Ben's New Home

A second passed; then the plucking of feathers was continued.

"I reckon you've never been, though," Graham went on, "else you'd never ask that question."

During the remainder of the evening, Grannis sought no further information; and to Ma Graham's narrow life a new interest was added.

Ordinarily the cowboys went to their bunks in an adjoining shed almost directly after supper, but this evening, without giving a reason, they lingered. The housekeeper finished her work, and, coming into the main room, took a chair and sat down, her hands folded in her lap. The grouse dressed, Graham ranged them in a row upon the lean-to table, removed the apron, and lit his pipe in silence. The cowboys rolled fresh cigarettes and puffed at them steadily, the four stumps close together glowing in the dimness of the room. As everywhere upon the prairie, the quiet was almost a thing to feel.

At last, when the silence had become oppressive, the foreman took the pipe from his mouth and blew a short puff of smoke.

"Seems like the boss ought to've got back before this," he said with a sidelong glance at his wife.

Ma Graham nodded corroboration.

"Yes; must have found something wrong, I guess." She refolded her hands, and once more relapsed into silence.

It was the breaking of the ice, however.

"Where d'ye suppose the trouble could have been, Graham?" It was another late-comer, Bud Buck, young and narrow of hips, who spoke.