Nat patted his broncho on the neck, and then stood beside him watching—­listening.  Was it fancy, or was it fact?  The faintest sound of a horse galloping reached him; at least, he thought so.

He returned to the fire sullenly antagonistic.  He did not return to his blanket, but sat silently smoking and thinking.  He hated the constant reference to his inexperience on the prairie.  If even he did hear a horse galloping in the distance it didn’t matter.  But it was his ears that had first caught the sound in spite of his inexperience.  His companion pigheadedly derided the fact because his own ears were not sufficiently keen to have detected the sound himself.

Thus he sat for a few minutes gazing into the fire.  Jake was now snoring loudly, and Nat was glad to be relieved from the tones of his sneering voice.  Presently he rose softly from his seat, and taking his saddle blanket, saddled and bridled his horse.  Then he mounted and silently rode off towards the herd.  It was his relief on the cattle guard.

Jim Bowley welcomed him with the genial heartiness of a man who knows that he has finished his vigil and that he can now lie down to rest.  The guarding of a large herd at night is always an anxious time.  Cattle are strange things to handle.  A stampede will often involve a week’s weary scouring of the prairie.

Just as Jim Bowley was about to ride up to the camp, Nat fired a question which he had been some time meditating.

“Guess you didn’t hear a horse gallopin’ jest now, pard?” he asked quietly.

“Why cert, boy,” the other answered quickly, “only a deaf mule could ‘a’ missed it.  Some one passed right under the ridge thar, away to the southwest.  Guess they wer’ travelin’ mighty fast too.  Why?”

“Oh, nothin’, Jim, on’y I guess Jake Bond’s that same deaf mule you spoke of.  He’s too fond of gettin’ at youngsters, the old fossil.  I told ’im as I ‘card suthin’, an’ ’e told me as I was a tenderfoot and didn’t know wot I was gassin’ about.”

“Jake’s a cantankerous cuss, boy.  Let ’im gas; ’e don’t cut any figger anyway.  Say, you keep yer eye peeled on some o’ the young heifers on the far side o’ the bunch.  They’re rustlin’ some.  They keep mouching after new grass.  When the moon gits up you’ll see better.  S’long, mate.”

Jim rode away towards the camp fire, and young Nat proceeded to circle round the great herd of cattle.  It was a mighty bunch for three men to handle.  But Lablache, its owner, was never one to underwork his men.  This was the herd which he had purchased at the sale of Bunning-Ford’s ranch.  And they were now being taken to his own ranch, some distance to the south of the settlement, for the purpose of re-branding with his own marks.

As young Nat entered upon his vigil the golden arc of the rising moon broke the sky-line of the horizon.  Already the clouds were fast clearing, being slowly driven before the yellow glory of the orb of night.  Soon the prairie would be bathed in the effulgent, silvery light which renders the western night so delicious when the moon is at its full.