compatriots off their feet; innuendo if you will--but the average
cowboy is capable of assimilating much pie.

Although Sundown was offered the use of a bunk in the men's quarters,
he chose to sleep in a box-stall in the stable, explaining that he was
accustomed to sleep in all kinds of places, and that the unused
box-stall with fresh clean straw and blankets would make a very
comfortable bedroom. His reason for declining a place with the men
became apparent about midnight.

Bud Shoop had, in a bluff, offhand way, given him a flannel shirt,
overalls, an old flop-brimmed Stetson, and, much to Sundown's delight,
a pair of old riding-boots. Hitherto, Sundown had been too preoccupied
with culinary matters to pay much attention to his clothing.
Incidentally he was spending not a little time in getting accustomed to
his spurs, which he wore upon all occasions, clinking and clanking
about the cook-room, a veritable Don Quixote of the (kitchen) range.

The arrival of Corliss, three days after Sundown's advent, had a
stimulating effect on the new cook. He determined to make the best
appearance possible.

The myriad Arizona stars burned with darting radiance, in thin,
unwavering shafts of splintered fire. The moon, coldly brilliant,
sharp-edged and flat like a disk of silver paper, touched the twinkling
aspens with a pallid glow and stamped a distorted silhouette of the
low-roofed ranch-buildings on the hard-packed earth. In the corral the
shadow of a restless pony drifted back and forth. Chance, chained to a
post near the bunk-house, shook himself and sniffed the keen air, for
just at that moment the stable door had opened and a ghostly figure