The afternoon’s shadows were slanting down the valley when the seven little burros saw Reddy’s wagon come down the long, dusty road leading toward the river. From where they browsed they could see it go over the bridge and the alkali flats, on its way to the railroad station in the hazy valley. The big sheet of canvas, taken from Dick’s bed, covered something that lay in the bottom of the wagon. Two somethings there were—side by side, rigid and cold—sharply outlined under the folds of white canvas.
The wagon creaked, and rattled, and groaned on its way. The afternoon sun parched and burned the earth, as it had done for weeks. Rabbits hid under the edges of the greasewood on the side where the greater shadows fell. The burros still flicked with their absurd tails at the sand-flies. Buzzing above the canvas were some big green flies that followed the wagon till after the sun went down. A buzzard circled overhead; and a lean coyote trotted behind the wagon on the mesa for a mile or more.
The burros, too, crossed the bridge that night, and morning found them browsing along the foothills nestling against the mountains across the valley, where feed was better. Near the base of the mountain, and not far from the little railroad station, was a graveyard. Treeless, flowerless, unfenced. There were no headstones, ’tis true; but the graves were well banked with broken rock, to keep the hungry coyotes and badgers from digging up the dead.
At the station Black Joaquin had helped lift the new pine boxes into the wagon. As he watched them start on their ride to the place of rock-covered mounds near the foothills, he said to the men gathered about:
“Por Dios! Not so muchos hombres to shoot mostang now!”
And his brother Domingo, who had been drinking, answered with more freedom:
“’Sta ’ueno! Not so muchos hombres; more mostang por me. ’Sta ’ueno; si, ’sta muy ’ueno!”
He laughed slyly. Then he went over to the saloon, followed by the other men.
The little gray burros watched the wagon for a long time, as it went rattle—rattle—rattle over the stony road. By and by it stopped. Then they began nibbling again on the scant bunch-grass and white sage.