“Good idea, Sun.  But I guess you’ll miss it yourself.”

“I dunno.  Neeter ain’t lookin’ at it as much as she used to.  She’s busy lookin’ after leetle Bill—­and me.  ’Course I can get another one took most any time.”

“Make it two and give me one,” said Corliss.

“You ain’t joshin’?”

“No.  I’ll hang it in the office.”

“Then she gets took—­immediate.”

Chance, who stood watching the two men, rose and wagged his tail.

Chance never failed to recognize that note in his master’s voice.  It meant that his master was pleased, enthusiastic, happy, and Chance, loyal companion, found his happiness in that of his friends.

“Well,” said Sundown, “I reckon I got to be joggin’.  Thanks for the check.”

Corliss waved his hand.  “I’ll step over to the gate with you.  Thought perhaps you’d stay and see Billy.”

“Nope.  I ain’t feelin’ like meetin’ folks today.  Don’ know why.  Sky’s clear and fine, but inside I feel like it was goin’ to rain.  When you comin’ down to see leetle Bill and Neeter?”

“Pretty soon.  Is Billy well?”

“Well!  Gee Gosh!  If you could hear the langwidge he uses when Neeter puts him to bed and he don’t want to go!  Why, yesterday he was on the floor playin’ with Chance and Chance got tired of it and lays down to snooze.  Billy hitches along up to Chance, and Bim! he punches Chance on the nose.  Made him sneeze, too!  Why, that kid ain’t afraid of nothin’—­jest like his pa.  I reckon Billy told you that his wife said that leetle Billy took after me, eh?  Leave it to a woman to see them things!”

“Well, I’m mighty glad you’re settled, and making a go of it, Sun.”

“So be I. I was recollectin’ when I fust come into this country and landed at that water-hole.  It was kind of a joke then, but it ain’t no joke now.  Funny thing—­that bunch of punchers what started me lookin’ for that there hotel that time—­they come jinglin’ up last week.  Didn’t know I was the boss till one of ’em grins after sizin’ me up and says—­er—­well, two three words what kids hadn’t ought to hear, and then, ‘It’s him, boys!’ Then I steps out and says, ’It is, gents.  Come right in and have dinner and it won’t cost you fellas a cent.  I told you I’d feed you up good when I got me hotel to runnin’.’  And sure enough, in they come and we fed ’em.  They was goin’ to the Blue.  They bunked in me hay that night.  Next mornin’ they acted kind of queer, sayin’ nothin’ except, ‘So-long,’ when they lit out.  And what do you think!  They went and left four dollars and twenty-eight cents in the sugar-bowl—­and a piece of paper with it sayin’, ‘For the kid.’  We never found it out till I was drinkin’ me coffee that night and liked to choked to death on a nickel.  Guess them punchers ain’t so bad.”

“No.  They stopped here next day.  Said they’d never had a finer feed than you gave ’em.”