After breakfast, as they were leading their horses up the weed-grown path to the cabin to saddle them, Pinkey's eye rested on the flowing salt water stream.
"Can you beat it!" he commented. "Good for nuthin' but a bathin' pool fer dudes----"
Wallie stopped in the path and looked at the friend of his bosom.
"Pink," he said, solemnly, "why wouldn't this make a dude ranch?"
Pinkey stared back at him.
"Gentle Annie," he replied, finally, "I told you long ago you was good fer somethin' if we could jest hit on it. You're a born duder!"
"Thanks! I feel as complimented as the fellow in the Passion Play who is cast for Judas Iscariot."
"I don't know what you're talkin' about--I've only seen a few draymas--but you got the looks and the figger and a way about you that I've noticed takes with women. You'd make a great dude wrangler. Bleeve me, you've thought of somethin'!"
"I wasn't thinking of myself, but of the place here--the scenery--the climate--fishing in the mountains--hunting in season----"
"And"--Pinkey interrupted--"the strongest stream of salt water in the state fer mineral baths, with the Yellowstone Park in your front dooryard!"
In his enthusiasm he pounded Wallie on the back.
"It would be an asset, having the Park so close," the latter agreed, his eyes shining.
Pinkey went on: "You kin run dudes whur you can't run sheep or cattle. What you need is room--and we're there with the room. Fresh air, grasshoppers, views any way you look--why, man, you got everything!"
"Except money," said Wallie, suddenly.
Pinkey's face lengthened.
"I hadn't thought of that."
For an instant they felt crushed. It was such a precipitous descent to earth after their flight.
They walked to the cabin, and saddled in a silence which was broken finally by Pinkey, who said vindictively: "I'd rob a train to git money enough to turn fifty head of dudes loose on Canby. He'd be mad enough to bite himself. If he could help it he wouldn't have a neighbour within a hundred miles."
Wallie's thoughts were bitter as he remembered the many injuries he had suffered at Canby's hands. It was a subject upon which he dared not trust himself to talk--it stirred him too much, although he had long ago decided that since he was powerless to retaliate there was nothing to do but take his medicine. As he made no response, Pinkey continued while he tightened the cinch: "If you could make a dude ranch out o' this and worry him enough, he'd give you about any price you asked, to quit."
"I'd ask plenty," Wallie replied, grimly, "but it's no use to talk."