“That cur,” he railed, “is gettin’ wuthlesser an’ wuthlesser ev’ry day of his life. Here I go an’ train poor little blind Nellie to work sheep with him; an’ this morning I took her along to help me shift that Number Four bunch to Number Five. It was a two-dog job; ’count of the twist by the coulée an’ ’count of some of the bunch bein’ new. I took her and Zit. What d’ye s’pose? She wouldn’t work with him! Acted like she didn’t know how. An’ no more she did, I reckon; her havin’ worked only with Treve and only knowin’ his ways, an’ all that. I couldn’t do a thing with her. Only that she’s blind an’ that she was most likely doin’ her best, I’d ’a’ whaled the daylights out’n her. An’ where was Treve, all that time? Where _was_ he, I’m askin’ you? He was pirooting over to Santa Carlotta, along of _you_; pleasurin’ himself an’ holiday-makin’, while there was work to do;--the measly slacker!” “It wasn’t Treve’s fault,” rejoined Mack, wearily. “I took him along for comp’ny. I didn’t know you were aiming to shift that bunch till to-morrow. You said--” “Took him ’long for comp’ny?” gibed Fenno. “_Comp’ny_, hey? You got plenty of comp’ny here, without no useless dog traipsin’ after you. Ain’t _I_ ‘comp’ny,’ if comp’ny’s what you’re honin’ after. Ain’t I?” “Yes,” said Mack, briefly. “That’s why I took Treve.” Leaving his glum partner to digest this cryptic speech, Royce stamped off to the back steps to wash up for dinner. Left alone with Treve, the elder partner lost his disgusted glower. Glancing furtively after Mack, he drew something from his pocket. “Trevy!” he called under his breath. The big collie had been following Royce out of the room. At the whisper of his name he halted and turned quickly back. Tail wagging and eyes full of eager friendliness to the old man who had just been denouncing him so harshly, he came up to Joel and sniffed interestedly at the hand extended to him. In the palm was a crumby and none-too-clean fragment of cake. It was the final morsel left from a surreptitious visit to the bakery, the last time Joel had gone to Santa Carlotta. Guiltily, the old man had bought a whole pound of stale jumbles. He had bought them for Treve’s sole benefit; and he had been doling them out, secretly, to the delighted collie ever since. It was the first present of any sort he had purchased for anybody or anything, in all his sixty-odd crabbèd years.