It developed that when he would speak to the Silent One, he must say Jim, or
wait long for a reply. Also, the Silent One was not always silent, and he
was quick to observe the weak points in those around him, and keen at
repartee. When it pleased him so to do, he could handle the English language
in a way that was perfectly amazing--and not always intelligible to the
unschooled. At such times Pink frankly made no attempt to understand him;
Rowdy, having been hustled through grammar school and two-thirds through
high school before he ran away from a brand new stepmother, rather enjoyed
the outbreaks and Pink's consequent disgust.

Not one of them loved particularly the line camp, and Rowdy least of all,
since it put an extra ten miles between Miss Conroy and himself. Rowdy had
got to that point where his mind dwelt much upon matters domestic, and he
made many secret calculations on the cost of housekeeping for two. More than
that, he put himself upon a rigid allowance for pocket-money--an allowance
barely sufficient to keep him in tobacco and papers. All this without
consulting Miss Conroy's wishes--which only goes to show that Rowdy Vaughan
was a born optimist.

The Silent One complained that he could not keep supplied with
reading-matter, and Pink bewailed the monotony of inaction. For, beyond
watching the river to keep the cattle from miring in the mud lately released
from frost grip, there was nothing to do.

According to the calendar, spring was well upon them, and the prairies would
soon be flaunting new dresses of green. The calendar, however, had neglected
to record the rainless heat of the summer gone before, or the searing winds
that burned the grass brown as it grew, or the winter which forgot its part
and permitted prairie-dogs to chip-chip-chip above ground in January, when
they should be sleeping decently in their cellar homes.