One of the hounds bayed full and clear.
The scene was pastoral and beautiful.

Wade saw it clearly and whole.
Peace and plenty, a happy rancher's home, the joy of the dawn and the birth of summer, the rewards of toil--all seemed significant there.

But Wade pondered on how pregnant with life that scene was--nature in its simplicity and freedom and hidden cruelty, and the existence of people, blindly hating, loving, sacrificing, mostly serving some noble aim, and yet with baseness among them, the lees with the wine, evil intermixed with good.
By and by the cowboys appeared on their spring mustangs, and in twos and threes they rode off in different directions.

But none rode Wade's way.
The sun rose higher, and there was warmth in the air.

Bees began to hum by Wade, and fluttering moths winged uncertain flight over him.
At the end of another hour Jack Belllounds came out of the house, gazed around him, and then stalked to the barn where he kept his horses.