Several minutes passed and the two young surveyors stood motionless, studying the weather tanned figure in front of them. His chaps were of darkened brown leather with smears of green from the heavy brush. His eyes were dark and masked by the shadow of his black hat, but visibly deep set. His long sideburns were black with streaks of white gray in them. The stranger's mouth was a stern line above his long stout chin which bristled with several day's growth. His shirt was red faded wool; the levis were more gray than blue. His woolly white horse jangled the bit in its mouth and finally shook its neck at a swarm of gnats, making a flapping jangly sound with the bridle. This made Perry and Goldsberry jump after the utter quietness of the meeting. Upon seeing the young men jump so, the stern weather tanned face softened into a smile. "You sons a beeches drink some coffee?" Both boys sighed a quick spurt of air and headed over at a friendly pace. "You sons a beeches are nuevo here, aint ya," "What do you mean?" Goldsberry asked as the herder dismounted. The herder turned and loosened the cinches and slid the worn hand tooled saddle off and down onto a barkless log. "I said you sons a beeches ain't used to being in the mountains," the herder said in a strong latin accent. "What makes you think that?" Perry asked. The rider turned and faced them. "Thee way you tripped in the muskrat hole crossing the meadow and thee way your silver bounces when you walk." "You've got a point there...in fact your right," replied Goldsberry, half chuckling. "I'm Bruce Perry and this is Kent Goldsberry. We're surveying a new road up here for the Forest Service. What's your name?" Jose." "Jose what?" "Jose Mendosa." "Are you Spanish?" asked Goldsberry. "No, Basque," replied Jose, obviously quite proud of the distinction. "Doesn't it ever get quite lonely up here, year after year?" Perry asked. "Any son of a beech that lives up here for a while will start to call it home," Jose said, turning his back and starting toward his four wheeled sheep camper. He opened the door and stepped up on in and then back down and poured some water into a well scoured aluminum coffee pot from out of a five gallon Conoco SAE 30 can. "Come on in fellas." The coffee was strong and black. "Want some sugar, Gringo?" Jose said looking at Perry. Jose sat on the only chair in the little hutlike camp on the left side by the small wood stove. Perry and Goldsberry sat across from him on the narrow bunk. The green army blankets were pulled up neatly covering the bunk as if it were in a hotel. "How do you keep this place so clean?" Perry asked, "Everything is so orderly." He glanced around the small camp. The aluminum pans and cups all scoured bright hung from their hooks in the cupboard whose 36 plywood door had been swung down to form the table...the fire in the small stove was warm and added to the early evening heat. Perry swigged down the last of his black coffee and wiped his sweaty forehead with the back of his dusty hand leaving several muddy streaks, "Well, Goldsberry?" "Yeah, Perry, We'd better be making tracks," Goldsberry said as he gulped his last grounds filled swallow. "We've still got to get back to our truck and then twelve miles back down to our trailer. "Say, Mr. Mendoza...('Call me Jose')...okay, Jose, would it be okay if we drive down into here in the morning and leave our truck here by your camp?" "I reckon, but thee boss if he comes up might throw rocks at it. He hates anything about the Forest Service or Government. I don't think we have problem tomorrow, I have coffee for you in the morning." "Adios," Perry said. "Goodbye," replied Jose with a smile. The cool morning sun gleamed off the dusty green hood of the Chevy pick up as it bounced to a stop in a cloud of powdery gray dust and pulled slowly up onto the meadow sod at the side of the two dusty ruts "Jose's horse is gone, I guess he's already gone out to check the sheep," Perry said as he fastened his canteen to his belt. "Here he comes up from the other way," Goldsberry said pointing down the road.. "Let's head down and meet him, We've got to go down there any way." "Sorry fellas, I couldn't make coffee this morning. God damn bobcat got into thee sheep last night, killed an old ewe. Tracked him since dawn. Finally got thee bitchen thing." he said stroking the scabbard and stock of the 30-30. "How many shots?" Perry asked. "Two," replied Jose, "One for San Jorge. "You fellas go into town during the week?" Jose asked. "Yeah, we're going in tonight after white gas and mail, can we get you anything?" Goldsberry replied. "My son of a beechen pen gone dry last week and I have to write my family." "You have a family?" Perry said almost too surprisedly. "Wife and five muchachos, two married, one will graduate from Albuquerque High School next spring," Jose said with a touch of pride in his voice. "Do you ever get to see them?" inquired Perry. "Yep, every fall we trail the critters into Lander and then the boss trucks them to winter range in thee land of Nevada. It is this time that I always go back to my family," he said with a far away look in his eye. He reached down into his pocket and pulled out a small leather drawstring bag. He opened the mouth of the bag and dumped out two silver dollars. "This is for a pen and if you could I would really like a 37