“Naw,” said Joe, “that wasn’t it. The bleedin’ was from the outside. He jest run so fast that the wind jest naturally peeled all the hide off his nose, and he had to keep it tied up for about ten days till he growed some more skin.” “I bet a hoss and saddle,” said Red, “that he couldn’t of turned old man Coffey’s bull like that. That brute had speed. One time old man Coffey shipped out a train-load of cattle from where he was ranchin’ on the Lapan Flat; and this here bull decides he wants to go with ’em. They cut him back, and the train pulls out in the night. “Well, sir, the next mornin’ them cowpunchers looks out the caboose winder, and there’s that bull trottin’ along by the train, bellerin’ and pawin’ up the dust, and hookin’ at the telegraph poles as he passes ’em by. He follered that train all the way to Kansas City and had to be shipped back. “The fellers started to sell him to the packers jist for spite, but they knowed old man Coffey never would git over it if they did.” “Yeah, I heard of that critter,” said Joe. “Fact is I rode a hundred miles jest to see him once, but I didn’t git to. “We gits to old man Coffey’s place about dinner time, and we goes in and asks if he’s home. “‘Naw, he ain’t at home right now,’ says his wife. ‘Git down and look at your saddles, and come in and eat.’ “‘Where is he this mornin’?’ I asks. “‘He left ’bout nine o’clock,’ she says. ‘He’s goin’ over to Phoenix. Said he might go by Roswell.’ “‘I reckon we won’t git to see him,’ I says. “‘Jest unsaddle your hosses,’ she says. ‘I look for him back about an hour by sun, that is, if he don’t have no hard luck.’ “‘Wonder if you could tell us where his fast bull is?’ I says. ‘We come over to see him.’ “‘Oh,’ she says, ‘he’s ridin’ the bull. That’s how I know he’ll git back tonight.’” “I reckon that bull could of outrun a milamo bird,” said Hank. “No doubt he could,” said Joe. “No doubt he could.” “What is a milamo bird like?” asked Lanky. But Joe forestalled Hank by saying, “Lanky, you didn’t git enough sleep last night, what with all that rattlesnake skeer. I seen you noddin’ while Hank was a-tellin’ about that sheepherder of Old Man Mason’s, though I couldn’t blame you much for that. Go to bed, son, and maybe we’ll see a milamo bird tomorrow.” BIRDS AND BEASTS It was Lanky’s third night in cow camp. The herd had been bedded, and the first night shift had gone on. Lanky, sore of muscle, but extremely contented, sat by the fire with Red Wallace, Hank Williams, and Joe Martin, the men who on the first night had imparted to him the esoteric lore of the rattlesnake, and who on the second night had entertained him with yarns of marvelous speed.