He lost all count of time, and was startled when at last came gray dawn.
As the light grew brighter his eyes widened and forgot their sleep-hunger; he had not thought it would be like this.

He was riding part way across one end of a herd larger than his imagination had ever pictured; three thousand cattle had seemed to him a multitude--yet here were more than twenty thousand, wet, draggled, their backs humped miserably from the rain which but a half hour since had ceased.

He was still gazing and wondering when Park rode up to him.
"Lord! Bud, you're a sight! Did the bunch walk over yuh ?" he greeted.
"No, only Sunfish," snapped Thurston crossly.

Time was when Philip Thurston would not have answered any man abruptly, however great the provocation.

He was only lately getting down to the real, elemental man of him; to the son of Bill Thurston, bull-whacker, prospector, follower of dim trails.