ugly a reality as Pete, and Johnny was petulant. "Why didn't you get outa
the way, then? You saw me coming, didn't you?"

"Me? Sure! I ain't _loco_. I seen yuh five mile back, about. I knowed it
was somebody from the ranch. Sudden 'phoned in and said I could drag it.
And you can bet yore sweet young life I hailed them words with joy! What
yuh done to 'im that he's sendin' yuh off down to Sinkhole? Me, I 'phoned
in and much as told 'em he'd have to double my pay if he wanted me to
stay down there any longer. That was a coupla days ago. Didn't git no
satisfaction atall till to-day. Me, I'd ruther go to jail, twicet over,
than stay here a week longer. Ain't saw a soul in two weeks down there.
Well, I'll be pushin' along. Adios--and here's hopin' you like it better
than what I done."

Johnny told him good-bye and straightway forgot him. Once he had his two
horses "lined out" in their shuffling little trail-trot that was their
natural gait, he picked up his dream where he had been interrupted. Where
his body went mattered little to Johnny Jewel, so long as he was left
alone with his thoughts. So presently his eyes were once more staring
vacantly at the dim trail, while in spirit he was soaring high and
swooping downward with the ease of a desert lark, while thousands
thrilled to watch his flight.

What did he care about Sinkhole Camp? Loneliness meant long,
uninterrupted hours in which to ride and read and dream of the great
things he meant some day to do.