The door opened and Pete Domley stood framed within it. Somehow he
seemed to have shrunk to half his small stature, as though he were a
dwarf that had come begging. His eyes were red from lack of sleep, and
blue bags were pendant beneath them. Through the open door, Joe caught a
glimpse of the white horse Pete had ridden here. For a second Joe's
anger flared anew; if Pete had watched his cattle the crops would not be
ruined. Pity for this small man who was usually as aggressive as a
bantam rooster, but who now was so abject, stole Joe's anger. He said,
"Have some breakfast, Pete."
Pete came through the door, a slow and tired man. He said, "Lance
Trevelyan told me last night they'd gone, Joe. They left their pasture
on Twoaday Crick and just went. You can't always figure what critters
will do."