“Mebby they ain’t,” sighed Sundown.  “It’s the only pair I got, and I’m kind of used to ’em.”

“Did you let Chance loose?” queried the foreman.

“Me?  Nix.  But he was sleepin’ in the stall with me this mornin’.”

“Heard him goin’ on last night.  Thought mebby a coyote or a wolf had strayed in to get a drink.”

“Get a drink!  Can’t they get a drink up in them hills?”

“Sure!  But they kind of fancy the flavor of the water-trough.  They come in frequent.  But you better fan it for chuck.  See you later.”

Sundown hurried through breakfast.  He was anxious to hear more about the habits of coyotes and wolves.  When he again came to the corral, many of the riders had departed.  Shoop stood waiting for John Corliss.

“You said them wolves and coyotes—­” began Sundown.

“Yes, ding ’em!” interrupted Shoop.  “Looks like they come down last night.  Somethin’ ‘s been monkeyin’ with the water.”

“Did you ever see one—­at night?” queried Sundown, nervously.

“See ’em?  Why, I shot droves of ’em right from the bunk-house door.  I never miss a chance.  Cut loose every time I see one standin’ with his front paws on the trough.  Get ’em every time.”

“Wisht I’d knowed that.”

“So?”

“Uhuh.  I’d ‘a’ borrowed a gun off you and set up and watched for ’em myself.”

Bud Shoop made a pretense of tightening a cinch on Sundown’s pony, that he might “blush unseen,” as it were.

Presently Corliss appeared and motioned to Shoop.  “How’s the new cook doing?” he asked.

“Fine!”

Sundown retired modestly to the off-side of the pony.

“Got a line on him already,” said Shoop.  “First thing, Chance, here, took to him.  Then, next thing, he manufactures a batch of pies that ain’t been matched on the Concho since she was a ranch.  Then, next thing after that, Chance slips his collar and goes and bushes with the Bo—­sleeps with him till this mornin’.  And you can rope me for a parson if that walkin’ wish-bone didn’t get to ramblin’ in his sleep last night and come out and take a bath in the drinkin’-trough!  He’s got on them clothes I give him, this mornin’.  Can you copper that?”

“Bad dream, Bud.”

“You wait!” said the grinning foreman.  “You watch him.  Don’t pay no ’tention to me.”

Corliss smiled.  Shoop’s many and devious methods of estimating character had their humorous angles.  The rancher appreciated a joke quite as much as did any of his employees, but usually as a spectator and not a participant.  Bud Shoop had served him well and faithfully, tiding over many a threatened quarrel among the men by a humorous suggestion or a seemingly impersonal anecdote anent disputes in general.  So Corliss waited, meanwhile inspecting the ponies in the corral.  He noticed a pinto with a saddle-gall and told Shoop to turn the horse out on the range.