Tod had other and more successful rivals than Homer Simpson. One of the most important was a young man called Earle Shoop.

Earle was a cowboy from a small town in Arizona. He worked occasionally in horse-operas and spent the rest of his time in front of a saddlery store on Sunset Boulevard. In the window of this store was an enormous Mexican saddle covered with carved silver, and around it was arranged a large collection of torture instruments. Among other things there were fancy, braided quirts, spurs with great spiked wheels, and double bits that looked as though they could break a horse’s jaw without trouble. Across the back of the window ran a low shelf on which was a row of boots, some black, some red and some a pale yellow. All of the boots had scalloped tops and very high heels.

Earle always stood with his back to the window, his eyes fixed on a sign on the roof of a one-story building across the street that read: “Malted Milks Too Thick For A Straw.” Regularly, twice every hour, he pulled a sack of tobacco and a sheaf of papers from his shirt pocket and rolled a cigarette. Then he tightened the cloth of his trousers by lifting his knee and struck a match along the underside of his thigh.

He was over six feet tall. The big Stetson hat he wore added five inches more to his height and the heels of his boots still another three. His polelike appearance was further exaggerated by the narrowness of his shoulders and by his lack of either hips or buttocks. The years he had spent in the saddle had not made him bowlegged. In fact his legs were so straight that his dungarees, bleached very light blue by the sun and much washing, hung down without a wrinkle, as though they were empty.

Tod could see why Faye thought him handsome. He had a two-dimensional face that a talented child might have drawn with a ruler and a compass. His chin was perfectly round and his eyes, which were wide apart, were also round. His thin mouth ran at right angles to his straight, perpendicular nose. His reddish tan complexion was the same color from hairline to throat, as though washed in by an expert, and it completed his resemblance to a mechanical drawing.

Tod had told Faye that Earle was a dull fool. She agreed laughing, but then said that he was “criminally handsome,” an expression she had picked up in the chatter column of a trade paper.

Meeting her on the stairs one night, Tod asked if she would go to dinner with him.

“I can’t. I’ve got a date. But you can come along.”

“With Earle?”

“Yes, with Earle,” she repeated, mimicking his annoyance.

“No, thanks.”

She misunderstood, perhaps on purpose, and said, “He’ll treat this time.”

Earle was always broke and whenever Tod went with them he was the one who paid.

“That isn’t it, and you damn well know it.”

“Oh, isn’t it?” she asked archly, then, absolutely sure of herself, added, “Meet us at Hodge’s around five.”

Hodge’s was the saddlery store. When Tod got there, he found Earle Shoop at his usual post, just standing and just looking at the sign across the street. He had on his ten-gallon hat and his high-heeled boots. Neatly folded over his left arm was a dark gray jacket. His shirt was navy-blue cotton with large polka dots, each the size of a dime. The sleeves of his shirt were not rolled, but pulled to the middle of his forearm and held there by a pair of fancy, rose armbands. His hands were the same clean reddish tan as his face.

“Lo, thar,” was the way he returned Tod’s salute.

Tod found his Western accent amusing. The first time he had heard it, he had replied, “Lo, thar, stranger,” and had been surprised to discover that Earle didn’t know he was being kidded. Even when Tod talked about “cayuses,” “mean hombres” and “rustlers,” Earle took him seriously.

“Howdy, partner,” Tod said.

Next to Earle was another Westerner in a big hat and boots, sitting on his heels and chewing vigorously on a little twig. Close behind him was a battered paper valise held together by heavy rope tied with professional-looking knots.

Soon after Tod arrived a third man came along. He made a thorough examination of the merchandise in the window, then turned and began to stare across the street like the other two.

He was middle-aged and looked like an exercise boy from a racing stable. His face was completely covered with a fine mesh of wrinkles, as though he had been sleeping with it pressed against a roll of rabbit wire. He was very shabby and had probably sold his big hat, but he still had his boots.

“Lo, boys,” he said.

“Lo, Hink,” said the man with the paper valise.

Tod didn’t know whether he was included in the greeting, but took a chance and replied.

“Howdy.”

Hink prodded the valise with his toe.

“Coin’ some place, Calvin?” he asked.

“Azusa, there’s a rodeo.”

“Who’s running it?”

“A fellow calls himself ‘Badlands jack.’”

“That grifter! . . . You goin’, Earle?”

“Nope.”

“I gotta eat,” said Calvin.

Hink carefully considered all the information he had received before speaking again.

“Mono’s makin’ a new Buck Stevens,” he said. “Will Ferris told me they’d use more than forty riders.”

Calvin turned and looked up at Earle.

“Still got the piebald vest?” he asked slyly.

“Why?”

“It’ll cinch you a job as a road agent.”

Tod understood that this was a joke of some sort because Calvin and Hink chuckled and slapped their thighs loudly while Earle frowned.

There was another long silence, then Calvin spoke again. “Ain’t your old man still got some cows?” he asked Earle. But Earle was wary this time and refused to answer. Calvin winked at Tod, slowly and elaborately, contorting one whole side of his face.

“That’s right, Earle,” Hink said. “Your old man’s still got some stock. Why don’t you go home?”

They couldn’t get a rise out of Earle, so Calvin answered the question.

“He dassint. He got caught in a sheep car with a pair of rubber boots on.”

It was another joke. Calvin and Hink slapped their thighs and laughed, but Tod could see that they were waiting for something else. Earle, suddenly, without even shifting his weight, shot his foot out and kicked Calvin solidly in the rump. This was the real point of the joke. They were delighted by Earle’s fury. Tod also laughed. The way Earle had gone from apathy to action without the usual transition was funny. The seriousness of his violence was even funnier.

A little while later, Faye drove by in her battered Ford touring car and pulled into the curb some twenty feet away. Calvin and Hink waved, but Earle didn’t budge. He took his time, as befitted his dignity. Not until she tooted her horn did he move. Tod followed a short distance behind him.

“Hi, cowboy,” said Faye gaily.

“Lo, honey,” he drawled, removing his hat carefully and replacing it with even greater care. Faye smiled at Tod and motioned for them both to climb in. Tod got in the back. Earle unfolded the jacket he was carrying, slapped it a few times to remove the wrinkles, then put it on and adjusted its collar and shaped the roll of its lapels. He then climbed in beside Faye. She started the car with a jerk. When she reached LaBrea, she turned right to Hollywood Boulevard and then left along it. Tod could see that she was watching Earle out of the corner of her eye and that he was preparing to speak.

“Get going,” she said, trying to hurry him.

“What is it?”

“Looka here, honey, I ain’t got any dough for supper.” She was very much put out.

“But I told Tod we’d treat him. He’s treated us enough times.”

“That’s all right,” Tod interposed. “Next time’ll do. I’ve got plenty of money.”

“No, damn it,” she said without looking around. “I’m sick of it.”

She pulled into the curb and slammed on the brakes.

“It’s always the same story,” she said to Earle.

He adjusted his hat, his collar and his sleeves, then spoke. “We’ve got some grub at camp.”

“Beans, I suppose.”

“Nope.”

She prodded him.

“Well, what’ve you got?”

“Mig and me’s set some traps.”

Faye laughed.

“Rat traps, eh? We’re going to eat rats.”

Earle didn’t say anything.

“Listen, you big, strong, silent dope,” she said, “either make sense, or God damn it, get out of this car.”

“They’re quail traps,” he said without the slightest change in his wooden, formal manner.

She ignored his explanation.

“Talking to you is like pulling teeth. You wear me out.” Tod knew that there was no hope for him in this quarrel. He had heard it all before.

“I didn’t mean nothing,” Earle said. “I was only funning. I wouldn’t feed you rats.”

She slammed off the emergency brake and started the car again. At Zacarias Street, she turned into the hills. After climbing steadily for a quarter of a mile, she reached a dirt road and followed it to its end. They all climbed out, Earle helping Faye.

“Give me a kiss,” she said, smiling her forgiveness.

He took his hat off ceremoniously and placed it on the hood of the car, then wrapped his long arms around her. They paid no attention to Tod, who was standing off to one side watching them. He saw Earle close his eyes and pucker up his lips like a little boy. But there was nothing boyish about what he did to her. When she had had as much as she wanted, she pushed him away.

“You, too?” she called gaily to Tod, who had turned his back.

“Oh, some other time,” he replied, imitating her casualness.

She laughed, then took out a compact and began to fix her mouth. When she was ready, they started along a little path that was a continuation of the dirt road. Earle led, Faye came next and Tod brought up the rear.

It was full spring. The path ran along the bottom of a narrow canyon and wherever weeds could get a purchase in its steep banks they flowered in purple, blue and yellow. Orange poppies bordered the path. Their petals were wrinkled like crepe and their leaves were heavy with talcumlike dust.

They climbed until they reached another canyon. This one was sterile, but its bare ground and jagged rocks were even more brilliantly colored than the flowers of the first. The path was silver, grained with streaks of rose-gray, and the walls of the canyon were turquoise, mauve, chocolate and lavender. The air itself was vibrant pink.

They stopped to watch a humming bird chase a blue jay. The jay flashed by squawking with its tiny enemy on its tail like a ruby bullet. The gaudy birds burst the colored air into a thousand glittering particles like metal confetti.

When they came out of this canyon, they saw below them a little green valley thick with trees, mostly eucalyptus, with here and there a poplar and one enormous black live-oak. Sliding and stumbling down a dry wash, they made for the valley.

Tod saw a man watching their approach from t............