“Lady, you act plumb scandalous fer a wild hoss,” he said.
Midnight had edged close now. He gathered up the two lumps and crunched them eagerly. Even after weeks of coaxing and tempting Sam had not quieted all the fears in the heart of the stallion. Sam doled out the sweets slowly, making them last as long as possible. When they were gone he got to his feet, and picked up a tin pail beside the door. Walking to a bare spot of ground near the corner of the cabin he poured out a liberal measure of oats.
Midnight stood watching, ready to charge away. The pinto shouldered up close to Sam, letting him run his hand along her neck. Watching her gather up the oats was too much for the black; he crowded in to get his share, but not until Sam had backed away.
Midnight and the pinto gathered up every grain of oats, then they trotted out into the meadow and began feeding. Sam filled his pipe and settled back to let the sun warm his joints. He was glad his visitors had routed him out. The sun was really fine. After a few minutes of its warmth he began thinking about walking down to the new prospect hole he had dug at the base of the castle rocks. He chuckled to himself as he thought about it but he did not move. He was remembering how he had written to Tex asking him to dig a hole on that very spot. He wondered what Tex would have done if he had dug that hole and then discovered he had uncovered a vein of gold-bearing quartz. Sam had a feeling Tex would have dug a buryin’ hole and let it go at that. That was what he thought of Tex.
Out on the meadow a chipmunk had mounted a stone. His voice rang out. “Chock! Chock! Chock!” like the rattle of an old alarm clock. Instantly every chipmunk in the meadow raced to his sing perch and the meadow rang with their song. The fat yellowbelly on guard stretched his neck and blasted a short whistle, then pulled in his neck with a deep chuckle. He always disapproved such a chatter.
Sam’s pipe rolled to the corner of his mouth and turned upside down. One fumbling hand found the gold chain of his big watch. He pulled it out and bent above the dial. His lips moved as he counted. When the chorus died away he was grinning happily.
“One hunnert eighty a minnit,” he mumbled. “That there’s a youngster jest comin’ into his growth. Come spring he’ll do two hunnert.”
As he tucked the ancient watch back into his pocket he sniffed the air. Twisting his neck he looked up at the spruce ridge. Gray clouds raced above the tops of the trees, and he could hear the moaning of a cold wind rushing through the needles. Below the clouds moved a curtain of white, swirling flakes. Sam got to his feet. His watery eyes rested for a moment on a pile of baled hay stacked against the end of the cabin and flanked by a great stack of split firewood. Tex had fixed everything. Let the snows come, he’d be snug as any one of the yellowbellies. And the two horses would not have to worry either.
“I reckon I’ll jest hole up fer a spell,” he said.