At that he was gone again; and for an hour or more he rode tirelessly up and down the side, filling up every hole and gap and shoving the leaders ahead. The cottonwoods of the home ranch showed green against the hills, and the end of their drive was in sight, when suddenly Brigham held up his hand to stop.
"Let 'em feed a while," he said, as Bowles rode up to inquire. "The drag is gittin' weak." Then he sat silent on his rough-haired bronk, his inscrutable eyes gazing dully over the plain to the south, and Bowles dropped wearily off his horse and stretched himself out on the ground. Half an hour afterward he roused up with a start just as Dixie Lee, mounted on a long, rangy bay, came galloping up the road. Her eyes were very bright, and her cheeks were flushed from riding against the wind, and as she reined her horse in with a jerk her hair framed her face like a halo. But she did not see Bowles, though he stood up and took off his hat.
"Hello, Brig," she called. "Watching 'em pick the flowers?"
"Yes'm," answered Brigham, grinning amiably. "Watchin' 'em pluck the blossoms. What's goin' on down below now? Seen you go down there several times."
"Oh, you're still keeping track of me, are you?" queried Dixie Lee gaily. "Well, you want to look out, Brigham—I'm getting awfully interested in a young Texican down there. He's got a nice farm, too—hundred and sixty acres!"
"Sure!" agreed Brigham. "All covered with loco weed and this nice white stuff!"
He nodded at the glistening alkali along the flat, and his eyes twinkled with furtive humor as Dixie Lee raised her quirt.
"Aw, Brigham," she chided, "I believe you're jealous!" She leaned forward as she spoke, and the bay broke into a gallop, while Dixie sent a laugh down the wind.
"Heh, heh, heh," chuckled Brigham, reaching into his vest for a cigarette paper. "That's Dix, all right. Don't you know, stranger," he went on as he rolled himself a smoke, "that's the finest gal in Arizona. Good folks an' all that, but nothin' stuck up about her. Heh, heh, mighty nigh ast her to marry me one time, but couldn't quite cut it—she's been joshin' me ever since. Got 'em all comin' and won't have none of 'em. Oh, hookey, wisht I wasn't a common, ornery cow-punch!"
He paused and smoked a while, still gazing at the streak of dust.