“Yes, some don’t learn, some only half learn, an’ some learn in a way that carries ’em along ’til it comes to a pinch—­they’re the worst.  But, speakin’ of Win, after I caught that look, the only surprise I got when I heard he’d killed Purdy was that he could do it—­not that he would.  Then later, under certain circumstances that come to pass in a coulee where there was cottonwoods, him an’ I got better acquainted yet.  An’ then in the matter of the reservoir—­but you know more about that than I do.  You see what I’m gettin’ at is this:  Win can saddle his own horse, now, an’ he climbs onto him from the left side.  The next time he tackles it he’ll shave, an’ the next time he muds up a catch-basin he’ll mud it right.  Day before yesterday he was about as useless a lookin’ piece of bric-a-brac as ever draw’d breath—­an’ look at him now!  There ain’t been any real change.  The man was there all the time, only he was so well disguised that no one ever know’d it—­himself least of all.  Yesterday I saw him take a chew off Bat’s plug—­an’ Bat don’t offer his plug promiscuous.  He’ll go back East, an’ the refinement will cover him up again—­an’ that’s a damned shame.  But he won’t be just the same.  It won’t crust over no more, because the prejudice is gone.  He’s chewed the meat of the cow country—­an’ he’s found it good.”

Later, long after the others had gone to sleep, Alice lay between her blankets in the little shelter tent, thinking.

CHAPTER XV

THE TEXAN HEARS SOME NEWS

Bat had pitched the tent upon a little knoll, screened by a jutting shoulder of rock from the sleeping place of the others.  When Alice awoke it was broad daylight.  She lay for a few moments enjoying the delicious luxury of her blankets which the half-breed had spread upon a foot-thick layer of boughs.  The sun beat down upon the white canvas and she realized that it was hot in the tent.  The others must have been up for hours and she resented their not having awakened her.  She listened for sounds, but outside all was silence and she dressed hurriedly.  Stepping from the tent, she saw the dead ashes of the little fire and the contents of the packs apparently undisturbed, covered with the tarp.  She glanced at her watch.  It was half past nine.  Suddenly she remembered that dawn had already began to grey the east when they retired.  She was the first one up!  She would let the others sleep.  They needed it.  She remembered the Texan had not slept the day before, but had ridden away to return later with the clothing for Endicott—­and the whiskey.

“I don’t see why he has to drink!” she muttered, and making her way to the spring, dipped some water from the catch-basin and splashed it over her face and arms.  The cold water dispelled the last vestige of sleepiness and she stood erect and breathed deeply of the crystal air.  At the farther side of the bowl-like plateau the horses grazed contentedly, and a tiny black and white woodpecker flew from tree to tree pecking busily at the bark.  Above the edge of the rim-rocks the high-flung peaks of the Bear Paws belied the half-night’s ride that separated them from the isolated Antelope Butte.