"
"Don't worry, Will," he answered. "I'm not goin' to start anything. If I
should happen to be right about Mr. Honorable Patches, he's exactly
where we want him. I propose to keep my eye on him, that's all. And I
think you an' Phil had better do the same."
CHAPTER XI.
AFTER THE RODEO.
As the fall rodeo swept on its way over the wide ranges, the last
reluctant bits of summer passed, and hints of the coming winter began to
appear The yellow glory of the goldenrod, and the gorgeous banks of
color on sunflower flats faded to earthy russet and brown; the white
cups of the Jimson weed were broken and lost; the dainty pepper-grass,
the thin-leafed grama-grass, and the heavier bladed bear-grass of the
great pasture lands were dry and tawny; and the broom-weed that had
tufted the rolling hills with brighter green, at the touch of the first
frost, turned a dull and somber gray; while the varied beauties of the
valley meadows became even as the dead and withered leaves of the Dean's
walnut trees that, in falling, left the widespread limbs and branches so
bare.
Then the rodeo and the shipping were over; the weeks of the late fall
range riding were past--and it was winter.
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