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THE HUNTING OF BUD HOWLANDBy Calvin H. LutherILLUSTRATION BY FRANK TENNEY JOHNSONTHE train for Seven Palms upon me. "What are you-all waitinghad come and gone, five for?" he asked.sombreros waving farewell "Just to see the up-train go by," I answered,still in a maze. to me from the windows."But— ButIt had roared out upon us, say— You were with the others ona fuming dragon, from the the train; I saw you! How in theshimmer of a mirage, and now already had world "become a creeping lizard, black against "Changed my mind, sort of," he answered,his lean hand waving aside thethe sage slopes of Stark Mountain—athing worth seeing, especially to one who topic as of no importance. "I've got ahad been for weeks away from the miracleslittle hoss over to Pedro's, nine miles fromof civilization. I would wait for the here. Thought maybe you'd edge overnorth-bound train, soon due to pass; wait there with me—let me canter along onto see the lizard become a dragon, and the foot; and then we could go up-country together.dragon plunge ravening into the mirage.That is, if you ain't particular."Then for my horse, now drooping in the "Fine!" I cried. "We'll start now."barred shadows of the cattle-pens, andthe long trail westward.There had been a raven to watch; therehad been pillars and palls of smoke—but"Might as well," he said, rubbing hissquare jaw; but he made no move to rise."Sure you ain't particular?""Oh, come along!" I shouted, alreadynow there was nothing but sand, sage, half-way to the horse. "I'm pleased tocactus, and the pallid sky. The roar and death!"echo of the train had long since fallen toa rustle, and finally to a special kind of"Well, I can stand considerable moreof you, on a pinch," he returned, followingsilence. . . . Odd, to be so suddenlyalong. " But the rest of that out­alone; odd, but not yet unpleasant. fit—" He spat.I sat down in the sand and looked at "Where's your pack? I'll carry it."the sand, thinking over that hunting trip. "Pack's on the train; I'm foot-loose,There had been game enough, good fellowshipI am," he smiled up at me. "Nothingof a sort, and a pleasant tang of ad­to tote but this 'ere," and he touched theventure—to visit an unmapped region holster of his forty-five. "I'll keep holdwith unknown companions. But, after of that, if you ain't particular."all, it had been tame and profitless.There had been no thrills, no flashes ofSo men still carried revolvers, the holstersunbuckled and in reach of the hand !fear or moments of exaltation; I had That two-hour walk to Pedro's was hotlearned nothing new about nature or the and hard enough. It should have beenthing called human nature. For me hereafter,measured by degrees, with a thermombag.I resolved, the hammer and fossileter,as I suggested to Hank; or in shov-A new crinoid, now; or a phacops elsful, as he said, ploughing along by myeleganslstirrup. He would not change with me,Just then a shadow moved out from though, but jolted steadily, patiently forward,behind the cattle-pens, and jolting alonghis red face glistening with perspira­after it a bow-legged, sand-colored man, tion, dust marking out the wrinkles of hiswith a long nose and drooping mustache. neck and jaw, hat tilted against the sun." Hank !" I cried. " What in the name Once or twice he nodded significantly atof thunder?"my canteen; but he would not drink."Thought I wouldn't bother you, at We weren't there yet, he cautioned; andfirst," he explained, calmly seating himself.you never could tell. . . . So, mile upon"Reckoned you'd be going right mile we fought it out, saying little andsoon." He turned his mild blue eyes thinking less. Then—a leafless cotton-VOL.LXVI—449