Bud Shoop, who had kept silent, shouldered the puncher aside. "Cut it
out, Sinker," he growled. "Can't you sabe that Sundown means it?"


Later in the evening, and fortified with a hearty meal. Sundown gave a
revised version of the fight, wherein his participation was modified,
though the story lost nothing in re-telling. And, indeed, his own
achievement, of lugging Chance up the cañon trail, awakened a kind of
respect among the easy-going cowboys. To carry an eighty-pound dog up
that trail took sand! Again Sundown had unconsciously won their
respect. Nothing was said about his late return. And his horse had
found its way back to the camp.


Sometime in the night, Bud Shoop was awakened by the man next him.

"What's goin' on?" queried Shoop, rising on his elbow.

"Ask me again," said the puncher. "Listen!"

From the vicinity of the wagon came the gurgle of water and then a
distinctly canine sneeze.

"Dinged if he ain't fussin' with that dog again!" grumbled Shoop. "The
dam' fool!" Which, as it is the spirit which giveth life to the
letter, was not altogether uncomplimentary.