lounging about a big fire of dried mesquite chunks.

Their usual exchange of jokes and repartee had dwindled almost to
silence, but silence in a cow camp generally betokens the brewing of
mischief.

Miss Sally and the Marquis were seated upon a log, discussing the
relative merits of the lengthened or shortened stirrup in long-distance
riding. The Marquis arose presently and went to a tree near by to
examine some strips of rawhide he was seasoning for making a lariat.
Just as he left a little puff of wind blew some scraps of tobacco from a
cigarette that Dry-Creek Smithers was rolling, into Miss Sally's eyes.
While the cook was rubbing at them, with tears flowing, "Phonograph"
Davis--so called on account of his strident voice--arose and began a
speech.

"Fellers and citizens! I desire to perpound a interrogatory. What is the
most grievous spectacle what the human mind can contemplate?"

A volley of answers responded to his question.

"A busted flush!"

"A Maverick when you ain't got your branding iron!"

"Yourself!"

"The hole in the end of some other feller's gun!"

"Shet up, you ignoramuses," said old Taller, the fat cow-puncher. "Phony