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“Which it works out exactly as the wretched Olson figgers. The sun goes down, an’ the Sunday sun comes up an’ sets again; an’ still pore Zekiel is planted by the jar, with his hopeful eyes on high, still feelin’ of them buckshot. He can’t quit no more’n if he’s loser in a poker game; Zekiel can’t. When Bill rides up to his door about second-drink time Monday afternoon, Olson is shorely even on that hawg. Thar lays Zekiel, dead. He’s jest set thar with them buck-shot an’ felt himse’f to death.

“But speakin’ of the sapiency of Bill Hoskins’s Zekiel,” continued the old gentleman as we lighted pipes and lapsed into desultory puffing, “while Zekiel for a raccoon is some deep, after all you-all is jest amazed at Zekiel ’cause I calls your attention to him a whole lot. If you was to go into camp with ’em, an’ set down an’ watch ’em, you’d shorely be s’prised to note how level-headed all animals be.

“Now if thar’s anythin’ in Arizona for whose jedgement I don’t have respect nacheral, it’s birds. Arizona for sech folks as you an’ me, an’ coyotes an’ jack-rabbits, is a good range. Sech as we-alls sorter fits into the general play an’ gets action for our stacks. But whatever a bird can find entrancin’ in some of them Southwestern deserts is allers too many for me.

“As I su’gests, I former holds fowls, who of free choice continues a residence in Arizona, as imbeciles. Yet now an’ then I observes things that makes me oncertain if I’m onto a bird’s system; an’ if after all Arizona is sech a dead kyard for birds. It’s possible a gent might be way off on birds an’ the views they holds of life. He might watch the play an’ esteem ’em loser, when from a bird’s p’int of view they’s makin’ a killin’, an’ even callin’ the turn every deal.

“What he’ps to open my eyes a lot on birds is two Road Runners Doc Peets an’ me meets up with one afternoon comin’ down from Lordsburg. These yere Road Runners is a lanky kind of prop’sition, jest a shade off from spring chickens for size. Which their arrangements as to neck an’ laigs is onrestricted an’ liberal, an’ their long suit is runnin’ up an’ down the sun-baked trails of Arizona with no object. Where he’s partic’lar strong, this yere Road Runner, is in waitin’ ontil some gent comes along, same as Doc Peets an’ me that time, an’ then attachin’ of himse’f said cavalcade an’ racin’ along ahead. A Road Runner keeps up this exercise for miles, an’ be about the length of a lariat ahead of your pony’s nose all the time. When you- all lets out a link or two an’ stiffens your pony with the spur, the Road Runner onbuckles sim’lar an’ exults tharat. You ain’t goin’ to run up on him while he can wave a laig, you can gamble your last chip, an’ you confers favors on him by sendin’ your pony at him. Thar he stays, rackin’ along ahead of you ontil satiated. Usual thar’s two Road Run. ners, an’ they clips it along side by side as if thar’s somethin’ in it for ’em; an’ I reckons, rightly saveyed, thar is. However, the profits to Road Runners of them excursions ain’t obvious, none whatever; so I won’t try to set ’em forth. Them journeys they makes up an’ down the trail shorely seems aimless to me.

“But about Doc Peets an’ me pullin’ out from Lordsburg for Wolfville that evenin’: Our ponies is puttin’ the landscape behind ’em at a good road-gait when we notes a brace of them Road Runners with wings half lifted, pacin’ to match our speed along the trail in front. As Road Runners is frequent with us, our minds don’t bother with ’em none. Now an’ then Doc an’ me can see they converses as they goes speedin’ along a level or down a slope. It’s as if one says to t’other, somethin’ like this yere