep last night and come out and take a _bath_ in the _drinkin_'-trough! He's got on them clothes I give him, this mornin'. Can you copper that?" "Bad dream, Bud." "You wait!" said the grinning foreman. "You watch him. Don't pay no 'tention to me." Corliss smiled. Shoop's many and devious methods of estimating character had their humorous angles. The rancher appreciated a joke quite as much as did any of his employees, but usually as a spectator and not a participant. Bud Shoop had served him well and faithfully, tiding over many a threatened quarrel among the men by a humorous suggestion or a seemingly impersonal anecdote anent disputes in general. So Corliss waited, meanwhile inspecting the ponies in the corral. He noticed a pinto with a saddle-gall and told Shoop to turn the horse out on the range. "It's one of Fadeaway's string," said Shoop. "I know it. Catch him up." Shoop, who felt that his opportunity to confirm his dream-like statement about Sundown's bathing, was slipping away, suddenly evolved a plan. He knew that the horses had all been watered. "Hey!" he called to Sundown, who stood gravely inspecting his own mount. "Come over here and make this cayuse drink. He won't for me." Shoop roped the horse and handed the rope to Sundown, who marched to the water-trough. The pony sniffed at the water and threw up his head. "I reckoned that was it!" said Shoop. "What?" queried Corliss, meanwhile watching Sundown's face. "Oh, some dam' coyote's been paddlin' in that trough again. No wonder the hosses won't drink this mornin'. I don't blame 'em." Sundown rolled a frightened eye and tried to look at everything but his companions. Corliss and Shoop exploded simultaneously. Slowly the light of understanding dawned, rose, and radiated in the dull red of the new cook's face. He was hurt and a bit angry. The anticipating and performing of his midnight ablutions had cost Slim a mighty struggle, mentally and otherwise. "If you think it's any early mornin' joke to take a wash-up in that there Chinese coffin--why, try her yourself, about midnight." Then he addressed Shoop singly. "If I was _you_, and you got kind of absent-minded and done likewise, and I seen _you_, do you think I'd go snitch to the boss? Nix, for it might set him to worryin'."