Mart was up long before daylight. Some internal clockwork always broke him out early nowadays. In summer the first dawn might be coming on, but in the short days he woke in the dark at exactly half-past four. He started a fire in the bunk house stove, and set coffee on. Then he went out to the breaking corral into which they had thrown the horses and mules Amos had picked for the next leg of their perpetual trip.
He grained them all, then went back to the bunk -house. He set the coffee off the fire, and studied Amos for signs of arisal. He saw none, so he went out to the corral again. They carried three mules now, on account of the trading, and a spare saddle horse, in case one should pull up lame when they were in a hurry. Mart picked himself a stocky buckskin, with zebra stripes on his cannons and one down his back. He snubbed down, saddled, and bucked out this horse with his bearskin coat on; all horses took outrage at this coat, and had to be broke to it fresh every day for a while, until they got used to it.
He laid aside the bearskin to top off the great heavy stock horse he supposed Amos would ride. Its pitch was straight, and easy to sit, but had such a shock to it that his nose bled a little. Finally he got the pack saddles on the mules, and left them standing hump-backed in a sull. By this time the gray bitter dawn was on the prairie, but the white vapor from the lungs of the animals was the only sign of life around the place as yet.
Amos was sitting up on the edge of his bunk in his long-handled underwear, peering at the world through bleary lids and scratching himself.
“Well,” Mart said, “we’re saddled.”
“Huh?”
“I say I uncorked the ponies, and slung the mule forks on.”
“What did you do that for?”
“Because it’s morning, I suppose—why the hell did you think? I don’t see no smoke from the kitchen. You want I should stir up a snack?”
“We’re held up,” Amos said. “We got to go to that roof-raising.”
“Thought you said we had to flog on. Jesus, will you make up your mind?”
“I just done so. By God, will you clean out your ears?”
“Oh, hell,” Mart said, and went out to unsaddle.