Milt Dale answered that question to Beasley's discredit; and
many strange matters pertaining to sheep and herders, always
a mystery to the little village of Pine, now became as clear
as daylight.

Other men entered the cabin.

"It ain't a-goin' to rain much," said one. Then came a crash
of wood thrown to the ground.

"Jim, hyar's a chunk of pine log, dry as punk," said
another.

Rustlings and slow footsteps, and then heavy thuds attested
to the probability that Jim was knocking the end of a log
upon the ground to split off a corner whereby a handful of
dry splinters could be procured.

"Snake, lemme your pipe, an' I'll hev a fire in a jiffy."

"Wal, I want my terbacco an' I ain't carin' about no fire,"
replied Snake.

"Reckon you're the meanest cuss in these woods," drawled
Jim.

Sharp click of steel on flint -- many times -- and then a
sound of hard blowing and sputtering told of Jim's efforts
to start a fire. Presently the pitchy blackness of the cabin
changed; there came a little crackling of wood and the