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Pink's cheeks no longer made his name appropriate, and he was not the only one who grew fretful over small things. Rowdy had been heard, more than once lately, to anathematize viciously the prairie-dogs for standing on their tails and chipchip-chipping at them as they went by.
"That's a poor way to start in with new neighbors." He lifted his hat with what Pink considered insulting politeness, and followed Dunk into the house. Weary waited there until they had gone in and closed the door, then turned and rode back home again, frowning thoughtfully at the trail ahead of them all the way, and making no reply to Pink's importunings for war.
"Say, Applehead," came a plaintive voice from Pink's hunk, "make Luck turn over on the other side, can't yuh? Darn a man that talks in his sleep!" "By cripes, Luck's got to sleep in the hay loft er I will," Big Medicine growled, making the boards of his bunk squeak with the flop of his disturbed body.
"I know Miss Cardew," said Willy Cameron, guardedly. And they were both rather silent for a time. That night proved to be a significant one for them both, as it happened. They struck up a curious sort of friendship, based on a humble admiration on Pink's part, and with Willy Cameron on sheer hunger for the society of his kind. He had been suffering a real mental starvation.
The rock bounced off her lean rump; she blinked and broke into a shuffling trot, her dragging hoofs kicking up an extra amount of dust, which blew straight into Pink's face. "Aw, cut it out!" he shouted petulantly. "You're sure the limit, without doing any stunts at sprinting up-hill. Ain't yuh got any nerves, yuh blamed old skate?
And Rowdy, from wondering what had made Pink change his attitude so abruptly, began to plan industriously the next meeting with Jessie Conroy, and to build a new castle that was higher and airier than any he had ever before attempted and perhaps had a more flimsy foundation; for it rested precariously on Pink's idle remarks.
After that he seemed to revolve on an axis, and there was an astonishing number of revolutions to the minute. The stirrups were down in the dark somewhere below the farthest reach of Pink's toes he never once located them. But Pink was not known all over Northern Montana as a "bronco-peeler" for nothing. He surprised Glory even more than that deceitful bit of horseflesh had surprised Pink.
Bless you, when I was on my wedding journey, he hung around continuous. I couldn't get shet of the man for a minute, and I was fair tired out of seeing him. But that wears off not that I mean it would with you" turning to Garth "but nothing different couldn't hardly be expected in the course of nature." Garth considered whether he should stop Mrs. Pink's tongue by telling the truth.
"If they don't git feed and water now, yuh needn't start no round-up next spring." Pink's eyes went down over the close-huddled backs and the thicket of polished horns, and his eyelids stung. Would all of them die, he wondered! Four thousand! He hoped not. There must be some way out.
"If I was making a quick get-away, and my horse was about played out like his was apt t' be I'd sure round up the first bunch I seen, and catch me a fresh one if I was a horse-thief. I'll bet yuh " The sheriff had put down his cup of coffee. "Is there any place where a man could corral a bunch on the quiet?" he asked crisply. It was evident that Pink's theory had impressed him. "Yes, there is.
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