The next day passed without any incidents save trivial ones that did not count. Lance rode to the creek with his trout-rod and reel––more citified innovations which the ranch eyed askance––and spent four hours loitering along the bank, his fly floating uselessly over shallow pools where was never a fish. It was not the right time of day for fishing, but Lance seemed to have forgotten the lore he had learned along that same creek and others farther away.
Sometimes he could be seen from the ranch buildings, more often he could not. When he could not be seen was when he was crouched 294 among the rocks, studying the Devil’s Tooth Ridge with his powerful glasses.
“Hope he’s comfortable,” he said once, when, satisfied that his guess was correct, he put the glasses away and settled down seriously to fishing.
He rode home with four trout, and Riley fried them for supper. During supper Lance criticized Squaw Creek, and hinted that Mill Creek and Lava Creek were better fishing waters, and that he meant to try them.
That night at eleven o’clock he made another silent tour of the corrals and went to bed feeling pretty sure that the ranch would show its present complement of men in the morning.
On the second day, four of the hired cowboys rode in at sundown, and with them came Al. Their horses were fagged. They themselves were dirty, hungry, tired. Their faces were glum––and the glumness remained even after they had washed and eaten ravenously. Al did not come to the house at all, but stayed down in the bunk house, whither Tom presently went. Lance did not follow.
Belle looked worried and asked Lance constrainedly if he knew why Duke had not come with the others. Lance laughed.
“Duke? Oh––he’s on the trail of another dollar. By heck, Belle, I’m afraid you’ve raised one son to be a shirk. I don’t seem to need all of that dollar chasing to make me happy.”
Tom came in then, glanced swiftly from one to the other, said something unimportant, rolled a cigarette with elaborate care, and observed that Duke would find it hot, riding all the way to Shoshone, and that he’d be darned if he’d go that far for any girl. He sat down and disposed himself comfortably, got up, muttered something about forgetting to turn Coaley out, and left the house.