Drifting south, lonely cowboy Joe bumped into Canyon--and Canyon, all agreed, was one bad town to bump, but in an hour Joe rustled two meals, saved a ranch, found a friend--and drifted south again. The day promised to be fine as Joe Breedlove mounted and swung out of Prairieville. He had breakfasted well, there was money in his belt, and a sound animal carried him. It was late October; rose flame spread all along the eastern rim and the air was clear, thin and sparkling. Down in the brakes the trees glowed yellow and crimson. The ridges, wet by a recent rain, showed a verdant tinge. It was a morning to make a man heady with the surge of his blood and the expansion of his spirits.…
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