Page:J Allan Dunn--The Girl of Ghost Mountain.djvu/151



was always the first man up on the Circle S. Sheridan was ever a close second. He felt that he should be at least one jump ahead of the men who worked for and with him. The first level ray of the sun over the saw tooths was signal for Quong's clarion on the gong, the welcome call to breakfast, or, as the cowboys termed it, to "chuck," though it was beginning to be agreed that this word was unsuitable to the quality of Quong's meals. He not only cooked them well but served them appetizingly.

This morning, the second since Sheridan had talked with Mary Burrows of the possibility of a farmer President, Jackson had judiciously waited until after the meal was over before he gave out the orders for the day. The job on hand was one of those hated by the average cowboy as a cat hates water, the digging of postholes and the setting up of a new section of fencing. It meant divorce from their horses, almost as much a separation as the dismemberment of a centaur into two parts; it meant leaving off their beloved high-heeled boots; it meant blisters and backaches.

But it had to be done and Quong's breakfast, digesting perfectly, eased the breaking of the sad news. Fence-posts had already been drawn from