The radiant purple and red and gold above him deepened, darkened.

The whole wild expanse of half-barren land became suddenly a place of unearthly beauty that dulled to the shadows of dusk.

Buddy trudged on, keeping to the deep-worn buffalo trails which the herd had followed and scored afresh with their hoofs.

He could not miss his way-not Buddy, son of Bob Birnie, owner of the Tomahawk outfit-but his legs were growing pretty tired, and he was so hungry that he could have sat down on the ground and cried with the gnawing food-call of his empty little stomach.
He could hear other voices shouting at intervals now, but Ezra's voice was the loudest and the closest, and it seemed to Buddy that Ezra never once stopped calling.

Twice Buddy called back that he was a-comin', but Ezra shouted just the same: "OOO-EE! WHAH Y' ALL, BUDDY?
OOO-EE!" Imperceptibly dusk deepened to darkness.