CHAPTER XIII.
We Meet Once More.
I think it was about three weeks that I stayed with the round-up.

I didn't get tired of the life, or weary of honest labor, or anything of that sort.
I think the trouble was that I grew accustomed to the life, so that the exhilarating effects of it wore off, or got so soaked into my system that I began to take it all as a matter of course.

And that, naturally, left room for other things.
I know I'm no good at analysis, and that's as close as I can come to accounting for my welching, the third week out.

You see, we were working south and west, and getting farther and farther away from--well, from the part of country that I knew and liked best.

It's kind of lonesome, leaving old landmarks behind you; so when White Divide dropped down behind another range of hills and I couldn't turn in my saddle almost any time and see the jagged, blue sky-line of her, I stood it for about two days.