“Well, after dinner—­”

“I can’t stay for dinner, Dilly.  I—­there’s—­I’ve got to ride over here a piece—­I’ll catch up a fresh hoss and start right off.  I—­” He went rather hurriedly after his rope, as hurriedly caught the horse that was handiest and rode away at a lope.  But he did not go so very far.  He just galloped over the open range to a place where, look where he might, he could not see a fence or sign of habitation (and it wrung the heart of him that he must ride into a coulee to find such a place), got down from his horse and lay a long, long while in the grass with his hat pulled over his face.

* * * * *

For the first time in years the Fourth of July saw Billy in camp and in his old clothes.  He had not hurried the round-up—­on the contrary he had been guilty of dragging it out unnecessarily by all sorts of delays and leisurely methods—­simply because he hated to return to the ranch and be near Flora.  The Pilgrim he meant to settle with, but he felt that he could wait; he hadn’t much enthusiasm even for a fight, these days.

But, after all, he could not consistently keep the wagons forever on the range, so he camped them just outside the pasture fence; which was far enough from the house to give him some chance of not being tormented every day by the sight of her, and yet was close enough for all practical purposes.  And here it was that Dill came with fresh news.

“Beef is falling again, William,” he announced when he had Billy quite to himself.  “Judging from present indications, it will go quite as low as last fall—­even lower, perhaps.  If it does, I fail to see how we can ship with any but disastrous financial results.”

“Well, what yuh going to do, then?” Billy spoke more irritably than would have been possible a year ago.  “Yuh can’t winter again and come out with anything but another big loss.  Yuh haven’t even got hay to feed what few calves there is.  And, as I told yuh, the way the fences are strung from hell to breakfast, the stock’s bound to die off like poisoned flies every storm that comes.”

“I have kept that in mind, William.  I saw that I should be quite unable to make a payment this fall, so I went to Mr. Brown to make what arrangements I could.  To be brief, William, Brown has offered to buy back this place and the stock, on much the same terms he offered me.  I believe he wants to put this section of land under irrigation from his ditch and exploit it with the rest; the cattle he can turn into his immense fields until they can be shipped at a profit.  However, that is not our affair and need not concern us.

“He will take the stock as they run, at twenty-one dollars a head.  If, as you estimate, there are somewhere in the neighborhood of six thousand, that will dear me of all indebtedness and leave a few thousands with which to start again—­at something more abreast of the times, I hope.  I am rather inclined to take the offer.  What do you think of it, William?”