"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."