And when round up comes again, my money's all go-o-o-ne."
Clint had got harmonious, and with the other cowboy a trying to keep up on the mouth organ was singing the song, he mixed in about ten verses and took in other songs as he went, the tunes changed some, but the "Texas whang" he carried with the tunes made 'em more or less alike and all appreciated the same.
The last verse had died down, some of the boys looked up expecting more, and others, hat brim pulled down, was stargazing at the fire and letting the memories the songs had brought lead 'em back to times and happenings that'd been stirred the most.
All was quiet, excepting for the crackling of the fire, and one of the boys was just about to speak the name of some other old song when off from the direction where the remuda was held, a nicker was heard.
Clint looked towards where the familiar nicker had come and smiled,—the cowboy's voice had carried to where Smoky had been grazing, and the little horse had stopped grinding on his feed soon as the first verse had hit his ears, he'd listened on thru to the end, nickered, and watched the fire on the creek bottom from where the voice had come.
He watched it long into the night till all was quiet and the fire had dwindled down to coals; time for first night guard to be relieved was near and Smoky was still watching. Pecos was dozing off a ways, and pretty soon Smoky begin to feel a little groggy too and he dozed with him.
A new day was no more than hinted by the paling sky to the east when the "nighthawk" begin bunching the ponies and hazing 'em towards camp. It was still faint daylight when the catch ropes was a hissing over the ponies' heads once again and loops settled around slick necks. Broncs was drug out, and a fighting against the saddle while the sun was still back of the ridges, but the day's work had started at the round up camp.
In a short while the remuda was let out again, and the day wrangler started grazing 'em while the outfit broke camp for other grounds. When all was loaded in the big wagons the pilot took the lead, and when the sun showed up to begin its circle up above, the cook had already moved his kitchen some ten miles and the pots was beginning to feel the heat of the fire underneath.
Smoky was in another new country that day, and as he grazed with the remuda he noticed the same workings of the day before, another big herd was brought in from that morning's "circle," then one more that afternoon, more cattle was cut out and then singed hair floated on the breeze once more.