TO PINON WELL 137 



ing insects. So we hauled and skimmed and ladled 

 till the animals had got their fill. The canon there- 

 abouts must be well sprinkled with bee-caves, and 

 some one who enjoys the sort of thing might find 

 exciting bee-hunting, with honey by the barrel. 



Then Emmons stripped to the waist and went to 

 work with curry-comb and brush at his horses while 

 they fed. No doubt they earned the care he lavished 

 on them, but it is not every faithful animal's master 

 that will take his turn and sweat for them as they 

 have sweated for him. When supper-time came he 

 would not hear of my drawing on my saddle-bag 

 stores. "Say, I'll have to call you down," he said 

 genially. "If you'd carried your blankets forty 

 years, like I have, you'd know better 'n that. How 

 many eggs do you eat, that 's what I want to know? 

 Will four do you? That 's my figure." And when next 

 day it came to settling our accounts, he was scornful 

 at the idea of my paying for what I had eaten of his 

 supplies. "It's all right about the hay and grain, 

 they cost money," he argued; "but eggs and such 

 truck — oh, shucks!" And shucks it had to be, at 

 risk of giving offence. Profane my friendly freighter 

 was, alas ! at strenuous moments, but it was not pro- 

 fanity of the usual gross type, and seemed almost 

 automatic. Experience makes me wonder, indeed, if 

 there has ever been a really successful Western 

 teamster who was free from this vice. 



Waking about midnight, I noticed Emmons get 

 up, light a lantern, and again water his animals, 

 taking them one by one the hundred yards to the 

 well and back; after which he threw them down 



