"I'm not cold," he said. "It's hardly dark yet. I'd sooner go outdoors and look around."
The elder man regarded him curiously, perhaps with the faintest glimmer of admiration. "You'd better wait till to-morrow, Dan," he replied. "Bill will have supper soon, anyway. To-morrow we 'll walk up the ridge and I 'll see if I can show you a deer. You don't want to overdo too much, right at first."
"But, good Heavens! I'm not going to try to spare myself while I'm here. It's too late for that."
"Of course—but sit down now, anyway. I'm sorry that Snowbird is n't here."
"Snowbird is—"
"My daughter. My boy, she can make a biscuit! That's not her name, of course, but we've always called her that. She got tired of keeping house and is working this summer. Poor Bill has to keep house for her, and no wonder he's eager to take the stock down to the lower levels. I only wish he had n't brought 'em up this spring at all; I've lost dozens from the coyotes."
"But a coyote can't kill cattle—"
"It can if it has hydrophobia, a common thing in the varmints this time of year. But as I say, Bill will take the stock down next season,
