Chapter 16 SIXTEEN

THE HONK-HONK BREED

It was Sunday at the ranch. For a wonder the weather had been favourable; the windmills were all working, the bogs had dried up, the beef had lasted over, the remuda had not strayed-in short, there was nothing to do. Sang had given us a baked bread-pudding with raisins in it. We filled it-in a wash basin full of it-on top of