"We's a hull team and a dog under the waggin, but, Massa Doctor, I'se goin' out to look after the bosses," and he left the room.
Moriarity, picking up a rifle and cartridge belt, said he was going out for a canter and see what luck he could have in the way of game. This left Cummings and the Doctor alone.
Glancing out the window they saw Moriarity gallop off, and a short distance behind Scip on his horse, following.
"Where did you pick up that darkey, Doctor?" asked Cummings.
"In St. Louis, about five years ago. He is a good one, faithful and brave, and will never squeal. He is just the man to help us on this new deal."
The subject of this conversation was all this time galloping over the level prairie, following closely behind Moriarity, who, with his rifle thrown across the pommel of his saddle, was on the look out for anything in the way of game which might come along.
As they rode along they would meet one of the herders sitting at ease on his horse, or galloping madly after some refractory steer that was making a break for freedom. They had, in their ride, passed four of these men, and to every one Scip gave a signal, merely the wave of his hand in a peculiar manner, to which the men had responded likewise. They were nearing another stand, the ranchman, astride his pony, stood against the sky like a bronze bit of sculpture. As they came within speaking distance Scip, drawing in his horse, said.
"I's goin' to loaf aroun' heah a bit, Massa Dan, I'll wait fer you."
"All right," responded Dan, who gave his horse the spurs and swiftly disappeared behind the swell of land. Scip, walking his nag, drew near the cowboy.
"Hye thar, honey, got any 'bacco?"