The Old Man bellowed back like a wild bull from his bed in the next room to mine. Next morning when the Old Man called I pretended to delay until he was dressed and gone. Not till long afterward did I discover that the Old Man was awake and watching me all the time. I rode proudly down the mountain, hoping to find the Old Man now and say offhand, like nothing at all, “Killed a lion on the mesa. He had spoken as one man does to another, not as a man to a boy, not as the Old Man to me.