The Honorable Blake had tacitly advised them to do so; and the Happy Family never gave a thought to their being hindered when they did get ready to attend to it.
But--a pebble killed Goliath.
H.J.Owens, whose eyes were the wrong shade of blue, sat upon a rocky hilltop which overlooked the trail from Flying U Coulee and a greater portion of the shack-dotted benchland as well, and swept the far horizons with his field glasses.

Just down the eastern slope, where the jutting sandstone cast a shadow, his horse stood tied to a dejected wild-currant bush.

He laid the glasses across his knees while he refilled his pipe, and tilted his hatbrim to shield his pale blue eyes from the sun that was sliding past midday.
H.J.Owens looked at his watch, nevertheless, as though the position of the sun meant nothing to him.

He scowled a little, stretched a leg straight out before him to ease it of cramp, and afterwards moved farther along in the shade.

The wind swept past with a faint whistle, and laid the ripening grasses flat where it passed.