"Anyhow, they're going the right way, which strikes me as something to be thankful for." They rode on, and it was getting dark when they checked the herd near a straggling poplar bluff.

The grass was good, the beasts began to feed quietly, and after picketing their horses the men lay down on their blankets.

It was growing cooler, a vivid band of green still flickered along the prairie's rim, and the deep silence was intensified by the soft sound the cattle made cropping the dew-damped herbage.
"I wonder if they go to sleep," mused Edgar.

"I'm beginning to think this kind of thing must be rather fine when one gets used to it.

It's a glorious night." By and by he drew his blanket round him and sank into slumber; but for a while George, who had paid a high price for a Hereford bull, lay awake, thinking and calculating.