The Trail Driver

A grove of pecan and walnut trees and blackBerry bushes choked the upper end of the valley with green and yellow verdure. Below it a lazy shallow stream meandered between its borders of willow. Grass grew luxuriantly all through the bottomlands, and up the gentle slopes. Dust clouds were lifting here and there where the mustangs were rolling. The drivers threw saddles, blankets, and bridles to the ground, and flopped down after them. Gloves, sombreros, chaps and boots likewise went flying. The boys were disposed to be merry and to look each other over and take stock of the whistling cook.