"Them horses are too tired to eat," he said, as he went between them and stroked their coats still matted with rain and sweat.
King looked the horses over in silence. He did not have to be told the reason for their condition. When Gabe turned to him with questioning look, King nodded. After they had gone the rounds of the corral and had found everything in good order they left and went out again to learn, if possible, what mood the men were in.
They had not gone more than a dozen steps when the door of the large bunkhouse opened and a flood of light fell from the open doorway upon the wet ground immediately in front. Someone appeared in the doorway for a moment and threw a bottle that fell against a pile of stones a few yards away. At the sound of the breaking glass old Gabe grunted.
"They're at it again to-night," he said with grim emphasis.
"I guess we'll have to go in and look round anyhow," King replied quietly.
As he spoke the sound of laughter came from the bunkhouse, and the voices of two or three men speaking very loudly.
King and Gabe paused when they came to the door and listened for a moment to what was going on within. There was the usual round of noisy conversation without the slightest indication of dissension of any kind, and King was of two minds whether he should go in at all, or turn back and go to the store, at the back of which he had a cot prepared for a night's rest. While he hesitated, however, Gabe stepped forward and opened the door, and the next moment King followed him into the bunkhouse.
Their coming created no surprise. They were greeted casually and with no show of concern. At the end of the open space that ran the length of the bunkhouse from the door to the other end, one of the camp hands, a mere boy, was just beginning a song for the entertainment of the men, who were lounging about on benches and in the bunks, some of them already half asleep.
King and Gabe sat down on the edge of one of the bunks and listened to the high falsetto that piped through the whole length of twelve or fifteen verses that reeked with tragedy. During the song King looked about him quietly at the men. In the faces of most of them he could trace the effects of two or three days' debauch. But they all seemed quiet and gave no indication of bad temper. In fact when the boy came to the last line of his song and spoke the words in the time-honored manner that camp singers have of ending a song, the applause that broke from the men was so generous and their comments so good-natured that King could not help feeling his sense of security returning. He was confident that he had nothing to fear from these men if they were left alone. With the exception of three or four, who looked as if they had been drinking a little too freely during the evening, the men had sobered up and were almost normal again.
King got up and walked the full length of the open space between the bunks and sat down on a bench near a group of men who were playing cards. He spoke to no one except to return the greetings he received here and there as he passed among the men, and when he had sat down he rolled himself a cigarette and watched the game in silence. Gabe was still sitting near the door talking to some of the men.