“Sister,” said Peter, “don’t you want to go down and speak nice to your old friend Prince?”

Prince, standing before the platform with slavering tongue, bright eyes shining, wagged his tail in a conciliatory manner.  Sister sniffed, growled, whimpered, then walked deliberately down the steps and said something to Prince.  He barked and they trotted over to the plains east of the post-office.

“She’s got a dead coyote she keeps up there for her special friends,” said Peter.  “What’s your trouble, Doug?”

Douglas sat down in Sister’s place.  “I’ve been over to see Charleton, and his wife said something that struck me as queer.”  He repeated Marion’s comment.

Peter laughed.  “The women in this valley beat any bunch I’ve seen anywhere.  If the men were their equals, there wouldn’t be a spot in the world could touch Lost Chief.  What do you think of Charleton’s mind, Doug?”

“I think he’s a wonder.  He’s lived, that guy.”

“Any guy of forty has lived.  It’s the way they look at life that makes men different.  Charleton hasn’t any faith in anything good.  That’s why he’s unlucky.  Don’t let him influence you too much, Doug.  I like Charleton but he’s not good medicine for a boy of your kind.  Have you thought anything about my offer of a couple of months ago?”

“Not much.  I’m putting in most of my time worrying about Jude.”

“Has she been doing anything special?”

“Well, yes.  If I could just make her care for me, it would be easy.  But, Peter, she cares a lot more for that poor old broken down Swift than she does for me.”

“She’s just a child.  You’ll have to be patient, Doug.”

“I am patient, Peter.  But, in the meantime, Scott, or—­” He hesitated, then went on.  “I tell you, this caring for a woman who don’t care for you is hell, Peter!”

Peter stared off toward Fire Mesa, with its rolling clouds of red, and answered seriously, “Yes, it is, Douglas.  But I told you in June all that I could think of, in regard to Judith, and you got sore at me.”

“Well, I’m not sore now.  I was a fool.  Here comes Jimmy Day.  Give me my mail, Peter, and I’ll beat it.  I’m in no frame of mind to talk to a kid.”

Jimmy, who was perhaps a year older than Douglas, pulled his sweating horse to its haunches.  His dog, a mongrel collie, ran up the trail to meet the returning Sister and Prince.  There was a whining colloquy, then the three dogs turned back.

“Must be a scandal somewhere,” suggested Jimmy.

“No, just a dead coyote,” said Peter.  “Sister ran him down yesterday.  Ain’t a dog in the State outside of a greyhound can touch her.”

Douglas made a flying leap into the saddle while the Moose whirled on his hind legs.

“Some horse, Doug!” exclaimed Jimmy.  “I’ll swap this and a two-year-older heifer for him.”

“I’m afraid he might hurt you.  He’s a regular man’s horse, Jimmy.”  Doug lighted a cigarette while the Moose reared.