"If you can show me anythin' monotoner than this job, I'll eat it," growled the waiter. "It's hell on wheels for me."
"Oh, this whole range is monotonous," grunted Johnny. "Reckon nothin' interestin' has happened down here since Moses got lost. But there's one thing I like about it—there ain't no woman in thirty miles."
"You foller Clear River into Green Valley, which is SV, an' you'll change yore mind," chuckled the waiter. "She'll chase you off, too."
"I'll be cussed. An' she's suspicious of strangers?"
"Don't put no limit on it like that; she's suspicious of everythin' that wears pants."
"How's that?"
"Well, her cows has been wanderin' off, lookin' for better grass, I reckon, an' she thinks they're bein' drove."
Johnny pictured the valley, but hid his smile. "Oh, well; you can't blame the cows. They'll find th' best. Any ranches 'round here run by men?"
"Shore; three of 'em. There's th' Bar H, an' th' Triangle, an' over west is th' Double X, but it's ranchhouse is so fur from here that it's a sort of outsider. It's th' biggest, th' Bar H is next, an' then comes th' Triangle. Th' Triangle don't hardly count, neither 'though it's close by."