some trouble with the herd, and after that more plain and a couleee or two,
and then, on a far slope--the reservation.

The cattle were rested and fed, and walked out briskly; the ridge neared
perceptibly. Pink's shrill whistle carried far back down the line and
mingled pleasantly with voices calling to one another across the herd. Not a
man was humped listlessly in his saddle; instead, they rode with shoulders
back and hats at divers jaunty angles to keep the sun from shining in eyes
that faced the future cheerfully.

The herd steadily climbed the ridge, choosing the smoothest path and the
easiest slope. Pink assured the line-backed cow that she was a peach, and
told her to "go to it, old girl." The Silent One's pockets were quite empty
of rocks, and the prairiedogs chipped and flirted their funny little tails
unassailed. And Rowdy, from wondering what had made Pink change his attitude
so abruptly, began to plan industriously the next meeting with
Jessie Conroy, and to build a new castle that was higher and airier than any
he had ever before attempted--and perhaps had a more flimsy foundation; for
it rested precariously on Pink's idle remarks.

The point gained the top of the ridge, and Pink turned and swung his hat
jubilantly at the others. The reservation was in sight, though it lay
several miles distant. But in that clear air one could distinguish the line
fence--if one had the eye of faith and knew just where to look. Presently he
observed a familiar horseman climbing the ridge to meet them.

"Eagle Creek's coming," he shouted to the man behind. "Come alive, there,
and don't let 'em roam all over the map. Git some style on yuh!"

Those who heard laughed; no one ever dreamed of being offended at what Pink