“If it’s about the cook being out of evaporated cream, William, I have already been informed twice.  Ah-h!  I almost had one then!”

“Aw, thunder! yuh think I’m worrying over canned cream?  What I want to say may not be more important, but when yuh get fishing enough I’ll say it anyhow.”  He watched Dill moodily, and then lifted his eyes to stare at the gorgeous sky—­as though there would be no more sunsets when the range-life was gone, and he must needs fill well his memory for the barren years ahead.

When Dill flopped a six-inch trout against his ear, so steeped was he in bitterness that he merely said, “Aw, hell!” wearily and hunched farther along on the hummock.

“I really beg your pardon, William.  From the vicious strike he made, I was convinced that he weighed at least half a pound, and exerted more muscular force than was quite necessary.  When one hasn’t a reel it is impossible to play them properly, and it is the first quick pull that one must depend upon.  I’m very sorry—­”

“Sure.  Don’t mention it, Dilly.  Say, how many cattle have yuh got receipts for, to date—­if it ain’t too much trouble?”

“No trouble at all, William.  I have an excellent memory for figures.  Four thousand, three hundred and fifteen.  Ah-h!  See how instinct inspires him to flop always toward the water!  Did you ever—­”

“Well, yes, I’ve saw a fish flop toward the water once or twicet before now.  It sure is a great sight, Dilly!” He did not understand Dill these days, and wondered a good deal at his manifest indifference to business cares.  It never occurred to him that Dill, knowing quite well how hard the trouble pressed upon his foreman, was only trying in his awkward way to lighten it by not seeming to think it worth worrying over.

“I hate to mention trifles at such a time, Dilly, but I thought maybe yuh ought to know that we won’t be able to scare up more than a couple uh hundred more cattle, best we can do.  We’re bound to fall a lot short uh what I estimated—­and I ain’t saying nothing about the fine job uh guessing I done!  If we bring the total up to forty-five hundred, we’ll do well.”

Dill took plenty of time to wind the line around his willow pole.  “To use your own expressive phraseology, William,” he said, when he had quite finished and had laid the pole down on the bank, “that will leave me in one hell-of-a-hole!”

“That’s what I thought,” Billy returned apathetically.

“Well, I must take these up to the cook.”  Dill held up the four fish he had caught.  “I’ll think the matter over, William, and I thank you for telling me.  Of course you will go on and gather what there are.”

“Sure,” agreed Billy tonelessly, and followed Dill back to camp and went to bed.

At daybreak it was raining, and Billy after the manner of cowboys slept late; for there would be no riding until the weather cleared, and there being no herd to hold, there would be none working save the horse-wrangler, the night-hawk and cook.  It was the cook who handed him a folded paper and a sealed envelope when he did finally appear for a cup of coffee.  “Dill-pickle left ’em for yuh,” he said.