"Forecasting the future," Pink retorted. "Eagle Creek has come alive, and
has wised up sudden to the fact that this ain't going t' be any Noah's flood
brand uh summer, and that his cattle look like the tailings of a wash-board
factory. He's got busy--and we're sure going to. We're due t' hit the grit
out uh here in the first beams uh rosy morn, and do a record stunt at
gathering cattle."

"Well, we were going to, anyhow," Rowdy cut in.

"But that's only the prelude, old-timer. We've got t' take 'em across
country to the Belknap reservation. Eagle Creek went t' town and
telegraphed, and got the refusal of it for pasturage; he ain't so slow,
oncet he gets started. But if you've ever rode over them dried-up benches,
you savvy the merry party we'll be when we git there. I've saw jack-rabbits
packing their lunch along over there."

"Belknap"--Rowdy dropped his saddle spitefully to the ground--"is where our
friend Conroy has just gone to fill a splendid position."

Pink thoughtfully blew the ashes from his cigarette. "Harry Conroy would
fill one position fine. So one uh these days I'll offer it to him. I don't
know anybody that'd look nicer in a coffin than that jasper--and if he's
gone t' Belknap, that's likely the position he'll fill, all right."

Rowdy said nothing, but his very silence told Pink much.

"How'd yuh make out with Jessie?" Pink asked frankly, though he was not
supposed to know where Rowdy had been.