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“Good-by，Pedro，“hesaid——“good-by。“Pedrolookedforbread。
“No，“saidhismaster，sorrowfully，“notanymore。Yu’knowwellI’dgiveityu’ifIhadit。Youandmedidn’tfigureonthis，didwe，Pedro？Good-by！“
Hehuggedhisponyagain，andgotasfarasthebarsofthepasture，butreturnedoncemore。“Good-by，mylittlehorse，mydearhorse，mylittle，littlePedro，“hesaid，ashistearswetthepony’sneck。Thenhewipedthemwithhishand，andgothimselfbacktothebunkhouse。AfterbreakfastheandhisbelongingsdepartedtoDrybone，andPedrofromhisfieldcalmlywatchedthisdeparture；forhorsesmustrecognizeevenlessthanmentheblackcornersthattheirdestiniesturn。Theponystoppedfeedingtolookatthemail-wagonpassby；butthemastersittinginthewagonforeboretoturnhishead。
ResignedtowaitfortheJudge’shorses，Balaamwentintohisofficethisdry，brightmorningandreadnineaccumulatednewspapers；forhewasbehindhand。Thenherodeoutontheditches，andmethismanreturningwiththetroublesomeanimalsatlast。HehastenedhomeandsentfortheVirginian。Hehadmadeadecision。
“Seehere，“hesaid；“thosehorsesarecoming。WhattrailwouldyoutakeovertotheJudge’s？“
“Shortesttrail’srightthroughtheBowLaigMountains，“saidtheforeman，inhisgentlevoice。
“Guessyou’reright。It’sdinner-time。We’llstartrightafterward。We’llmakeLittleMuddyCrossingbysundown，andSunkCreekto-morrow，andthenextday’llseeusthrough。CanawagongetthroughSunkCreekCanyon？“
TheVirginiansmiled。“Ireckonitcan’t，seh，andstayresemblingawagon。“
BalaamtoldthemtosaddlePedroandonepackhorse，anddrivethebunchofhorsesintoacorral，ropingtheJudge’stwo，whoprovedextremelywild。HehaddecidedtotakethisjourneyhimselfonrememberingcertainpoliticssoontoberifeinCheyenne。ForJudgeHenrywasindeedagreatermanthanBalaam。Thispersonallyconductedreturnofthehorseswouldtemperitstardiness，and，moreover，thesightofsomeNewYorkvisitorswouldbeagoodthingaftersevenmonthsofnowarmertouchwiththatmetropolisthantheSundayHERALD，alwayseightdaysoldwhenitreachedtheButteCreekRanch。
TheyfordedButteCreek，and，crossingthewell-travelledtrailwhichfollowsdowntoDrybone，turnedtheirfacestowardtheuninhabitedcountrythatbeganimmediately，astheoceanbeginsoffasandyshore。Andasasinglemastonwhichnosailisshiningstandsatthehorizonandseemstoaddalonelinesstothesurroundingsea，sothelonggraylineoffence，almostamileaway，thatendedBalaam’slandonthissidethecreek，stretchedalongthewastegroundandaddeddesolationtotheplain。Nosolitarywatercoursewithmarginofcottonwoodsorwillowthicketsflowedheretostripethedingy，yellowworldwithinterruptinggreen，norwerecattletobeseendottingthedistance，normovingobjectsatall，noranybirdinthesoundlessair。ThelastgatewasshutbytheVirginian，wholookedbackatthepleasanttreesoftheranch，andthenfollowedoninsinglefileacrossthealkaliofNoMan’sLand。
Nocloudwasinthesky。Thedesert’sgrimnoonshonesombrelyonflatandhill。Thesagebrushwasdulllikezinc。Thickheatrosenearathandfromthecakedalkali，andpaleheatshroudedthedistantpeaks。
Therewerefivehorses。BalaamledonPedro，hissquatfigurestiffinthesaddle，butsolidasarock，andtiltedalittleforward，ashishabitwas。OneoftheJudge’shorsescamenext，asorrel，draggingbackcontinuallyontheropebywhichhewasled。AfterhimambledBalaam’swisepack-animal，carryingthelightburdenoftwodays’foodandlodging。Shewasanoldmarewhocouldstillgowhenshechose，buthadbeenschooledbytheyears，andkeptthetrail，givingnotroubletotheVirginianwhocamebehindher。Healsosatsolidasarock，yetsubtlybendingtoth
