Now at a certain point on the road lived a large black dog—­just plain ranch dog—­who was accustomed to come bounding out to the road to run alongside and bark for an appropriate interval.  This was an unvarying ceremony.  He was a large and prancing dog; and, I suppose from his appearance, must have been named Carlo.  In the course of our many visits to the ranch we grew quite fond of the dog, and always looked as hard for him to come out as he did for us to come along.

This day also the dog came forth; but now he had no steady-trotting ranch team to greet.  The road was smooth and straight, and the car was hitting thirty-five miles an hour.  The dog bounded confidently down the front walk, leaping playfully in the air, opened his mouth to bark—­and, behold! the vehicle was not within range any more, but thirty yards away and rapidly departing.  So Carlo shut his mouth and got down to business.  For three hundred yards he managed to keep pace alongside; but the effort required all his forces; not once did he manage to gather wind for even a single bark.

Redmond in the front seat sat straighter than ever.  From his lordly elevation he waved a lordly hand at the poor dog.

“Useless!  Useless!” said he, loftily.

And looking back at the dog seated panting in a rapidly disappearing distance, we saw that he also knew that the Old Order had changed.

THE END

FOOTNOTES: 

     [Footnote A:  Oiler = Greaser = Mexican.]

     [Footnote B:  Saddle pockets that fit on the pommel.]

     [Footnote C:  3,350, to be exact.  We later measured it.]

     [Footnote D:  3,350 feet—­later measurement.]

     [Footnote E:  355 paces.]

     [Footnote F:  Somewhere between 500 and 700 yards.  I am very practised at pacing and guessing such distances.]

     [Footnote G:  Ten years later sentence of death was passed and
     carried out after they had killed one wheelbarrow load of
     broilers!]

     [Footnote H:  This chapter was written in the—­alas—­vanished past!]