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