He found it a tiny shallow stream, with some deep pools, making its way through a bed of boulders and small stones some hundreds of feet wide. On his return he ventured the comment that it did not seem to him much of a river. The cowman grunted.
"Low water," he vouchsafed. "Dry season. You oughta see her after the rains. She picks up them boulders and rolls 'em like marbles."
Throughout the afternoon they drove, until the sun was touching the rim of the hills, through what seemed to be a great natural park of alternate mesa and bottomland, with the wide oak trees spaced as though planted ornamentally. Cattle grazed or rested in large or small bands. On each of these the cowboy fixed his grave attention, staring them over deliberately as long as they remained in sight.
"That fork-ear Triangle cow has strayed over yere, I see," he remarked, "I been wonderin' where she was at."
"Do you mean to say that you can tell these animals apart, at that distance?" said Kenneth, incredulously.
"Sure."
"I suppose that you know every cow in this country by sight," observed Kenneth with sarcastic intent.
"I know most of them," replied the cowboy with a final simplicity that closed the subject.
The Corbell ranch proved to be a series of long one-storied white buildings situated on a flat below low sagebrush hills, next a deep barranca that contained a flowing streamlet, and beneath live oak trees that, contrary to the usual habit of that species, grew tall and overarching. Circular corrals of greasewood stakes had been built on the flat beyond; and a commodious rough board stable loomed large a short distance down stream. As the buckboard drew nearer Kenneth saw that the white buildings were adobe structures, plastered; set flat to the ground, with narrow verandas running their entire lengths.
At the sound of the wheels the door opened and Corbell appeared to greet him.
"I am glad you could come," said he, "and I'm sorry your
