Their minds were full of their long, hard rides, their wild and varying experiences with mad cattle and bucking broncos, their anxious watchings through hot nights, when a breath of wind or a coyote's howl might set the herd off in a frantic stampede, their wolf hunts and badger fights and all the marvellous adventures that fill up a cowboy's summer.

Now these were all behind them.

To-night they were free men and of independent means, for their season's pay was in their pockets.

The day's excitement, too, was still in their blood, and they were ready for anything.
Bill, as king of the bronco-busters, moved about with the slow, careless indifference of a man sure of his position and sure of his ability to maintain it.
He spoke seldom and slowly, was not as ready-witted as his partner, Hi Kendal, but in act he was swift and sure, and "in trouble" he could be counted on.

He was, as they said, "a white man; white to the back," which was understood to sum up the true cattle man's virtues.
"Hello, Bill," said a friend, "where's Hi?
Hain't seen him around!" "Well, don't jest know.