For some time now he had been a part of the Los Muertos staff.

On Quien Sabe, as on the other ranches, the slack season was at hand.

While waiting for the wheat to come up no one was doing much of anything.
Vanamee had come over to Los Muertos and spent most of his days on horseback, riding the range, rounding up and watching the cattle in the fourth division of the ranch.

But if the vagabond instinct now roused itself in the strange fellow's nature, a counter influence had also set in.

More and more Vanamee frequented the Mission garden after nightfall, sometimes remaining there till the dawn began to whiten, lying prone on the ground, his chin on his folded arms, his eyes searching the darkness over the little valley of the Seed ranch, watching, watching.