“I ain’t got no stamps. This letter’ll need two, I guess. Here’s the nickel. Will you please kindly stick ’em on for me?”
“Sure,” said Dines again. He undid the yearling’s legs. “Now, young fellow, go find your mammy. Go a-snuffin’!”
The yearling scrambled to his feet, bellowing. Johnny jerked him round by the tail so that his nose pointed down the cañon; the newcomer jumped his horse and shook a stirrup and slapped his thigh with his hat; the yearling departed.
“Well, I’ll be getting on back to camp,” said the newcomer. “So long! Much obliged to you.”
“So long!” said Johnny.
He waved his hand. The other waved answer as he took the trail. He jogged in leisurely fashion up the cañon. Dines paused to tread out the remaining fire, took up his branding iron by the cool end, and rode whistling down the cañon, swinging the iron to cool it before he slipped it to its appointed place below his saddle horn.
VII
“May God be merciful to him and to us all.”