the platter and to his own plate. Then he shoved the platter toward
Conniston without looking to see whether or not it arrived at its
proper destination, and gave his undivided attention to the dish of
boiled potatoes which the man upon his left had shoved at him.
Conniston, helping himself slowly, found soon that the potatoes, the
rice, and a tray of biscuits were all lodged at his elbow, waiting to
be ferried on around the end of the table.

For a few moments all conversation died utterly. These men had done a
day's work, a day's work calling upon straining muscles and unslacking
energy, and their hunger was an active thing. They plied their knives
and forks, took great draughts of their hot tea and coffee, with
little attention to aught else. But presently, as their hunger began
to be appeased, they broke into conversation again, talking of a
hundred range matters of which Conniston understood almost nothing. He
drew from the fragments which reached him above the general clatter
the same thing that he had got from the few words which had passed
between Rawhide Jones and Spud. Evidently, the cowboys were pressed
with work both on the Half Moon and on the other ranges, and the new
foreman, Brayley, was putting on more men and sparing no one in
carrying out the orders which came from headquarters. Equally
apparently, the man whom they called Bat Truxton was in command of the
reclamation work in Rattlesnake Valley, and now with a force of a
hundred men was working with an activity even more feverish than
Brayley's.

During the meal five more men came in, and with a word of rough
greeting to their fellows dropped into their chairs and helped
themselves deftly. Conniston recognized one of the men as the
half-breed, Joe, whom he had seen meet Miss Crawford in Indian Creek.