The coming autumn she would have old ewes and wether lambs to ship sufficient to cover her expenses, while the sale of her wool at present prices would enable her to grade up her herds to a point that would be approximately where she would have them. She had seen too many hard winters and short ranges ever again to be over-sanguine, but she knew that unless some unprecedented loss came to her she was well on the way to the fulfillment of her ambition. A few good years and the "Sheep Queen of Bitter Creek" would no longer be a title of derision. But these thoughts were her secrets and she had no confidants. Bowers was the nearest approach to one, but even he knew nothing of the incentive which made her seemingly tireless herself and possessed of a driving energy that made all who worked for her fully earn their wages.
Bowers was preparing breakfast by lamplight when Kate clanged the triangle of iron to awaken two herders asleep in their "tarps" under the willows. They crawled out in the clothes in which they had slept, dishevelled and grumbling.
They breakfasted by lamplight, seated on benches on either side of the long table improvised from boards and cross-pieces of two-by-fours. There was no tablecloth and the dishes were of agate-ware as formerly. Kate ate hurriedly and in silence, but the usual airy persiflage went on between Bowers and the herders.
"It near froze ice this mornin'," Bowers observed by way of making conversation. "I was so cold that I had to shiver myself into a pressperation before I could get breakfast."
"I slept chilly all night," said Bunch, and added, looking askance at his erstwhile bed-fellow, "They ain't no more heat in Oleson than a rattler."
"Looks like you'd steal yurself a blanket somewhur," Bowers commented.
"I wouldn't a slept the fore part of last night anyhow," Bunch said pointedly.
"I hope I didn't keep you awake with my singin'?" Bowers's voice expressed a world of solicitude.
"Was that you makin' that comical noise?" Bunch elevated his brows in astonishment. "I thought one of the horses was down, and chokin'."
Bowers slammed a pyramid of pancakes upon the table.
"Why don't you take a shovel, Bunch?" he demanded. "You're losin' time eatin' with your knife and fingers."
"These sweat-pads of yourn would be pretty fair if 'twant fur the lumps of sody a feller's allus bitin' into," the herder commented.
"Maybe you'd ruther do the cookin' so you kin git 'em to suit you," Bowers retorted, nettled.
"Oh, I ain't kickin'--I lived with Injuns a year and I kin eat anything."