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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Sundown Slim, by Henry Hubert Knibbs
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Sundown Slim
+
+Author: Henry Hubert Knibbs
+
+Illustrator: Anton Fischer
+
+Release Date: July 20, 2005 [EBook #16334]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SUNDOWN SLIM ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Al Haines
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Frontispiece: "You!" she exclaimed. "You!"]
+
+
+
+
+
+
+SUNDOWN SLIM
+
+
+BY
+
+HENRY HERBERT KNIBBS
+
+
+
+WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY
+
+ANTON FISCHER
+
+
+
+
+
+
+NEW YORK
+
+GROSSET & DUNLAP
+
+PUBLISHERS
+
+
+
+
+COPYRIGHT, 1915, BY HENRY HERBERT KNIBBS
+
+ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
+
+
+Published May 1915
+
+
+
+
+DEDICATED TO
+
+EVERETT E. HARASZTHY
+
+
+
+
+
+Contents
+
+Chapter
+
+          ARIZONA
+      I.  SUNDOWN IN ANTELOPE
+     II.  THE JOKE
+    III.  THIRTY MILES TO THE CONCHO
+     IV.  PIE; AND SEPTEMBER MORN
+      V.  ON THE CAŅON TRAIL
+     VI.  THE BROTHERS
+    VII.  FADEAWAY'S HAND
+   VIII.  AT "THE LAST CHANCE"
+     IX.  SUNDOWN'S FRIEND
+      X.  THE STORM
+     XI.  CHANCE--CONQUEROR
+    XII.  A GIFT
+   XIII.  SUNDOWN, VAQUERO
+    XIV.  ON THE TRAIL TO THE BLUE
+     XV.  THEY KILLED THE BOSS!
+    XVI.  SUNDOWN ADVENTURES
+   XVII.  THE STRANGER
+  XVIII.  THE SHERIFF--AND OTHERS
+    XIX.  THE ESCAPE
+     XX.  THE WALKING MAN
+    XXI.  ON THE MESA
+   XXII.  WAIT!
+  XXIII.  THE PEACEMAKER
+   XXIV.  AN UNEXPECTED VISIT
+    XXV.  VAMOSE, EH?
+   XXVI.  THE INVADERS
+  XXVII.  "JUST ME AND HER"
+ XXVIII.  IMPROVEMENTS
+   XXIX.  A MAN'S COUNTRY
+
+
+
+
+List of Illustrations
+
+"You!" she exclaimed.  "You!" . . . " . . . _Frontispiece_
+
+"God A'mighty, sech things is wrong."
+
+
+
+
+Arizona
+
+Across the wide, sun-swept mesas the steel trail of the railroad runs
+east and west, diminishing at either end to a shimmering blur of
+silver.  South of the railroad these level immensities, rich in their
+season with ripe bunch-grass and grama-grass roll up to the barrier of
+the far blue hills of spruce and pine.  The red, ragged shoulders of
+buttes blot the sky-line here and there; wind-worn and grotesque
+silhouettes of gigantic fortifications, castles and villages wrought by
+some volcanic Cyclops who grew tired of his labors, abandoning his
+unfinished task to the weird ravages of wind and weather.
+
+In the southern hills the swart Apache hunts along historic trails o'er
+which red cavalcades once swept to the plundering of Sonora's herds.
+His sires and their flashing pintos have vanished to other
+hunting-grounds, and he rides the boundaries of his scant heritage,
+wrapped in sullen imaginings.
+
+The caņons and the hills of this broad land are of heroic mould as are
+its men.  Sons of the open, deep-chested, tall and straight, they ride
+like conquerors and walk--like bears.  Slow to anger and quick to act,
+they carry their strength and health easily and with a dignity which no
+worn trappings, faded shirt, or flop-brimmed hat may obscure.  Speak to
+one of them and his level gaze will travel to your feet and back again
+to your eyes.  He may not know what you are, but he assuredly knows
+what you are not.  He will answer you quietly and to the point.  If you
+have been fortunate enough to have ridden range, hunted or camped with
+him or his kind, ask him, as he stands with thumb in belt and wide
+Stetson tilted back, the trail to heaven.  He will smile and point
+toward the mesas and the mountains of his home.  Ask him the trail to
+that other place with which he so frequently garnishes his
+conversation, and he will gravely point to the mesas and the hills
+again.  And there you have Arizona.
+
+
+
+
+SUNDOWN SLIM
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+SUNDOWN IN ANTELOPE
+
+Sundown Slim, who had enjoyed the un-upholstered privacy of a box-car
+on his journey west from Albuquerque, awakened to realize that his
+conveyance was no longer an integral part of the local freight which
+had stopped at the town of Antelope, and which was now rumbling and
+grumbling across the Arizona mesas.  He was mildly irritated by a
+management that gave its passengers such negligent service.  He
+complained to himself as he rolled and corded his blankets.  However,
+he would disembark and leave the car to those base uses for which
+corporate greed, and a shipper of baled hay, intended it.  He was
+further annoyed to find that the door of the car had been locked since
+he had taken possession.  Hearing voices, he hammered on the door.
+After an exchange of compliments with an unseen rescuer, the door was
+pushed back and he leaped to the ground.  He was a bit surprised to
+find, not the usual bucolic agent of a water-plug station, but a belted
+and booted rider of the mesas; a cowboy in all the glory of wide
+Stetson, wing chaps, and Mexican spurs.
+
+"Thought you was the agent.  I couldn't see out," apologized the tramp.
+
+The cowboy laughed.  "He was scared to open her up, so I took a chanct,
+seein' as I'm agent for the purvention of crulty to Hoboes."
+
+"Well, you got a fine chance to make a record this evening" said
+Sundown, estimating with experienced eye the possibilities of Antelope
+and its environs.  "I et at Albuquerque."
+
+"Ain't a bad town to eat in," commented the puncher, gazing at the sky.
+
+"I never seen one that was," the tramp offered, experimentally.
+
+The cowboy grinned.  "Well, take a look at this pueblo, then.  You can
+see her all from here.  If the station door was open you could see
+clean through to New Mexico.  They got about as much use for a Bo in
+these parts as they have for raisin' posies.  And this ain't no garden."
+
+"Well, I'm raised.  I got me full growth," said Sundown, straightening
+his elongated frame,--he stood six-feet-four in whatever he could get
+to stand in,--"and I raised meself."
+
+"Good thing you stopped when you did," commented the puncher.  "What's
+your line?"
+
+"Me line?  Well, the Santa Fe, jest now.  Next comes cookin'.  I been
+cook in everything from a hotel to a gradin'-camp.  I cooked for
+high-collars and swalley-tails, and low-brows and jeans--till it come
+time to go.  Incondescent to that I been poet select to the T.W.U."
+
+"Temperance?"
+
+"Not exactly.  T.W.U. is Tie Walkers' Union.  I lost me job account of
+a long-hair buttin' in and ramblin' round the country spielin'
+high-toned stuff about 'Art for her own sake'--and such.  Me pals
+selected him animus for poet, seein' as how I just writ things
+nacheral; no high-fluted stuff like him.  Why, say, pardner, I believe
+in writin' from the ground up, so folks can understand.  Why, this
+country is sufferin' full of guys tryin' to pull all the G strings out
+of a harp to onct--when they ought to be practicin' scales on a
+mouth-organ.  And it's printed ag'in' 'em in the magazines, right
+along.  I read lots of it.  But speakin' of eats and _thinkin_' of
+eats, did you ever listen to 'Them Saddest Words,'--er--one of me own
+competitions?"
+
+"Not while I was awake.  But come on over to 'The Last Chance' and
+lubricate your works.  I don't mind a little po'try on a full stummick."
+
+"Well, I'm willin', pardner."
+
+The process of lubrication was brief; and "Have another?" queried the
+tramp.  "I ain't all broke--only I ain't payin' dividen's, bein' hard
+times."
+
+"Keep your two-bits," said the puncher.  "This is on me.  You're goin'
+to furnish the chaser, Go to it and cinch up them there 'saddest.'"
+
+"Bein' just two-bits this side of bein' a socialist, I guess I'll keep
+me change.  I ain't a drinkin' man--regular, but I never was scared of
+eatin'."
+
+Sundown gazed about the dingy room.  Like most poets, he was not averse
+to an audience, and like most poets he was quite willing that such
+audience should help defray his incidental expenses--indirectly, of
+course.  Prospects were pretty thin just then.  Two Mexican herders
+loafed at the other end of the bar.  They appeared anything but
+susceptible to the blandishments of Euterpe.  Sundown gazed at the
+ceiling, which was fly-specked and uninspiring,
+
+"Turn her loose!" said the puncher, winking at the bartender.
+
+Sundown folded his long arms and tilted one lean shoulder as though
+defying the elements to blast him where he stood:--
+
+
+  "Lives there a gent who has not heard,
+  Before he died, the saddest word?
+
+  "'What word is that?' the maiden cried;
+  'I'd like to hear it before I died.'
+
+  "'Then come with me,' her father said,
+  As to the stockyards her he led;
+
+  "Where layin' on the ground so low
+  She seen a tired and weary Bo.
+
+  "But when he seen her standin' 'round,
+  He riz up from the cold, cold ground.
+
+  "'Is this a hold-up game?' sez he.
+  And then her pa laughed wickedly.
+
+  "'This ain't no hold-up!' loud he cried,
+  As he stood beside the fair maiden's side.
+
+  "'But this here gal of mine ain't heard
+  What you Boes call the saddest word.'
+
+  "'The Bo, who onct had been a gent,
+  Took off his lid and low he bent.
+
+  "He saw the maiden was fed up good,
+  So her father's wink he understood.
+
+  "'The saddest word,' the Bo he spoke,
+  'Is the dinner-bell, when you are broke.'"
+
+
+And Sundown paused, gazing ceilingward, that the moral might seep
+through.
+
+"You're ridin' right to home!" laughed the cow-boy.  "You just light
+down and we'll trail over to Chola Charley's and prospect a tub of
+frijoles.  The dinner-bell when you are broke is plumb correct.  Got
+any more of that po'try broke to ride gentle?"
+
+"Uhuh.  Say, how far is it to the next town?"
+
+"Comin' or goin'?"
+
+"Goin'."
+
+"'Bout seventy-three miles, but there's nothin' doin' there.  Worse'n
+this."
+
+"Looks like me for a job, or the next rattler goin' west.  Any chanct
+for a cook here?"
+
+"Nope.  All Mexican cooks.  But say, I reckon you _might_ tie up over
+to the Concho.  Hearn tell that Jack Corliss wants a cook.  Seems his
+ole stand-by Hi Wingle's gone to Phoenix on law business.  Jack's a
+good boss to tie to.  Worked for him myself."
+
+"How far to his place?" queried Sundown.
+
+"Sixty miles, straight south."
+
+"Gee Gosh!  Looks like the towns was scared of each other in this here
+country.  Who'd you say raises them frijoles?"
+
+The cowboy laughed and slapped Sundown on the back.  "Come on, Bud!
+You eat with me this trip."
+
+
+Western humor, accentuated by alcohol, is apt to broaden rapidly in
+proportion to the quantity of liquor consumed.  After a given quantity
+has been consumed--varying with the individual--Western humor broadens
+without regard to proportion of any kind.
+
+The jovial puncher, having enjoyed Sundown's society to the extent of
+six-bits' worth of Mexican provender, suggested a return to "The Last
+Chance," where the tramp was solemnly introduced to a newly arrived
+coterie of thirsty riders of the mesas.  Gaunt and exceedingly tall, he
+loomed above the heads of the group in the barroom "like a crane in a
+frog-waller," as one cowboy put it.  "Which ain't insinooatin' that our
+hind legs is good to eat, either," remarked another.  "He keeps right
+on smilin'," asserted the first speaker.  "And takin' his smile," said
+the other.  "Wonder what's his game?  He sure is the lonesomest-lookin'
+cuss this side of that dead pine on Bald Butte, that I ever seen."  But
+conviviality was the order of the evening, and the punchers grouped
+together and told and listened to jokes, old and new, talked sagebrush
+politics, and threw dice for the privilege of paying rather than
+winning.  "Says he's scoutin' for a job cookin'," remarked a young
+cowboy to the main group of riders.  "Heard him tell Johnny."
+
+Meanwhile, Sundown, forgetful of everything save the congeniality of
+the moment, was recounting, to an amused audience of three, his
+experiences as assistant cook in an Eastern hotel.  The rest of the
+happy and irresponsible punchers gravitated to the far end of the bar
+and proposed that they "have a little fun with the tall guy."  One of
+them drew his gun and stepped quietly behind the tramp.  About to fire
+into the floor he hesitated, bolstered his gun and tiptoed clumsily
+back to his companions.  "Got a better scheme," he whispered.
+
+Presently Sundown, in the midst of his recital, was startled by a roar
+of laughter.  He turned quickly.  The laughter ceased.  The cowboy who
+had released him from the box-car stated that he must be going, and
+amid protests and several challenges to have as many "one-mores," swung
+out into the night to ride thirty miles to his ranch.  Then it was, as
+has been said elsewhere and oft, "the plot thickened."
+
+A rider, leaning against the bar and puffing thoughtfully at a cigar of
+elephantine proportions, suddenly took his cigar from his lips, held it
+poised, examined it with the eye of a connoisseur--of cattle--and
+remarked slowly: "Now, why didn't I think of it?  Wonder you fellas
+didn't think of it.  They need a cook bad!  Been without a cook for a
+year--and everybody fussin' 'round cookin' for himself."
+
+Sundown caught the word "cook" and turned to, face the speaker.  "I was
+lookin' for a job, meself," he said, apologetically.  "Did you know of
+one?"
+
+"You was!" exclaimed the cowboy.  "Well, now, that's right queer.  I
+know where a cook is needed bad.  But say, can you honest-to-Gosh
+_cook_?"
+
+"I cooked in everything from a hotel to a gradin'-camp.  All I want is
+a chanct."
+
+The cowboy shook his head.  "I don' know.  It'll take a pretty good man
+to hold down this job."
+
+"Where is the job?" queried Sundown.
+
+Several of the men grinned, and Sundown, eager to be friendly, grinned
+in return.
+
+"Mebby you _could_ hold it down," continued the cowboy.  "But say, do
+you eat your own cookin'?"
+
+"Guess you're joshin' me."  And the tramp's face expressed
+disappointment.  "I eat my own cookin' when I can't get any better," he
+added, cheerfully.
+
+"Well, it ain't no joke--cookin' for that hotel," stated the puncher,
+gazing at the end of his cigar and shaking his head.  "Is it, boys?"
+
+"Sure ain't," they chorused.
+
+"A man's got to shoot the good chuck to hold the trade," he continued.
+
+"Hotel?" queried Sundown.  "In this here town?"
+
+"Naw!" exclaimed the puncher.  "It's one o' them swell joints out in
+the desert.  Kind o' what folks East calls a waterin'-place.  Eh, boys?"
+
+"That's her!" volleyed the group.
+
+"Kind o' select-like," continued the puncher.
+
+"Sure is!" they chorused.
+
+"Do you know what the job pays?" asked Sundown.
+
+"U-m-m-m, let's see.  Don't know as I ever heard.  But there'll be no
+trouble about the pay.  And you'll have things your own way, if you can
+deliver the goods."
+
+"That's right!" concurred a listener.
+
+Sundown looked upon work of any kind too seriously to suspect that it
+could be a subject for jest.  He gazed hopefully at their hard, keen
+faces.  They all seemed interested, even eager that he should find
+work.  "Well, if it's a job I can hold down," he said, slowly, "I'll
+start for her right now.  I ain't afraid to work when I got to."
+
+"That's the talk, pardner!  Well, I'll tell you.  You take that road at
+the end of the station and follow her south right plumb over the hill.
+Over the hill you'll see a ranch, 'way on.  Keep right on fannin' it
+and you'll come to a sign that reads 'American Hotel.'  That's her.
+Good water, fine scenery, quiet-like, and just the kind of a place them
+tourists is always lookin' for.  I stopped there many a time.  So has
+the rest of the boys."
+
+"You was tellin' me it was select-like--" ventured Sundown.
+
+The men roared.  Even Sundown's informant relaxed and grinned.  But he
+became grave again, flicked the ashes from his cigar and waved his
+hand.  "It's this way, pardner.  That there hotel is run on the
+American style; if you got the price, you can have anything in the
+house.  And tourists kind o' like to see a bunch of punchers settin'
+'round smokin' and talkin' and tellin' yarns.  Why, they was a lady
+onct--"
+
+"But she went back East," interrupted a listener.
+
+"That's the way with them," said the cowboy.  "They're always stickin'
+their irons on some other fella's stock.  Don't you pay no 'tention to
+them."
+
+Sundown shook hands with his informant, crossed to the corner of the
+room, and slung his blanket-roll across his back.  "Much obliged to you
+fellas," he said, his lean, timorous face beaming with gratitude.  "It
+makes a guy feel happy when a bunch of strangers does him a good turn.
+You see I ain't got the chanct to get a job, like you fellas, me bein'
+a Bo.  I had a pal onct--but He crossed over.  He was the only one that
+ever done me a good turn without my askin'.  He was a college guy.  I
+wisht he was here so he could say thanks to you fellas classy-like.
+I'm feeling them kind of thanks, but I can't say 'em."
+
+The grins faded from some of the faces.  "You ain't goin' to fan it
+to-night?" asked one.
+
+"Guess I will.  You see, I'm broke, now.  I'm used to travelin' any old
+time, and nights ain't bad--believe me.  It's mighty hot daytimes in
+this here country.  How far did you say?"
+
+"Just over the hill--then a piece down the trail.  You can't miss it,"
+said the cowboy who had spoken first.
+
+"Well, so-long, gents.  If I get that job and any of you boys come out
+to the hotel, I'll sure feed you good."
+
+An eddy of smoke followed Sundown as he passed through the doorway.  A
+cowboy snickered.  The room became silent.
+
+"Call the poor ramblin' lightnin'-rod back," suggested a kindly puncher.
+
+"He'll come back fast enough," asserted the perpetrator of the "joke."
+"It's thirty dry and dusty miles to the water-hole ranch.  When he gets
+a look at how far it is to-morrow mornin' he'll sure back into the
+fence and come flyin' for Antelope with reins draggin'.  Set 'em up
+again, Joe."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+THE JOKE
+
+Owing to his unaccustomed potations Sundown was perhaps a trifle
+over-zealous in taking the road at night.  He began to realize this
+after he had journeyed along the dim, starlit trail for an hour or so
+and found no break in the level monotony of the mesa.  He peered ahead,
+hoping to see the blur of a hill against the southern stars.  The air
+was cool and clear and sweet.  He plodded along, happy in the prospect
+of work.  Although he was a physical coward, darkness and the solitudes
+held no enemies for him.  He felt that the world belonged to him at
+night.  The moon was his lantern and the stars were his friends.
+Circumstance and environment had wrought for him a coat of cheerful
+effrontery which passed for hardihood; a coat patched with slang and
+gaping with inconsistencies, which he put on or off at will.  Out on
+the starlit mesas he had metaphorically shed his coat.  He was at home.
+Here there were no men to joke about his awkwardness and his ungainly
+height.  A wanderer by nature, he looked upon space as his kingdom.
+Great distances were but the highways of his heritage, each promising
+new vistas, new adventuring.  His wayside fires were his altars, their
+smoke the incense to his gods.  A true adventurer, albeit timid, he
+journeyed not knowing why, but rather because he knew no reason for not
+journeying.  Wrapped in his vague imaginings he swung along, peering
+ahead from time to time until at last he saw upon the far background of
+the night a darker something shaped like a tiny mound.  "That's her!"
+he exclaimed, joyously, and quickened his pace.  "But Gee Gosh!  I
+guess them fellas forgot I was afoot.  That hill looks turruble far
+off.  Mebby because it's dark."  The distant hill seemed to keep pace
+ahead of him, sliding away into the southern night as he advanced.
+Having that stubbornness so frequently associated with timidity, he
+plodded on, determined to top the hill before morning.  "Them fellas as
+rides don't know how far things are," he commented.  "But, anyhow, the
+folks at that hotel will sure know I want the job, walkin' all night
+for it."
+
+Gradually the outline of the hill became bolder.  Sundown estimated
+that he had been traveling several hours, when the going stiffened to a
+slow grade.  Presently the grade became steep and rocky.  Thus far the
+road had led straight south.  Now it swung to the west and skirted the
+base of the hill in a gradual ascent.  Then it swung back again
+following a fairly easy slope to the top.  His optimism waned as he saw
+no light ahead.  The night grew colder.  The stars flickered as the
+wind of the dawn, whispering over the grasses, touched his face.  He
+paused for a moment on the crest of the hill, turned to look back, and
+then started down the slope.  It was steep and rutted.  He had not gone
+far when he stumbled and fell.  His blanket-roll had pitched ahead of
+him.  He fumbled about for it and finally found it.  "Them as believes
+in signs would say it was about time to go to roost," he remarked,
+nursing his knee that had been cut on a fragment of ragged tufa.  A
+coyote wailed.  Sundown started up.  "Some lonesome.  But she sure is
+one grand old night!  Guess I'll turn in."
+
+He rolled in his blankets.  Hardly had he adjusted his length of limb
+to the unevenness of the ground when he fell asleep.  He had come
+twenty-five miles across the midnight mesas.  Five miles below him was
+his destination, shrouded by the night, but visioned in his dreams as a
+palatial summer resort, aglow with lights and eagerly awaiting the
+coming of the new cook.
+
+The dawn, edging its slow way across the mesas, struck palely on the
+hillside where he slept.  A rabbit, huddled beneath a scrub-cedar,
+hopped to the middle of the road and sat up, staring with moveless eyes
+at the motionless hump of blanket near the road.  In a flash the wide
+mesas were tinged with gold as the smouldering red sun rose, to march
+unclouded to the western sea.
+
+
+Midway between the town of Antelope and the river Concho is the
+water-hole.  The land immediately surrounding the water-hole is
+enclosed with a barb-wire fence.  Within the enclosure is a ranch-house
+painted white, a scrub-cedar corral, a small stable, and a lean-to
+shading the water-hole from the desert sun.  The place is altogether
+neat and habitable.  It is rather a surprise to the chance wayfarer to
+find the ranch uninhabited.  As desolate as a stranded steamer on a mud
+bank, it stands in the center of several hundred acres of desert,
+incapable, without irrigation, of producing anything more edible than
+lizards and horned toads.  Why a homesteader should have chosen to
+locate there is a mystery.  His reason for abandoning the place is
+glaringly obvious.  Though failure be written in every angle and nook
+of the homestead, it is the failure of large-hearted enterprise, of
+daring to attempt, of striving to make the desert bloom, and not the
+failure of indolence or sloth.
+
+Western humor like Western topography is apt to be more or less rugged.
+Between the high gateposts of the yard enclosure there is a great,
+twelve-foot sign lettered in black.  It reads: "American Hotel."  A
+band of happy cowboys appropriated the sign when on a visit to
+Antelope, pressed a Mexican freighter to pack it thirty miles across
+the desert, and nailed it above the gateway of the water-hole ranch.
+It is a standing joke among the cattle- and sheep-men of the Concho
+Valley.
+
+Sundown sat up and gazed about.  The rabbit, startled out of its
+ordinary resourcefulness, stiffened.  The delicate nostrils ceased
+twitching.  "Good mornin', little fella!  You been travelin' all night
+too?"  And Sundown yawned and stretched.  Down the road sped a brown
+exclamation mark with a white dot at its visible end.  "Guess he don't
+have to travel nights to get 'most anywhere," laughed Sundown.  He
+kicked back his blankets and rose stiffly.  The luxury of his yawn was
+stifled as he saw below him the ranchhouse with some strange kind of a
+sign above its gate.  "If that's the hotel," he said as he corded his
+blankets, "she don't look much bigger than me own.  But distances is
+mighty deceivin' in this here open-face country."  For a moment he
+stood on the hillside, a gaunt, lonely figure, gazing out across the
+limitless mesas.  Then he jogged down the grade, whistling.
+
+As he drew near the ranch his whistling ceased and his expression
+changed to one of quizzical uncertainty.  "That's the sign, all
+right,--'American Hotel,'--but the hotel part ain't livin' up to the
+sign.  But some hotels is like that; mostly front."
+
+He opened the ranch-house gate and strode to the door.  He knocked
+timidly.  Then he dropped his blanket-roll and stepped to a window.
+Through the grimy glass he saw an empty, board-walled room, a slant of
+sunlight across the floor, and in the sunlight a rusted stove.  He
+walked back to the gateway and stood gazing at the sign.  He peered
+round helplessly.  Then a slow grin illumined his face.  "Why," he
+exclaimed, "it's--it's a joke.  Reckon the proprietor must be out
+huntin' up trade.  And accordin' to that he won't be back direct."
+
+He wandered about the place like a stray cat in a strange attic,
+timorous and curious.  Ordinarily he would have considered himself
+fortunate.  The house offered shelter and seclusion.  There was clear
+cold water to drink and a stove on which to cook.  As he thought of the
+stove the latitude and longitude of the "joke" dawned upon him with
+full significance.  He drank at the water-hole and, gathering a few
+sticks, built a fire.  From his blankets he took a tin can, drew a wad
+of newspaper from it, and made coffee.  Then he cast about for
+something to eat.  "Now, if I was a cow--" he began, when he suddenly
+remembered the rabbit.  "Reckon he's got relations hoppin' around in
+them bushes."  He picked up a stick and started for the gate.
+
+Not far from the ranch he saw a rabbit crouched beneath a clump of
+brush.  He flung his stick and missed.  The rabbit ran to another bush
+and stopped.  Encouraged by the little animal's nonchalance, he dashed
+after it with a wild and startling whoop.  The rabbit circled the brush
+and set off at right angles to his pursuer's course.  Sundown made the
+turn, but it was "on one wheel" so to speak.  His foot caught in a
+prairie-dog hole and he dove headlong with an exclamation that sounded
+as much like "Whump!" as anything else.  He uttered another and less
+forced exclamation when he discovered in the tangle of brush that had
+broken his fall, another rabbit that had not survived his sudden
+visitation.  He picked up the limp, furry shape.  "Asleep at the
+switch," he said.  "He ain't much bigger than a whisper, but he's
+breakfast."
+
+Rabbit, fried on a stove-lid, makes a pretty satisfying meal when
+eating ceases to be a pleasure and becomes a necessity.  Sundown wisely
+reserved a portion of his kill for future consumption.
+
+As the morning grew warmer, he fell asleep in the shade of the
+ranch-house.  Late in the afternoon he wakened, went into the house and
+made coffee.  After the coffee he came out, rolled a cigarette, and sat
+smoking and gazing out across the afternoon mesas.  "I feel it comin',"
+he said to himself.  "And it's a good one, so I guess I'll put her in
+me book."
+
+He rummaged in his blankets and unearthed a grimy, tattered notebook.
+Lubricating the blunt point of a stubby pencil he set to work.  When he
+had finished, the sun was close to the horizon.  He sat back and gazed
+sideways at his effort.  "I'll try her on meself," he said, drawing up
+his leg and resting the notebook against his lean knee.  "Wish I could
+stand off and listen to meself," he muttered.  "Kind o' get the defect
+better." Then he read laboriously:--
+
+
+  "Bo, it's goin' to be hot all right;
+    Sun's a floodin' the eastern range.
+  Mebby it was kind o' cold last night,
+    But there's nothin' like havin' a little change.
+  Money?  No.  Only jest room for me;
+    Mountings and valleys and plains and such.
+  Ain't I got eyes that was made to see?
+    Ain't I got ears?  But they don't hear much:
+  Only a kind of a inside song,
+    Like when the grasshopper quits his sad,
+  And says: 'Rickety-chick!  Why, there is nothin' wrong!'
+    And after the coffee, things ain't so bad."
+
+
+"Huh!  Sounds all right for a starter.  Ladies and them as came with
+you, I will now spiel the next section."
+
+
+  "The wind is makin' my bed for me,
+    Smoothin' the grass where I'm goin' to flop,
+  When the quails roost up in the live-oak tree,
+    And my legs feel like as they want to stop.
+  Pal or no pal, it's about the same,
+    For nobody knows how you feel inside.
+  Hittin' the grit is a lonesome game,--
+    But quit it?  No matter how hard I tried.
+  But mebby I will when that inside song
+    Stops a-buzzin' like bees that's mad,
+  Grumblin' together: 'There's nothin' wrong!'
+    And--after the coffee things ain't so bad."
+
+
+"Bees ain't so darned happy, either.  They're too busy.  Guess it's a
+good thing I went back to me grasshopper in the last verse.  And now,
+ladies and gents, this is posituvely the last appearance of the noted
+electrocutionist, Sundown Slim; so, listen."
+
+
+  "Ladies, I've beat it from Los to Maine.
+    And, gents, not knowin' jest what to do,
+  I turned and slippered it back again,
+    Wantin' to see, jest the same as you.
+  Ridin' rods and a-dodgin' flies;
+    Eatin' at times when me luck was good.
+  Spielin' the con to the easy guys,
+    But never jest makin' it understood,
+  Even to me, why that inside song
+    Kep' a-handin' me out the glad,
+  Like the grasshopper singin': 'There's nothin' wrong!'
+    And--after the coffee things ain't so bad."
+
+
+Sundown grinned with unalloyed pleasure.  His mythical audience seemed
+to await a few words, so he rose stiffly, and struck an attitude
+somewhat akin to that of Henry Irving standing beside a milk-can and
+contemplating the village pump.  "It gives me great pleasure to inform
+you"--he hesitated and cleared his throat--"that them there words of
+mine was expired by half a rabbit--small--and two cans of coffee.  Had
+I been fed up like youse"--and he bowed grandly--"there's no tellin'
+what I might 'a' writ.  Thankin' you for the box-office receipts, I am
+yours to demand, Sundown Slim, of Outdoors, Anywhere, till further
+notice."
+
+Then he marched histrionically to the ranchhouse and made a fire in the
+rusted stove.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+THIRTY MILES TO THE CONCHO
+
+John Corliss rode up to the water-hole, dismounted, and pushed through
+the gate.  His horse "Chinook" watched him with gently inquisitive
+eyes.  Chinook was not accustomed to inattention when he was thirsty.
+He had covered the thirty miles from the Concho Ranch in five long,
+dry, and dusty hours.  He nickered.  "In a minute," said Corliss.  Then
+he knocked at the ranch-house door.  Riders of the Concho usually
+strode jingling into the ranch-house without formality.  Corliss,
+however, had been gazing at the lean stovepipe for hours before he
+finally decided that there was smoke rising from it.  He knocked a
+second time.
+
+"She ain't locked," came in a rusty, smothered voice.
+
+Corliss shoved the door open with his knee.  The interior was heavy
+with smoke.  Near the stove knelt Sundown trying to encourage the smoke
+to more perpendicular behavior.  He coughed.  "She ain't good in her
+intentions, this here stove.  One time she goes and the next time she
+stays and takes a smoke.  Her innards is out of gear.  Whew!"
+
+"The damper has slipped down," said Corliss.
+
+"Her little ole chest-pertector is kind o' worked down toward her
+stummick.  There, now she feels better a'ready."
+
+"Cooking chuck?" queried Corliss, glancing round the bare room.
+
+"Rabbit," replied Sundown.  "When I hit this here hotel I was hungry.
+I seen a rabbit--not this here one, but the other one.  This one was
+settin' in a bunch of-brush on me right-of-way.  I was behind and
+runnin' to make up time.  I kind o' seen the leetle prairie-dog give me
+the red to slow down, but it was too late.  Hit his cyclone cellar with
+me right driver, and got wrecked.  This here leetle wad o' cotton was
+under me steam-chest.  No other passengers hurt, except the engineer."
+
+Corliss laughed.  "You're a railroad man, I take it.  Belong in this
+country?"
+
+Sundown rose from his knees and backed away from the stove.  "Nope.
+Don't belong anywhere, I guess.  My address when I'm to home is Sundown
+Slim, Outdoors, Anywhere, speakin' general."
+
+"Come in afoot?"
+
+"Uhuh.  Kind o' thought I'd get a job.  Fellas at Antelope told me they
+wanted a cook at this hotel.  I reckon they do--and some boarders and
+somethin' to cook."
+
+"That's one of their jokes.  Pretty stiff joke, sending you in here
+afoot."
+
+"Oh, I ain't sore, mister.  They stole me nanny, all right, but I feel
+jest as good here as anywhere."
+
+Corliss led Chinook to the water-hole.  Sundown followed.
+
+"Ever think how many kinds of water they was?" queried Sundown.  "Some
+is jest water; then they's some got a taste; then some's jest wet, but
+this here is fine!  Felt like jumpin' in and drinkin' from the bottom
+up when I lit here.  Where do you live?"
+
+"On the Concho, thirty miles south."
+
+"Any towns in between?"
+
+Corliss smiled.  "No, there isn't a fence or a house from here to the
+ranch."
+
+"Gee Gosh!  Any cows in this country?"
+
+"Yes.  The Concho runs ten thousand head on the range."
+
+"Had your supper?"
+
+"No.  I was late getting away from the ranch.  Expected to make
+Antelope, but I guess I'll bush here to-night."
+
+"Well, seein' you're the first boarder at me hotel, I'll pass the
+hash."  And Sundown stepped into the house and returned with the half
+rabbit.  "I got some coffee, too.  I can cook to beat the band when I
+got somethin' to cook.  Help yourself, pardner.  What's mine is
+anybody's that's hungry.  I et the other half."
+
+"Don't mind if I do.  Thanks.  Say, you can cook?"
+
+"Next to writin' po'try it's me long suit."
+
+"Well, I'm no judge of poetry," said Corliss.  "This rabbit tastes
+pretty good."
+
+"You ain't a cop, be you?" queried Sundown.
+
+"No.  Why?"
+
+"Nothin'.  I was jest wonderin'."
+
+"You have traveled some, I take it."
+
+"Me?  Say!  I'm the ramblin' son with the nervous feet.  Been round the
+world and back again on them same feet, and some freights.  Had a pal
+onct.  He was a college guy.  Run on to him on a cattle-boat.  He writ
+po'try that was the real thing!  It's ketchin' and I guess I caught it
+from him.  He was a good little pal."
+
+"What became of him?"
+
+"I dunno, pardner.  They was a wreck--but guess I'll get that coffee."
+
+"How did you cross the Beaver Dam?" inquired Corliss as Sundown
+reappeared with his can of coffee.
+
+"So that's what you call that creek back there?  Well, it don't need no
+Beaver hitched on to it to say what I'd call it.  I come through last
+night, but I'm dry now."
+
+The cattle-man proffered Sundown tobacco and papers.  They smoked and
+gazed at the stars.  "Said your friend was a college man.  What was his
+name?" queried Corliss, turning to glance at Sundown.
+
+"Well, his real name was Billy Corliss, but I called him jest Bill."
+
+"Corliss!  When did you lose track of him?"
+
+"In that wreck, 'bout a year ago.  We was ridin' a fast freight goin'
+west.  He said he was goin' home, but he never said where it was.  Hit
+a open switch--so they said after--and when they pulled the stitches,
+and took that plaster dingus off me leg, I starts out huntin' for
+Billy.  Nobody knowed anything about him.  Wasn't no signs in the
+wreck,--so they said.  You see I was in that fadeaway joint six weeks."
+
+"What did he look like?"
+
+"Billy?  More like a girl than a man.  Slim-like, with blue eyes and
+kind o' bright, wavy-like hair.  He never said nothin' about his folks.
+He was a awful quiet kid."
+
+John Corliss studied Sundown's face.  "You say he was killed in a
+wreck?"
+
+"I ain't sure.  But I reckon he was.  It was a bad one.  He was ridin'
+a empty, just ahead of me.  Then the whole train buckled up and
+somethin' hit me on the lid.  That's all I remember, till after."
+
+"What are you going to do now?  Go back to Antelope?"
+
+"Me?  Guess I will.  I was lookin' for a job cooking but the pay ain't
+right here.  What you lookin' at me that way for?"
+
+"Sit still.  I'm all right.  My brother Will left home three years ago.
+Didn't say a word to any one.  He'd been to school East, and he wrote
+some things for the magazines--poetry.  I was wondering--"
+
+"Say, mister, what's your name?"
+
+"John Corliss."
+
+"Gee Gosh!  I knowed when I et that rabbit this mornin' that somethin'
+was goin' to happen.  Thought it was po'try, but I was mistook."
+
+"So you ate your half of the rabbit this morning, eh?"
+
+"Sure!!--"
+
+"And you gave me the rest.  You sure are loco."
+
+"Mebby I be.  Anyhow, I'm used to bein' hungry.  They ain't so much of
+me to keep as you--crossways, I mean.  Of course, up and down--"
+
+"Well, I'm right sorry," said Corliss.  "You're the queerest Hobo I
+ever saw."
+
+"That's what they all say," said Sundown, grinning.  "I ain't no common
+hand-out grabber, not me!  I learnt things from Bill.  He had class!"
+
+"You sure Will never said anything about the Concho, or his brother, or
+Chance?"
+
+"Chance?  Who's he?"
+
+"Wolf-dog that belonged to Will."
+
+"Gee Gosh!  Big, and long legs, and kind of long, rough hair, and deep
+in the chest and--"
+
+"That's Chance; but how did you know?"
+
+"Why, Billy writ a pome 'bout him onct.  Sold it and we lived high--for
+a week.  Sure as you live!  It was called 'Chance of the Concher.'  Gee
+Gosh!  I thought it was jest one of them poetical dogs, like."
+
+Corliss, who was not given to sentiment, smoked and pondered the
+possibility of his brother's whereabouts.  He had written to all the
+large cities asking for information from the police as to the
+probability of their being able to locate his brother.  The answers had
+not been encouraging.  At the end of three years he practically gave up
+making inquiry and turned his whole attention to the management of the
+Concho.  There had been trouble between the cattle and sheep interests
+and time had passed more swiftly than he had realized.  His meeting
+with Sundown had awakened the old regret for his brother's uncalled-for
+disappearance.  Had he been positive that his brother had been killed
+in the wreck he would have felt a kind of relief.  As it was, the
+uncertainty as to his whereabouts, his welfare, worried and perplexed
+him, especially in view of the fact that he was on his way to Antelope
+to present to the Forest Service a petition from the cattle-men of the
+valley for grazing allotments.  The sheep had been destroying the
+grazing on the west side of the river.  There had been bickerings and
+finally an open declaration of war against David Loring, the old
+sheep-man of the valley.  Corliss wished to avoid friction with David
+Loring.  Their ranches were opposite each other.  And as Corliss was
+known as level-headed and shrewd, it devolved upon him to present in
+person the complaint and petition of his brother cattle-men.  Argument
+with David Loring, as he had passed the latter's homestead that
+morning, had delayed him on his journey to Antelope.  Presently he got
+up and entered the ranch-house.  Sundown followed and poked about in
+the corners of the room.  He found a bundle of gunny-sacks and
+spreading them on the floor, laid his blankets on them.
+
+Corliss stepped out and led Chinook to the distant mesa and picketed
+him for the night.  As he returned, he considered the advisability of
+hiring the tramp to cook until his own cook returned from Phoenix.  He
+entered the house, kicked off his leather chaps, tossed his spurs into
+a corner, and made a bed of his saddle-blankets and saddle.  "I'll be
+starting early," he said as he drew off his boots.  "What are you
+intending to do next?"
+
+"Me?  Well, I ain't got no plans.  Beat it back to Antelope, I guess.
+Say, mister, do you think my pal was your brother?"
+
+"I don't know.  From your description I should say so.  See here.  I
+don't know you, but I need a cook.  The Concho is thirty miles in.  I'm
+headed the other way, but if you are game to walk it, I'll see if I can
+use you."
+
+"Me!  You ain't givin' me another josh, be you?"
+
+"Never a josh.  You won't think so when you get to punchin' dough for
+fifteen hungry cowboys.  Want to try it?"
+
+"Say, mister, I'm just comin' to.  A guy told me in Antelope that they
+was a John Corliss--only he said Jack--what was needin' a cook.  Just
+thunk of it, seein' as I was thinkin' of Billy most ever since I met
+you.  Are you the one?"
+
+"Guess I am," said Corliss, smiling.  "It's up to you."
+
+"Say, mister, that listens like home more'n anything I heard since I
+was a kid.  I can sure cook, but I ain't no rider."
+
+"How long would it take you to foot it to the Concho?"
+
+"Oh, travelin' easy, say 'bout eight hours."
+
+"Don't see that you need a horse, then, even if there was one handy."
+
+"Nope.  I don't need no horse.  All I need is a job."
+
+"All right.  You'd have to travel thirty miles either way--to get out
+of here.  I won't be there, but you can tell my foreman, Bud Shoop,
+that I sent you in."
+
+"And I'll jest be tellin' him that 'bout twelve, to-morrow.  I sure
+wisht Billy was here.  He'd sure be glad to know his ole pal was
+cookin' for his brother.  Me for the shavin's.  And say, thanks,
+pardner.  Reckon they ain't all jokers in Arizona."
+
+"No.  There are a few that can't make or take one," said Corliss.
+"Hope you'll make the ranch all right."
+
+"I'm there!  Next to cookin' and writin' po'try, walkin' is me long
+suit."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+PIE; AND SEPTEMBER MORN
+
+When a Westerner, a native-born son of the outlands, likes a man, he
+likes him.  That is all there is to it.  His horses, blankets, money,
+provender, and even his saddle are at his friend's disposal.  If the
+friend prove worthy,--and your Westerner is shrewd,--a lifelong
+friendship is the result.  If the friend prove unworthy, it is well for
+him to seek other latitudes, for the average man of the outlands has a
+peculiar and deep-seated pride which is apt to manifest itself in
+prompt and vigorous action when touched by ridicule or ingratitude.
+There are many Davids and Jonathans in the sagebrush country.  David
+may have flocks and herds, and Jonathan may have naught but the care of
+them.  David may possess lands and water-rights, and Jonathan nothing
+more than a pick, a shovel, a pan, and an incurable itch for placering.
+A Westerner likes a man for what he is and not because of his vocation.
+He usually proceeds cautiously in the matter of friendship, but sudden
+and instinctive friendships are not infrequent.  It so happened that
+John Corliss had taken a liking to the Hobo, Sundown Slim.  Knowing a
+great deal more about cattle than about psychology, the rancher wasted
+no time in trying to analyze his feelings.  If the tramp had courage
+enough to walk another thirty miles across the mesas to get a job
+cooking, there must be something to him besides legs.  Possibly the
+cattle-man felt that he was paying a tribute to the memory of his
+brother.  In any event, he greeted Sundown next morning as the latter
+came to the water-hole to drink.  "You can't lose your way," he said,
+pointing across the mesa.  "Just keep to the road.  The first ranch on
+the right is the Concho.  Good luck!"  And he led Chinook through the
+gateway.  In an hour he had topped the hill.  He reined Chinook round.
+He saw a tiny figure far to the south.  Half in joke he waved his
+sombrero.  Sundown, who had glanced back from time to time, saw the
+salute and answered it with a sweeping gesture of his lean arm.  "And
+now," he said, "I got the whole works to meself.  That Concho guy is a
+mighty fine-lookin' young fella, but he don't look like Billy.  Rides
+that hoss easy-like jest as if he was settin' in a rockin'-chair
+knittin' socks.  But I reckon he could flash up if you stepped on his
+tail.  I sure ain't goin' to."
+
+
+It was mid-afternoon, when Sundown, gaunt and weary, arrived at the
+Concho.  He was faint for lack of food and water.  The Mexican cook, or
+rather the cook's assistant, was the only one present when Sundown
+drifted in, for the Concho was, in the parlance of the riders, "A man's
+ranch from chuck to sunup, and never a skirt on the clothes-line."
+
+Not until evening was Sundown able to make his errand known, and
+appreciated.  A group of riders swung in in a swirl of dust,
+dismounted, and, as if by magic, the yard was empty of horses.
+
+The riders disappeared in the bunk-house to wash and make ready for
+supper.  One of the men, who had spoken to him in passing, reappeared.
+
+"Lookin' for the boss?" he asked.
+
+"Nope.  I seen him.  I'm lookin' for Mr. Shoop."
+
+"All right, pardner.  Saw off the mister and size me up.  I'm him."
+
+"The boss said I was to be cook," said Sundown, rather awed by the
+personality of the bluff foreman.
+
+"Meet him at Antelope?"
+
+"No.  It was the American Hotel.  He said for me to tell you if I
+walked in I could get a job cookin'."
+
+"All right.  What he says goes.  Had anything to eat recent?"
+
+"I et a half a rabbit yesterday mornin'."
+
+"Well, sufferin' shucks!  You fan it right in here!"
+
+Later that evening, Sundown straggled out to the corral and stood
+watching the saddle-stock of the Concho pull hay from the long
+feed-rack and munch lazily.  Suddenly he jerked up his hand and jumped
+round.  The men, loafing in front of the bunk-house, laughed.  Chance,
+the great wolf-dog, was critically inspecting the tramp's legs.
+
+Sundown was a self-confessed coward, physically.  Above all things he
+feared dogs.  His reception by the men, aside from Bud Shoop's
+greeting, had been cool.  Even the friendship of a dog seemed
+acceptable at that moment.  Plodding along the weary miles between the
+water-hole and the ranch, he had, in his way, decided to turn over a
+new leaf: to ignore the insistent call of the road and settle down to
+something worth while.  Childishly egotistical, he felt in a vague way
+that his virtuous intent was not appreciated, not reasoning that the
+men knew nothing of his wanderings, nor cared to know anything other
+than as to his ability to cook.  So he timidly stroked the long muzzle
+of the wolf-dog, and was agreeably surprised to find that Chance seemed
+to like it.  In fact, Chance, having an instinct superior to that of
+his men companions of the Concho, recognized in the gaunt and lonely
+figure a kindred spirit; a being that had the wander-fever in its
+veins; that was forever searching for the undiscoverable, the something
+just beyond the visible boundaries of day.  The dog, part Russian
+wolf-hound and part Great Dane, deep-chested, swift and powerful, shook
+his shaggy coat and sneezed.  Sundown jumped.  Again the men laughed.
+"You and me's built about alike--for speed," he said, endeavoring to
+convey his friendly intent through compliment.  "Did you ever ketch a
+rabbit?"
+
+Chance whined.  Possibly he understood.  In any event, he leaped
+playfully against Sundown's chest and stood with his paws on the
+tramp's shoulders.  Sundown shrunk back against the corral bars.  "Go
+to it," he said, trying to cover his fear with a jest, "if you like
+bones."
+
+From behind him came a rush of feet.  "Great Scott!" exclaimed Shoop.
+"Come 'ere, Chance.  I sure didn't know he was loose."
+
+The dog dropped to his feet and wagged his tail inquiringly.
+
+"Chance--there--he don't cotton to strangers," explained Shoop,
+slipping his hand in the wolf-dog's collar.  "Did he nip you?"
+
+"Nope.  But me and him ain't strangers, mister.  You see, I knowed the
+boss's brother Billy, what passed over in a wreck.  He used to own
+Chance, so the boss says."
+
+"You knew Billy!  But Chance don't know that.  I'll chain him up till
+he gets used to seein' you 'round."
+
+Shoop led the dog to the stable.  Sundown felt relieved.  The
+solicitude of the foreman, impersonal as it was, made him happier.
+
+Next morning he was installed as cook.  He did fairly well, and the men
+rode away joking about the new "dough-puncher."
+
+Then it was that Sundown had an inspiration--not to write verse, but to
+manufacture pies.  He knew that the great American appetite is keen for
+pies.  Finding plenty of material,--dried apples, dried prunes, and
+apricots,--he set to work, having in mind former experiences on the
+various "east-sides" of various cities.  Determined that his reputation
+should rest not alone upon flavor, he borrowed a huge Mexican spur from
+his assistant and immersed it in a pan of boiling water.  "And speakin'
+of locality color," he murmured, grinning at the possibilities before
+him, "how's that, Johnny?"  And he rolled out a thin layer of pie-dough
+and taking the spur for a "pattern-wheel," he indented a free-hand
+sketch of the Concho brand on the immaculate dough.  Next he wheeled
+out a rather wobbly cayuse, then an equally wobbly and ferocious cow.
+Each pie came from the oven with some symbol of the range printed upon
+it, the general effect being enhanced by the upheaval of the piecrust
+in the process of baking.  When the punchers rode in that evening and
+entered the messroom, they sniffed knowingly.  But not until the
+psychological moment did Sundown parade his pies.  Then he stepped to
+the kitchen and, with the lordly gesture of a Michael Angelo unveiling
+a statue for the approval of Latin princes, commanded the assistant to
+"Bring forth them pies."  And they were "brung."
+
+Each astonished puncher was gravely presented with a whole
+pie--bubbling kine, dimpled cayuses, and sprawling spurs.  Silence--as
+silence is wont to do in dramatic moments--reigned supreme.  Then it
+was that the purveyor of spontaneous Western exclamations missed his
+opportunity, being elsewhere at the time.
+
+"Whoop!  Let 'er buck!" exclaimed Bud Shoop, swinging an imaginary hat
+and rocking from side to side.
+
+"So-o, Boss!" exclaimed a puncher from the Middle West.
+
+"Hand-made and silver mounted," remarked another.  "Hate to eat 'em."
+
+"Trade you my pinto for a steer," offered still another.
+
+"Nothin" doin'!  That hoss of yours has got colic--bad."
+
+"Swap this here goat for that rooster of yours," said "Sinker," a youth
+whose early education in art had been neglected.
+
+"Goat?  You box-head!  That's a calf.  Kind 'a' mired down, but it's
+sure a calf.  And this ain't no rooster.  This here's a eagle settin'
+on his eggs.  You need specs."
+
+"Noah has sure been herdin' 'em in," said another puncher.
+
+Meanwhile, "Noah" stood in the messroom doorway, arms folded and face
+beaming.  His attitude invited applause, and won it.  Eventually his
+reputation as a "pie-artist" spread far and wide.  When it leaked out
+that he had wrought his masterpieces with a spur, there was some
+murmuring.  Being assured by the assistant that the spur had been
+previously boiled, the murmuring changed to approval.  "That new cook
+was sure a original cuss!  Stickin' right to the range in his
+picture-work.  Had them there old Hopi picture-writin's on the rocks
+beat a mile."  And the like.
+
+Inspired by a sense of repletion, conducive to generosity and humor,
+the boys presented Sundown with a pair of large-rowelled Mexican spurs,
+silver-mounted and altogether formidable.  Like many an historic
+adventurer, he had won his spurs by a _tour-de-force_ that swept his
+compatriots off their feet; innuendo if you will--but the average
+cowboy is capable of assimilating much pie.
+
+Although Sundown was offered the use of a bunk in the men's quarters,
+he chose to sleep in a box-stall in the stable, explaining that he was
+accustomed to sleep in all kinds of places, and that the unused
+box-stall with fresh clean straw and blankets would make a very
+comfortable bedroom.  His reason for declining a place with the men
+became apparent about midnight.
+
+Bud Shoop had, in a bluff, offhand way, given him a flannel shirt,
+overalls, an old flop-brimmed Stetson, and, much to Sundown's delight,
+a pair of old riding-boots.  Hitherto, Sundown had been too preoccupied
+with culinary matters to pay much attention to his clothing.
+Incidentally he was spending not a little time in getting accustomed to
+his spurs, which he wore upon all occasions, clinking and clanking
+about the cook-room, a veritable Don Quixote of the (kitchen) range.
+
+The arrival of Corliss, three days after Sundown's advent, had a
+stimulating effect on the new cook.  He determined to make the best
+appearance possible.
+
+The myriad Arizona stars burned with darting radiance, in thin,
+unwavering shafts of splintered fire.  The moon, coldly brilliant,
+sharp-edged and flat like a disk of silver paper, touched the twinkling
+aspens with a pallid glow and stamped a distorted silhouette of the
+low-roofed ranch-buildings on the hard-packed earth.  In the corral the
+shadow of a restless pony drifted back and forth.  Chance, chained to a
+post near the bunk-house, shook himself and sniffed the keen air, for
+just at that moment the stable door had opened and a ghostly figure
+appeared; a figure that shivered in the moonlight.  The dog bristled
+and whined.  "S-s-s-h!" whispered Sundown.  "It's me, ain't it?"
+
+With his bundle of clothes beneath his arm, he picked a hesitating
+course across the yard and deposited the bundle beside the
+water-trough.  Chance, not altogether satisfied with Sundown's
+assurance, proclaimed his distrust by a long nerve-reaching howl.  Some
+one in the bunkhouse muttered.  Sundown squatted hastily in the shadow
+of the trough.  Bud Shoop rose from his bunk and crept to the door.  He
+saw nothing unusual, and was about to return to his bed when an
+apparition rose slowly from behind the water-trough.  The foreman drew
+back in the shadow of the doorway and watched.
+
+Sundown's bath was extensive as to territory but brief as to duration.
+He dried himself with a gunny-sack and slipped shivering into his new
+raiment.  "That there September Morn ain't got nothin' on me except
+looks," he spluttered.  "And she is welcome to the looks.  Shirts and
+pants for mine!"
+
+Then he crept back to his blankets and slept the sleep of one who has
+atoned for his sins of omission and suffered righteously in the ordeal.
+
+Bud Shoop wanted to laugh, but forgot to do it.  Instead he padded back
+to his bunk and lay awake pondering.  "Takin' a bath sure does make a
+fella feel like the fella he wants to feel like--but in the
+drinkin'-trough, at night . . .!  I reckon that there Hobo ain't right
+in his head."
+
+Sundown dreamed that he was chasing an elusive rabbit over endless
+wastes of sand and greasewood.  With him ran a phantom dog, a lean,
+shaggy shape that raced tirelessly.  When Sundown wanted to give up the
+dream-hunt and rest, the dog would urge him on with whimperings and
+short, explosive barks of impatience.  Presently the dream-dog ran
+ahead and disappeared beyond a rise.  Sundown sank to the desert and
+slept.  He dreamed within his dream that the dog was curled beside him.
+He put out his hand and stroked the dog's head.  Presently a side of
+the box-stall took outline.  A ray of sunlight filtered in; sunlight
+flecked with fine golden dust.  The straw rustled at his side and he
+sat up quickly.  Chance, stretching himself and yawning, showed his
+long, white fangs in an elaborated dog-smile.  "Gee Gosh!" exclaimed
+Sundown, eyeing the dog sideways, "so it's you, eh?  You wasn't foolin'
+me, then, when you said we'd be pals?"
+
+Chance settled down in the straw again and sighed contentedly.
+
+From the corral came the sound of horses running.  The boys were
+catching up their ponies for the day's work.  Chance pricked his ears.
+"I guess it's up to me and you to move lively," said Sundown,
+stretching and groaning.  "We're sleepin' late, account of them
+midnight abolitions."
+
+He rose and limped to the doorway.  Chance followed him, evidently
+quite uninterested in the activities outside.  Would this queer,
+ungainly man-thing saddle a horse and ride with the others, or would he
+now depart on foot, taking the trail to Antelope?  Chance knew quite as
+well as did the men that something unusual was in the air.  Hi Wingle,
+the cook, had returned unexpectedly that night.  Chance had listened
+gravely while his master had told Bud Shoop that "the outfit" would
+move over to Bald Knoll in the morning.  Then the dog had barked and
+capered about, anticipating a break in the monotony of ranch-life.
+
+Sundown hurried to the cook-room.  Chance at his heels.  Hi Wingle was
+already installed in his old quarters, but he greeted Sundown heartily,
+and set him to work helping.
+
+After breakfast, Bud Shoop, in heavy wing chaps and trailing his spurs,
+swaggered up to Sundown.  "How you makin' it this mornin'?" he
+inquired.  There was a note of humorous good-fellowship in his voice
+that did not escape Sundown.
+
+"Doin' fine without crutches," replied Sundown, grinning.
+
+"Well, you go eat now, and I'll catch up a cayuse for you.  We're goin'
+to fan it for Bald Knoll in about ten minutes."
+
+"Do I go, too?"
+
+"Sure!  Do you think we don't eat pie only onct a year?  You bet you
+go--helpin' Hi.  Boss's orders."
+
+"Thanks--but I ain't no rider."
+
+Shoop glanced questioningly at Sundown's legs.  "Mebby not.  But if I
+owned them legs I'd contract to ride white-lightnin' bareback.  I'd
+just curl 'em 'round and grab holt of my feet when they showed up on
+the other side.  Them ain't legs; them's _cinchas_."
+
+"Mebby they ain't," sighed Sundown.  "It's the only pair I got, and I'm
+kind of used to 'em."
+
+"Did you let Chance loose?" queried the foreman.
+
+"Me?  Nix.  But he was sleepin' in the stall with me this mornin'."
+
+"Heard him goin' on last night.  Thought mebby a coyote or a wolf had
+strayed in to get a drink."
+
+"Get a drink!  Can't they get a drink up in them hills?"
+
+"Sure!  But they kind of fancy the flavor of the water-trough.  They
+come in frequent.  But you better fan it for chuck.  See you later."
+
+
+Sundown hurried through breakfast.  He was anxious to hear more about
+the habits of coyotes and wolves.  When he again came to the corral,
+many of the riders had departed.  Shoop stood waiting for John Corliss.
+
+"You said them wolves and coyotes--" began Sundown.
+
+"Yes, ding 'em!" interrupted Shoop.  "Looks like they come down last
+night.  Somethin' 's been monkeyin' with the water."
+
+"Did you ever see one--at night?" queried Sundown, nervously.
+
+"See 'em?  Why, I shot droves of 'em right from the bunk-house door.  I
+never miss a chance.  Cut loose every time I see one standin' with his
+front paws on the trough.  Get 'em every time."
+
+"Wisht I'd knowed that."
+
+"So?"
+
+"Uhuh.  I'd 'a' borrowed a gun off you and set up and watched for 'em
+myself."
+
+Bud Shoop made a pretense of tightening a cinch on Sundown's pony, that
+he might "blush unseen," as it were.
+
+Presently Corliss appeared and motioned to Shoop.  "How's the new cook
+doing?" he asked.
+
+"Fine!"
+
+Sundown retired modestly to the off-side of the pony.
+
+"Got a line on him already," said Shoop.  "First thing, Chance, here,
+took to him.  Then, next thing, he manufactures a batch of pies that
+ain't been matched on the Concho since she was a ranch.  Then, next
+thing after that, Chance slips his collar and goes and bushes with the
+Bo--sleeps with him till this mornin'.  And you can rope me for a
+parson if that walkin' wish-bone didn't get to ramblin' in his sleep
+last night and come out and take a _bath_ in the _drinkin_'-trough!
+He's got on them clothes I give him, this mornin'.  Can you copper
+that?"
+
+"Bad dream, Bud."
+
+"You wait!" said the grinning foreman.  "You watch him.  Don't pay no
+'tention to me."
+
+Corliss smiled.  Shoop's many and devious methods of estimating
+character had their humorous angles.  The rancher appreciated a joke
+quite as much as did any of his employees, but usually as a spectator
+and not a participant.  Bud Shoop had served him well and faithfully,
+tiding over many a threatened quarrel among the men by a humorous
+suggestion or a seemingly impersonal anecdote anent disputes in
+general.  So Corliss waited, meanwhile inspecting the ponies in the
+corral.  He noticed a pinto with a saddle-gall and told Shoop to turn
+the horse out on the range.
+
+"It's one of Fadeaway's string," said Shoop.
+
+"I know it.  Catch him up."
+
+Shoop, who felt that his opportunity to confirm his dream-like
+statement about Sundown's bathing, was slipping away, suddenly evolved
+a plan.  He knew that the horses had all been watered.  "Hey!" he
+called to Sundown, who stood gravely inspecting his own mount.  "Come
+over here and make this cayuse drink.  He won't for me."
+
+Shoop roped the horse and handed the rope to Sundown, who marched to
+the water-trough.  The pony sniffed at the water and threw up his head.
+"I reckoned that was it!" said Shoop.
+
+"What?" queried Corliss, meanwhile watching Sundown's face.
+
+"Oh, some dam' coyote's been paddlin' in that trough again.  No wonder
+the hosses won't drink this mornin'.  I don't blame 'em."
+
+Sundown rolled a frightened eye and tried to look at everything but his
+companions.  Corliss and Shoop exploded simultaneously.  Slowly the
+light of understanding dawned, rose, and radiated in the dull red of
+the new cook's face.  He was hurt and a bit angry.  The anticipating
+and performing of his midnight ablutions had cost Slim a mighty
+struggle, mentally and otherwise.
+
+"If you think it's any early mornin' joke to take a wash-up in that
+there Chinese coffin--why, try her yourself, about midnight."  Then he
+addressed Shoop singly.  "If I was _you_, and you got kind of
+absent-minded and done likewise, and I seen _you_, do you think I'd go
+snitch to the boss?  Nix, for it might set him to worryin'."
+
+Shoop accepted the compliment good-naturedly, for he knew he had earned
+it.  He swaggered up to Sundown and slapped him on the back.  "Cheer
+up, pardner, and listen to the good news.  I'm goin' to have that
+trough made three foot longer so it'll be more comfortable."
+
+"Thanks, but never again at night.  Guess if I hadn't been feelin'
+all-to-Gosh happy at havin' a home and a job, I'd 'a' froze stiff."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+ON THE CAŅON TRAIL
+
+The Loring homestead, a group of low-roofed adobe buildings blending
+with the abrupt red background of the hill which sheltered it from the
+winter winds, was a settlement in itself, providing shelter and comfort
+for the wives and children of the herders.  Each home maintained a
+small garden of flowers and vegetables.  Across the somber brown of the
+'dobe walls hung strings of chiles drying in the sun.  Gay blossoms,
+neatly kept garden rows, red ollas hanging in the shade of cypress and
+acacia, the rose-bordered plaza on which fronted the house of the
+patron, the gigantic windmill purring lazily and turning now to the
+right, now to the left, to meet the varying breeze, the entire prospect
+was in its pastoral quietude a reflection of Seņora Loring's sweet and
+placid nature.  Innuendo might include the windmill, and justly so, for
+the Seņora in truth met the varying breeze of circumstance and
+invariably turned it to good uses, cooling the hot temper of the patron
+with a flow of soft Spanish utterances, and enriching the simple lives
+of the little colony with a charity as free and unvarying as the flow
+of the clear, cool water.
+
+Far to the east, where the mesas sloped gently to the hills, grazed the
+sheep, some twenty bands of a thousand each, and each band guarded and
+cared for by a herder and an assistant who cooked and at times
+journeyed with the lazy burros to and from the hacienda for supplies
+and provisions.
+
+David Loring, erstwhile plainsman and scout, had drifted in the early
+days from New Mexico to Arizona with his small band of sheep, and
+settled in the valley of the Concho.  He had been tolerated by the
+cattle-men, as his flock was but a speck on the limitless mesas.  As
+his holdings increased, the ranchers awakened to the fact that he had
+come to stay and that some boundary must be established to protect
+their grazing.  The Concho River was chosen as the dividing line, which
+would have been well enough had Loring been a party to the agreement.
+But he declined to recognize any boundary.  The cattle-men felt that
+they had given him fair warning in naming the Concho as the line of
+demarcation.  He, in turn, considered that his right to graze his sheep
+on any part or all of the free range had not been circumscribed.
+
+His neighbor--if cattle-men and sheep-men may under any circumstances
+be termed neighbors--was John Corliss.  The Corliss rancho was just
+across the river opposite the Loring homestead.  After the death of
+their parents the Corliss boys, John and his younger brother Will, had
+been constant visitors at the sheep-man's home, both of them enjoying
+the vivacious companionship of Eleanor Loring, and each, in his way, in
+love with the girl.  Eventually the younger brother disappeared without
+any apparent reason.  Then it was that John Corliss's visits to the
+Loring rancho became less frequent and the friendliness which had
+existed between the rival ranches became a kind of tolerant
+acquaintanceship, as that of neighbors who have nothing in common save
+the back fence.
+
+
+Fernando, the oldest herder in Loring's employ, stood shading his eyes
+from the glare of noon as he gazed toward the distant rancho.  His son
+was with the flock and the old man had just risen from preparing the
+noon meal.  "The Seņorita," he murmured, and his swart features were
+lighted by a wrinkled smile.  He stepped to his tent, whipped a gay
+bandanna from his blankets and knotted it about his lean throat.  Then
+he took off his hat, gazing at it speculatively.  It was beyond
+reconstruction as to definite shape, so he tossed it to the ground, ran
+his fingers through his silver-streaked hair, and stepped out to await
+his Seņorita's arrival.
+
+The sunlight flashed on silver spur and bit as the black-and-white
+pinto "Challenge" swept across the mesa toward the sheep-camp.  Into
+the camp he flung, fretting at the curb and pivoting.  His rider,
+Eleanor Loring, about to dismount, spoke to him sharply.  Still he
+continued to pivot uneasily.  "Morning, Fernando!  Challenge is fussy
+this morning.  I'll be right back!"  And she disciplined Challenge with
+bit and spur, wheeling him and loping him away from the camp.  Down the
+trail she checked him and brought him around on his hind feet.  Back
+they came, with a rush.  Fernando's deep-set eyes glowed with
+admiration as the girl "set-up" the pinto and swung to the ground with
+a laugh.  "Made him do it all over again, si.  He is the big baby, but
+he pretends he is bronco.  Don't you, Challenge?"  She dropped the
+reins and rubbed his nose.  The pony laid back his ears in simulated
+anger and nipped at her sleeve.  "Straighten your ears up, pronto!" she
+commanded, nevertheless laughing.  Then a strain of her father's blood
+was apparent as she seized the reins and stood back from the horse.
+"Because you're bluffing this morning, I'm going to make you do your
+latest trick.  Down!" she commanded.  The pony extended his foreleg and
+begged to shake hands.  "No!  Down!"  With a grunt the horse dropped to
+his knees, rolled to his side, but still kept his head raised.  "Clear
+down!  Dead, Challenge!"  The horse lay with extended neck, but
+switched his tail significantly.  "Don't you dare roll!" she said, as
+he gave evidence of getting up.  Then, at her gesture, he heaved
+himself to his feet and shook himself till the stirrups clattered.  The
+girl dropped the reins and turned to the old herder.  "I taught him
+that, Fernando.  I didn't make him do it just to show off.  He
+understands now, and he'll behave."
+
+Old Fernando grinned.  "He always have the good manner, being always
+with the Seņorita," he said bowing.
+
+"Thanks, Fernando.  You always say something nice.  But I can't let you
+get ahead of me.  What a pretty scarf.  It's just right.  Do you wear
+it always, Fernando?"
+
+"It is--I know--what the vaquero of the Concho call the 'josh' that you
+give me, but I am yet not too old to like it.  It is muy pleasure, si!
+to be noticed when one is old--by the Seņorita of especial."
+
+The girl's dark eyes flashed and she laughed happily.  "It's lots of
+fun, isn't it--to 'josh'?  But I came to see if you needed anything."
+
+"Nothing while still the Seņorita is at thees camp."
+
+"Well, you'd better think up something, for I'm going in a minute.
+Have to make the rounds.  Dad is down with the rheumatism and as cross
+as a grizzly.  I was glad to get away.  And then, there's Madre."
+
+Fernando smiled and nodded.  He was not unfamiliar with the patron's
+temper when rheumatism obliged him to be inactive.  "He say nothing,
+the patron--that we cross the sheep to the west of the river, Seņorita?"
+
+"No.  Not lately.  I don't know why he should want to.  The feed is
+good here."
+
+"I have this morning talk with the vaquero Corlees.  He tell me that
+the South Fork is dry up."
+
+"John Corliss is not usually interested in our sheep," said the girl.
+
+"No.  Of the sheep he knows nothing."  And the old herder smiled.  "But
+many times he look out there," he added, pointing toward the Loring
+rancho.
+
+"He was afraid father would catch him talking to one of the herders,"
+laughed the girl.
+
+"The vaquero Corlees he afraid of not even the bear, I think, Seņorita."
+
+Eleanor Loring laughed.  "Don't you let father catch you calling him a
+bear!" she cautioned, provoking the old herder to immediate apology and
+a picturesque explanation of the fact that he had referred not to the
+patron, but the grizzly.
+
+"All right, Fernando.  I'll not forget to tell the patron that you
+called him a bear."
+
+The old herder grinned and waved farewell as she mounted and rode down
+the trail.  Practical in everyday affairs, he untied his bandanna and
+neatly folded and replaced it among his effects.  As he came out of the
+tent he picked up his hat.  He was no longer the cavalier, but a
+stoop-shouldered, shriveled little Mexican herder.  He slouched out
+toward the flock and called his son to dinner.  No, it was not so many
+years--was not the Seņorita but twenty years old?--since he had wooed
+the Seņora Loring, then a slim dark girl of the people, his people, but
+now the wealthy Seņora, wife of his patron.  Ah, yes!  It was good that
+she should have the comfortable home and the beautiful daughter.  He
+had nothing but his beloved sheep, but did they not belong to his
+Seņorita?
+
+
+At the ford the girl took the trail to the uplands, deciding to visit
+the farthest camp first, and then, if she had time, to call at one or
+two other camps on her way back to the rancho.  As the trail grew
+steeper, she curbed the impatient Challenge to a steadier pace and rode
+leisurely to the level of the timber.  On the park-like level,
+clean-swept between the boles of the great pines, she again put
+Challenge to a lope until she came to the edge on the upper mesa.  Then
+she drew up suddenly and held the horse in.
+
+Far out on the mesa was the figure of a man, on foot.  Toward him came
+a horse without bridle or saddle.  She recognized the figure as that of
+John Corliss, and she wondered why he was on foot and evidently trying
+to coax a stray horse toward him.  Presently she saw Corliss reach out
+slowly and give the horse something from his hand.  Still she was
+puzzled, and urging Challenge forward, drew nearer.  The stray, seeing
+her horse, pricked up its ears, swung round stiffly, and galloped off.
+Corliss turned and held up his hand, palm toward her.  It was their old
+greeting; a greeting that they had exchanged as boy and girl long
+before David Loring had become recognized as a power to be reckoned
+with in the Concho Valley.
+
+"Peace?" she queried, smiling, as she rode up.
+
+"Why not, Nell?"
+
+"Oh, cattle and sheep, I suppose.  There's no other reason, is there?"
+
+Corliss was silent, thinking of his brother Will.
+
+"Unless--Will--" she said, reading his thought.
+
+He shook his head, "That would be no reason for--for our quarreling,
+would it?"
+
+She laughed.  "Why, who has quarreled?  I'm sure I haven't."
+
+"But you don't seem the same--since Will left."
+
+"Neither do you, John.  You haven't called at the rancho for--well,
+about a year."
+
+"And then I was told to stay away even longer than that."
+
+"Oh, you mustn't mind Dad.  He growls--but he won't bite."
+
+Corliss glanced up at her.  His steady gray eyes were smiling, but his
+lips were grave.  "Would it make any difference if I did come?"
+
+The girl's dark face flushed and her eyes sparkled.  "Lots!  Perhaps
+you and Dad could agree to stop growling altogether.  But we won't talk
+about it.  I'd like to know what you are doing up here afoot?"
+
+"Wouldn't tell you for a dollar," he replied, smiling.  "My horse is
+over there--near the timber.  The rest of the band are at the
+waterhole."
+
+"Oh, but you will tell me!" she said.  "And before we get back to the
+caņon."
+
+"I wasn't headed that way--" he began; but she interrupted quickly.
+
+"Of course.  I'm not, either."  Then she glanced at him with mischief
+scintillating in her dark eyes.  "Fernando told me you were talking
+with him this morning.  I don't see that it has done you much good."
+
+His perplexity was apparent in his silence.
+
+"Fernando is--is polite," she asserted, wheeling her horse.
+
+Corliss stood gazing at her unsmilingly.  "I want to be," he said
+presently.
+
+"Oh, John!  I--you always take things so seriously.  I was just
+'joshing' you, as Fernando says.  Of course you do!  Won't you shake
+hands?"
+
+He strode forward.  The girl drew off her gauntlet and extended her
+hand.  "Let's begin over again," she said as he shook hands with her.
+"We've both been acting."
+
+Before she was aware of his intent, he bowed his head and kissed her
+fingers.  She drew her hand away with a little cry of surprise.  She
+was pleased, yet he mistook her expression.
+
+He flushed and, confused, drew back.  "I--I didn't mean it," he said,
+as though apologizing for his gallantry.
+
+The girl's eyes dilated for an instant.  Then she laughed with all the
+joyous _abandon_ of youth and absolute health.  "You get worse and
+worse," she said, teasingly.  "Do go and have another talk with
+Fernando, John.  Then come and tell me all about it."
+
+Despite her teasing, Corliss was beginning to enjoy the play.  As a
+rule undemonstrative, he was when moved capable of intense feeling, and
+the girl knew it.  She saw a light in his eyes that she recognized; a
+light that she remembered well, for once when they were boy and girl
+together she had dared him to kiss her, and had not been disappointed.
+
+"You are cross this morning," she said, making as though to go.
+
+"Well, I've begun over again, Nell.  You wait till I get Chinook and
+we'll ride home together."
+
+"Oh, but I'm--you're not going that way," she mocked.
+
+"Yes, I am--and so are you.  If you won't wait, I'll catch you up,
+anyway.  You daren't put Challenge down the caņon trail faster than a
+walk."
+
+"I daren't?  Then, catch me!"
+
+She wheeled her pony and sped toward the timber.  Corliss, running
+heavily in his high-heeled boots, caught up his own horse and leaped to
+the saddle as Chinook broke into a run.  The young rancher knew that
+the girl would do her best to beat him to the caņon level.  He feared
+for her safety on the ragged trail below them.
+
+Chinook swung down the trail taking the turns without slackening his
+speed and Corliss, leaning in on the curves, dodged the sweeping
+branches.
+
+Arrived at the far edge of the timber, he could see the girl ahead of
+him, urging Challenge down the rain-gutted trail at a lope.  As she
+pulled up at an abrupt turn, she waved to him.  He accepted the
+challenge and, despite his better judgment, set spurs to Chinook.
+
+Round the next turn he reined up and leaped from his horse.  Below him
+he saw Challenge, riderless, and galloping along the edge of the
+hillside.  On the trail lay Eleanor Loring, her black hair vivid
+against the gray of the shale.  He plunged toward her and stooping
+caught her up in his arms.  "Nell!  Nell!" he cried, smoothing back her
+hair from her forehead.  "God, Nell!  I--I didn't mean it."
+
+Her eyelids quivered.  Then she gasped.  He could feel her trembling.
+Presently her eyes opened and a faint smile touched her white lips.
+"I'm all right.  Challenge fell--and I jumped clear.  Struck my head.
+Don't look at me like that!  I'm not going to die."
+
+"I'm--I'm mighty glad, Nell!" he said, helping her to a seat on the
+rock against which she had fallen.
+
+Her hands were busy with her hair.  He found her hat and handed it to
+her.  "If my head wasn't just splitting, I'd like to laugh.  You are
+the funniest man alive!  I couldn't speak, but I heard you call to me
+and tell me you didn't mean it!  Then you say you are mighty glad I'm
+alive.  Doesn't that sound funny enough to bring a person to life
+again?"
+
+"No, it's not funny.  It was a close call."
+
+She glanced at his grave, white face.  "Guess you were scared, John.  I
+didn't know you could be scared at anything.  Jack Corliss as white as
+a sheet and trembling like a--a girl!"
+
+"On account of a girl," said Corliss, smiling a little.
+
+"Now, _that_ sounds better.  What were you doing up on the mesa this
+afternoon?"
+
+"I took some lump-sugar up for my old pony, Apache.  He likes it."
+
+"Well, I'll never forget it!" she exclaimed.  "How the boys would laugh
+if they heard _you'd_ been feeding sugar to an old broken-down
+cow-pony!  You!  Why, I feel better already."
+
+"I'm right glad you do, Nell.  But you needn't say anything about the
+sugar.  I kind of like the old hoss.  Will you promise?"
+
+"I don't know.  Oh, my head!"  She went white and leaned against him.
+He put his arm around her, and her head lay back against his shoulder.
+"I'll be all right--in a minute," she murmured.
+
+He bent above her, his eyes burning.  Slowly he drew her close and
+kissed her lips.  Her eyelids quivered and lifted.  "Nell!" he
+whispered.
+
+"Did you mean it?" she murmured, smiling wanly.
+
+He drew his head back and gazed at her up-turned face.  "I'm all
+right," she said, and drew herself up beside him.  "Serves me right for
+putting Challenge down the trail so fast."
+
+As they rode homeward Corliss told her of the advent of Sundown and
+what the latter had said about the wreck and the final disappearance of
+his "pal," Will Corliss.
+
+The girl heard him silently and had nothing to say until they parted at
+the ford.  Then she turned to him.  "I don't believe Will was killed.
+I can't say why, but if he had been killed I think I should have known
+it.  Don't ask me to explain, John.  I have always expected that he
+would come back.  I have been thinking about him lately."
+
+"I can't understand it," said Corliss.  "Will always had what he
+wanted.  He owns a half-interest in the Concho.  I can't do as I want
+to, sometimes.  My hands are tied, for if I made a bad move and lost
+out, I'd be sinking Will's money with mine."
+
+"I wouldn't make any bad moves if I were you," said the girl, glancing
+at the rancher's grave face.
+
+"Business is business, Nell.  We needn't begin that old argument.
+Only, understand this: I'll play square just as long as the other side
+plays square.  There's going to be trouble before long and you know
+why.  It won't begin on the west side of the Concho."
+
+"Good-bye, John," said the girl, reining her pony around.
+
+He raised his hat.  Then he wheeled Chinook and loped toward the ranch.
+
+Eleanor Loring, riding slowly, thought of what he had said.  "He won't
+give in an inch," she said aloud.  "Will would have given up the cattle
+business, or anything else, to please me."  Then she reasoned with
+herself, knowing that Will Corliss had given up all interest in the
+Concho, not to please her but to hurt her, for the night before his
+disappearance he had asked her to marry him and she had very sensibly
+refused, telling him frankly that she liked him, but that until he had
+settled down to something worth while she had no other answer for him.
+
+She was thinking of Will when she rode in to the rancho and turned her
+horse over to Miguel.  Suddenly she flushed, remembering John Corliss's
+eyes as he had held her in his arms.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+THE BROTHERS
+
+As Corliss rode up to the ranch gate he took the mail from the little
+wooden mail-box and stuffed it into his pocket with the exception of a
+letter which bore the postmark of Antelope and his address in a
+familiar handwriting.  He tore the envelope open hastily and glanced at
+the signature, "Will."
+
+Then he read the letter.  It told of his brother's unexpected arrival
+in Antelope, penniless and sick.  Corliss was not altogether surprised
+except in regard to the intuition of Eleanor, which puzzled him, coming
+as it had so immediately preceding the letter.
+
+He rode to the rancho and ordered one of the men to have the buckboard
+at the gate early next morning.  He wondered why his brother had not
+driven out to the ranch, being well known in Antelope and able to
+command credit.  Then he thought of Eleanor, and surmised that his
+brother possibly wished to avoid meeting her.  And as it happened, he
+was not mistaken.
+
+On the evening of the following day he drove up to the Palace Hotel and
+inquired for his brother.  The proprietor drew him to one side.  "It's
+all right for you to see him, John, but I been tryin' to keep him in
+his room.  He's--well, he ain't just feelin' right to be on the street.
+Sabe?"
+
+Corliss nodded, and turning, climbed the stairs.  He knocked at a door.
+There was no response.  He knocked again.
+
+"What you want?" came in a muffled voice.
+
+"It's John," said Corliss.  "Let me in."
+
+The door opened, and Corliss stepped into the room to confront a dismal
+scene.  On the washstand stood several empty whiskey bottles and murky
+glasses.  The bedding was half on the floor, and standing with hand
+braced against the wall was Will Corliss, ragged, unshaven, and visibly
+trembling.  His eyelids were red and swollen.  His face was white save
+for the spots that burned on his emaciated cheeks.
+
+"John!" he exclaimed, and extended his hand.
+
+Corliss shook hands with him and then motioned him to a chair.  "Well,
+Will, if you're sick, this isn't the way to get over it."
+
+"Brother's keeper, eh?  Glad to see me back, eh, Jack?"
+
+"Not in this shape.  What do you suppose Nell would think?"
+
+"I don't know and I don't care.  I'm sick.  That's all."
+
+"Where have you been--for the last three years?"
+
+"A whole lot you care.  Been?  I have been everywhere from heaven to
+hell--the whole route.  I'm in hell just now."
+
+"You look it.  Will, what can I do for you?  You want to quit the booze
+and straighten up.  You're killing yourself."
+
+"Maybe I don't know it!  Say, Jack, I want some dough.  I'm broke."
+
+"All right.  How much?"
+
+"A couple of hundred--for a starter."
+
+"What are you going to do with it?"
+
+"What do you suppose?  Not going to eat it."
+
+"No.  And you're not going to drink it, either.  I'll see that you have
+everything you need.  You're of age and can do as you like.  But you're
+not going to kill yourself with whiskey."
+
+Will Corliss stared at his brother; then laughed.
+
+"Have one with me, Jack.  You didn't used to be afraid of it."
+
+"I'm not now, but I'm not going to take a drink with you."
+
+"Sorry.  Well, here's looking."  And the brother poured himself a
+half-tumblerful of whiskey and gulped it down.  "Now, let's talk
+business."
+
+Corliss smiled despite his disgust.  "All right.  You talk and I'll
+listen."
+
+The brother slouched to the bed and sat down.  "How's the Concho been
+making it?" he asked.
+
+"We've been doing pretty fair.  I've been busy."
+
+"How's old man Loring?"
+
+"About the same."
+
+"Nell gone into mourning?"
+
+Corliss frowned and straightened his shoulders.
+
+"See here, Will, you said you'd talk business.  I'm waiting."
+
+"Touched you that time, eh?  Well, you can have Nell and be damned.  No
+Mexican blood for mine."
+
+"If you weren't down and out--" began Corliss; then checked himself.
+"Go ahead.  What do you want?"
+
+"I told you--money."
+
+"And I told you--no."
+
+The younger man started up.  "Think because I'm edged up that I don't
+know what's mine?  You've been piling it up for three years and I've
+been hitting the road.  Now I've come to get what belongs to me and I'm
+going to get it!"
+
+"All right, Will.  But don't forget that I was made guardian of your
+interest in the Concho until you got old enough to be responsible.  The
+will reads, until you come of age, providing you had settled down and
+showed that you could take care of yourself.  Father didn't leave his
+money to either of us to be drunk up, or wasted."
+
+"Prodigal son, eh, Jack?  Well, I'm it.  What's the use of getting sore
+at me?  All I want is a couple of hundred and I'll get out of this town
+mighty quick.  It's the deadest burg I've struck yet."
+
+John Corliss gazed at his brother, thinking of the bright-faced,
+blue-eyed lad that had ridden the mesas and the hills with him.  He was
+touched by the other's miserable condition, and even more grieved to
+realize that this condition was but the outcome of a rapid lowering of
+the other's moral and physical well-being.  He strode to him and sat
+beside him.  "Will, I'll give anything I have to help you.  You know
+that.  Anything!  You're so changed that it just makes me sick to
+realize it.  You needn't have got where you are.  I would have helped
+you out any time.  Why didn't you write to me?"
+
+"Write?  And have you tell Nell Loring how your good little brother was
+whining for help?  She would have enjoyed that--after what she handed
+me."
+
+"I don't know what she said to you," said Corliss, glancing at his
+brother.  "But I know this: she didn't say anything that wasn't so.  If
+that's the reason you left home, it was a mighty poor one.  You've
+always had your own way, Will."
+
+"Why shouldn't I?  Who's got anything to say about it?  You seem to
+think that I always need looking after--you and Nell Loring.  I can
+look after myself."
+
+"Doesn't look like it," said Corliss, gesturing toward the washstand.
+"Had anything to eat to-day?"
+
+"No, and I don't want anything."
+
+"Well, wash up and we'll go and get some clothes and something to eat.
+I'll wait."
+
+"You needn't.  Just give me a check--and I won't bother you after that."
+
+"No.  I said wash up!  Get busy now!"
+
+The younger man demurred, but finally did as he was told.  They went
+downstairs and out to the street.  In an hour they returned, Will
+Corliss looking somewhat like his former self in respectable raiment.
+"John," he said as they entered the room again, "you've always been a
+good old stand-by, ever since we were kids.  I guess I got in bad this
+time, but I'm going to quit.  I don't want to go back to the
+Concho--you know why.  If you'll give me some dough I'll take care of
+myself.  Just forget what I said about my share of the money."
+
+"Wait till morning," said Corliss.  "I'll take the room next, here, and
+if you get to feeling bad, call me."
+
+"All right, Jack.  I'll cut it out.  Maybe I will go back to the
+Concho; I don't know."
+
+"Wish you would, Will.  You'll get on your feet.  There's plenty to do
+and we're short-handed.  Think it over."
+
+"Does--Nell--ever say anything?" queried the brother.
+
+"She talks about you often.  Yesterday we were talking about you.  I
+told her what Sundown said about--"
+
+"Sundown?"
+
+"Forgot about him.  He drifted in a few months ago.  I met up with him
+at the water-hole ranch.  He was broke and looking for work.  Gave him
+a job cooking, and he made good.  He told me that he used to have a pal
+named Will Corliss--"
+
+"And Sundown's at the Concho!  I never told him where I lived."
+
+"He came into Antelope on a freight.  Got side-tracked and had to stay.
+He didn't know this used to be your country till I told him."
+
+"Well, that beats me, Jack!  Say, Sun was just an uncle to me when we
+were on the road.  We made it clear around, freights, cattle-boats, and
+afoot.  I didn't hit the booze then.  Funny thing: he used to hit it,
+and I kind of weaned him.  Now it's me. . ."
+
+"He's straight, all right," said Corliss.  "He 'tends right to
+business.  The boys like him."
+
+"Everybody liked him," asserted Will Corliss.  "But he is the queerest
+Hobo that ever hit the grit."
+
+"Some queer, at that.  It's after nine now, Will.  You get to bed.  I
+want to see Banks a minute.  I'll be back soon."
+
+When John Corliss had left the room, something intangible went with
+him.  Will felt his moral stamina crumbling.  He waited until he heard
+his brother leave the hotel.  Then he went downstairs and returned with
+a bottle of whiskey.  He drank, hid the bottle, and went to bed.  He
+knew that without the whiskey he would have been unable to sleep.
+
+
+The brothers had breakfast together next morning.  After breakfast
+Corliss went for the team and returned to the hotel, hoping to induce
+his brother to come home with him.  Will Corliss, however, pleaded
+weariness, and said that he would stay at the Palace until he felt
+better.
+
+"All right, Will.  I'll leave some cash with Banks.  He'll give you
+what you need as you want it."
+
+"Banks?  The sheriff?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Oh, all right.  Suppose you think I'm not to be trusted."
+
+"No.  But we'll leave it that way till I see you again.  Write in if
+you need me--and take care of yourself.  When you get ready to settle
+down, I'll turn over your share of the Concho to you.  So long, Will."
+
+Will Corliss watched his brother drive away.  When the team had
+disappeared up the road he walked down the street to the sheriff's
+office.  The sheriff greeted him cordially.
+
+"I came for that money, Jim."
+
+"Sure!  Here you are," and the sheriff handed him a five-dollar
+gold-piece.
+
+"Quit kidding and come across," said Corliss, ignoring the significance
+of the allowance.
+
+"Can't, Will.  John said to give you five any time you wanted it, but
+only five a day."
+
+"He did, eh?  John's getting mighty close in his old age, ain't he?"
+
+"Mebby.  I don't know."
+
+"How much did he leave for me?"
+
+"Five a day, as I said."
+
+"Oh, you go to hell!"
+
+The sheriff smiled pleasantly.  "Nope, Billy!  I'm goin' to stay right
+to home.  Have a cigar?"
+
+The young man refused the proffered cigar, picked up the gold-piece and
+strolled out.
+
+The sheriff leaned back in his chair.  "Well if Billy feels that way
+toward folks, reckon he won't get far with John, or anybody else.  Too
+dinged bad.  He used to be a good kid."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+FADEAWAY'S HAND
+
+Fadeaway, one of the Concho riders, urged his cayuse through the ford,
+reined short, and turned to watch Chance, who accompanied him.  The dog
+drew back from the edge of the stream and bunching himself, shot up and
+over the muddy water, nor did the jump break his stride as he leaped to
+overtake the rider, who had spurred out of his way.  Fadeaway cursed
+joyously and put his pony to a lope.  Stride for stride Chance ran
+beside him.  The cowboy, swaying easily, turned and looked down upon
+the dog.  Chance was enjoying himself.  "Wonder how fast the cuss _can_
+run?"  And Fadeaway swung his quirt.  The stride quickened to the
+rhythmic beat of the cow-horse at top speed.  The dog kept abreast
+without apparent effort.  A half-mile beyond the ford the pace
+slackened as the pony took the hill across which the trail led to the
+open mesas.  As they topped the rise Fadeaway again urged his cayuse to
+a run, for the puncher had enjoyed the hospitality of his companions of
+"The Blue," a distant cattle ranch, a day longer than had been set for
+his return to the Concho.  Just then a startled jack rabbit leaped up
+and bounced down the trail ahead of them.  Fadeaway jerked his horse to
+a stop.  "Now we'll see some real speed!" he said.  There was a flash
+of the dog's long body, which grew smaller and smaller in the distance;
+then a puff of dust spurted up.  Fadeaway saw the dog turn end over
+end, regain his feet and toss something in the air.
+
+"The fastest dog in Arizona," remarked the cowboy.  "And you, you
+glass-eyed son of a mistake, you're about as fast as a fence-post!"
+This to his patient and willing pony, that again swung into a run and
+ran steadily despite his fatigue, for he feared the instant slash of
+the quirt should he slacken pace.
+
+Round a bend in the trail, where an arm of the distant forest ran out
+into the mesa.  Fadeaway again set his horse up viciously.  Chance
+stopped and looked up at the rider.  The cowboy pointed through the
+thin rim of timber beyond which a herd of sheep was grazing.  "Take
+'em!" he whispered.  Chance hesitated, not because he was unfamiliar
+with sheep, but because he had been punished for chasing and worrying
+them.  "Go to it!  Take 'em, Chance!"
+
+The dog slunk through the timber and disappeared.  The cowboy rode
+slowly, peering through the timber.  Presently came the trample of
+frightened sheep--a shrill bleating, and then silence.  Fadeaway loped
+out into the open.  The sheep were running in all directions.  He
+whistled the dog to him.  Chance's muzzle dripped red.  The dog slunk
+round behind the horse, knowing that he had done wrong, despite the
+fact that he had been set upon the sheep.
+
+From the edge of the timber some one shouted.  The cowboy turned and
+saw a herder running toward him.  He reined around and sat waiting
+grimly.  When the herder was within speaking distance.  Fadeaway's hand
+dropped to his hip and the herder stopped.  He gesticulated and spoke
+rapidly in Spanish.  Fadeaway answered, but in a kind of Spanish not
+taught in schools or heard in indoor conversation.
+
+The herder pressed forward.  "Why, how! Fernando.  Now what's bitin'
+you?"
+
+"The sheep!  He kill the lamb!" cried the herder.
+
+Fadeaway laughed.  "Did, eh?  Well, I tried to call him off.  Reckon
+you heard me whistle him, didn't you?"
+
+The cowboy's assertion was so palpably an insult that old Fernando's
+anger overcame his caution.  He stepped forward threateningly.
+Fadeaway's gun was out and a splash of dust leaped up at Fernando's
+feet.  The herder turned and ran.  Fadeaway laughed and swung away at a
+lope.
+
+When he arrived at the Concho he unsaddled, turned his pony into the
+corral, and called to Chance.  He was at the water-trough washing the
+dog's muzzle when John Corliss appeared.  Fadeaway straightened up.  He
+knew what was coming and knew that he deserved it.  The effects of his
+conviviality at the Blue had worn off, leaving him in an ugly mood.
+
+Corliss looked him over from head to heel.  Then he glanced at the dog.
+Chance turned his head down and sideways, avoiding his master's eye.
+Fadeaway laughed.
+
+"You get your time!" said Corliss.
+
+"You're dam' right!" retorted Fadeaway.
+
+"And you're damned wrong!  Chance knows better than to tackle sheep
+unless he's put up to it.  You needn't explain.  Bud will give you your
+time."
+
+Then Corliss turned to Shoop who had just ridden in.
+
+"Chain that dog up and keep him chained up!  And give Fadeaway his
+time, right up to the minute!"
+
+Shoop dropped easily from the saddle, led his horse toward the corral,
+and whistled a sprightly ditty as he unsaddled him.
+
+Fadeaway rolled a cigarette and strolled over to the bunk-house where
+he retailed his visit and its climax to a group of interested punchers.
+
+"So he tied the can onto you, eh?  And for settin' Chance on the sheep?
+He ought to be much obliged to you, Fade.  They ain't room for sheep
+and cattle both on this here range.  We're gettin' backed plumb into
+the sunset."
+
+Fadeaway nodded to the puncher who had spoken.
+
+"And ole man Loring's just run in twenty thousand head from New Mex.,"
+continued the puncher.  "Wonder how Corliss likes that?"
+
+"Don' know--and dam' 'f I care.  If a guy can't have a little sport
+without gettin' fired for it, why, that guy don't work for the Concho.
+The Blue's good enough for me and I can get a job ridin' for the Blue
+any time I want to cinch up."
+
+"Well, Fade, I reckon you better cinch up pronto, then," said Shoop who
+had just entered.  "Here's your time.  Jack's some sore, believe me!"
+
+"Sore, eh?  Well, before he gets through with me he'll be sorer.  You
+can tell him for me."
+
+"'Course I _can_--but I ain't goin' to.  And I wouldn't if I was you.
+No use showin' your hand so early in the game."  And Shoop laughed.
+
+"Well, she's full--six aces," said Fadeaway, touching his holster
+significantly.
+
+"And Jack throws the fastest gun on the Concho," said Shoop, his genial
+smile gone; his face flushed.  "I been your friend, if I do say it,
+Fade.  But don't you go away with any little ole idea that I ain't
+workin' for Jack Corliss."
+
+"What's that to me?  I'm fired, ain't I?"
+
+"Correct.  Only I was thinkin' your cayuse is all in.  You couldn't get
+out of sight on him tonight.  But you can take one of my string and
+send it back when you get ready."
+
+"Oh, I ain't sweatin' to hit the trail," said Fadeaway, for the benefit
+of his audience.
+
+"All right, Fade.  But the boss is.  It's up to you."
+
+
+After he had eaten, Fadeaway rolled his few belongings in his slicker
+and tied it to the saddle.  He was not afraid of Corliss, but like men
+of his stamp he wanted Corliss to know that he was not alone unafraid,
+but willing to be aggressive.  He mounted and rode up to the
+ranch-house.  Corliss, who had seen him approach through the window,
+sat at his desk, waiting for the cow-boy to dismount and come in.  But
+Fadeaway sat his horse, determined to make the rancher come outside.
+
+Corliss understood, and pushing back his chair, strode to the doorway.
+"Want to see me?" he asked.
+
+Fadeaway noticed that Corliss was unarmed, and he twisted the
+circumstance to suit a false interpretation of the fact.  "Playin'
+safe!" he sneered.
+
+Corliss flushed and the veins swelled on his neck, but he kept silent.
+He looked the cowboy in the eye and was met by a gaze as steady as his
+own; an aggressive and insolent gaze that had for its backing sheer
+physical courage and nothing more.  It became a battle of mental
+endurance and Corliss eventually won.
+
+After the lapse of several seconds, the cowboy spoke to his horse.
+"Come on, Doc!  The son-of-a----- is loco."
+
+Corliss heard, but held his peace.  He stood watching the cowboy until
+the latter was out on the road.  He noticed that he took the northern
+branch, toward Antelope.  Then the rancher entered the house, picked up
+his hat, buckled on his gun, and hastened to the corral.  He saddled
+Chinook and took the trail to the Loring rancho.
+
+He rode slowly, trying to arrive at the best method of presenting his
+side of the sheep-killing to Loring.  He hoped that Eleanor Loring
+would not be present during the interview with her father.  He was
+disappointed, for she came from the wide veranda as he rode up and
+greeted him.
+
+"Won't you come in?" she asked.
+
+"I guess not.  I'd like to see your father."
+
+She knew that her father had forbidden Corliss the house, and, indeed,
+the premises.  She wondered what urgency brought him to the rancho.
+"I'll call him, then."
+
+Corliss answered the grave questioning in her eyes briefly.  "The
+sheep," he said.
+
+"Oh!"  She turned and stepped to the veranda.  "Dad, John is here."
+
+David Loring came to the doorway and stood blinking at Corliss.  He did
+not speak.
+
+"Mr. Loring, one of my men set Chance on a band of your sheep.  My
+foreman tells me that Chance killed a lamb.  I want to pay for it."
+
+Loring had expected something of the kind.  "Mighty proud of it, I
+reckon?"
+
+"No, I'm not proud of it.  I apologize--for the Concho."
+
+"You say it easy."
+
+"No, it isn't easy to say--to you.  I'll pay the damage.  How much?"
+
+"Your dog, eh?  Well, if you'll shoot the dam' dog the lamb won't cost
+you a cent."
+
+"No, I won't shoot the dog.  He was put up to it.  I fired the man that
+set him on to the sheep."
+
+"That's your business.  But that don't square you with me."
+
+"I'll settle, if you'll fix the price," said Corliss.
+
+"You will, eh?  Then, mebby you'd think you was square with ole man
+Loring and come foolin' around here like that tramp brother of yours.
+Fine doin's in Antelope, from what I hear."
+
+"Dad!" exclaimed the girl, stepping to her father.  "Dad!"
+
+"You go in the house, Nellie!  We'll settle this."
+
+Corliss dismounted and strode up to Loring.  "If you weren't an old man
+I'd give you the licking of your life!  I've offered to settle with you
+and I've apologized.  You don't belong in a white man's country."
+
+"I got a pup that barks jest like that--and he's afraid of his own
+bark," said Loring.
+
+"Have it your way.  I'm through."  And Corliss stepped to his horse.
+
+"Well, I ain't!" cried Loring.  "I'm jest startin' in!  You better
+crawl your cayuse and eat the wind for home, Mr. Concho Jack!  And
+lemme tell you this: they's twenty thousand head of my sheep goin' to
+cross the Concho, and the first puncher that runs any of my sheep is
+goin' to finish in smoke!"
+
+"All right, Loring.  Glad you put me on to your scheme.  I don't want
+trouble with you, but if you're set on having trouble, you can find it."
+
+The old man straightened and shook his fist at the rancher.  "Fust time
+you ever talked like a man in your life.  Nex' thing is to see if you
+got sand enough to back it up.  There's the gate."
+
+Corliss mounted and wheeled his horse.  The girl, who stood beside her
+father, started forward as though to speak to the rancher.  Loring
+seized her arm.  Her face flamed and she turned on her father.  "Dad!
+Let me go!"
+
+He shrunk beneath her steady gaze.  He released her arm and she stepped
+up to Corliss.  "I'm sorry, John," she said, and offered her hand.
+
+"You heard it all, Nell.  I'd do anything to save you all this, if I
+could."
+
+"Anything?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Well, try and get Will--to--stop drinking.  He--I heard all about it.
+I can't do anything to help.  You ought to look after him.  He's your
+brother.  He's telling folks in Antelope that you refused to help him.
+Is that so?"
+
+"I refused to give him two hundred dollars to blow in if that's what
+you mean."
+
+"Did you quarrel with Will?"
+
+"No.  I asked him to come home.  I knew he wouldn't."
+
+"Yes.  And I think I know how you went at it.  I wish I could talk to
+him."
+
+"I wish you would.  You can do more with him than anybody."
+
+Loring strode toward Corliss.  The girl turned to her father.  He
+raised his arm and pointed toward the road.  "You git!" he said.  She
+reached up and patted his grizzled cheek.  Then she clung to him,
+sobbing.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+AT "THE LAST CHANCE"
+
+The afternoon following the day of his discharge from the Concho,
+Fadeaway rode into Antelope, tied his pony to the hitching-rail in
+front of "The Last Chance," and entered the saloon.  Several men loafed
+at the bar.  The cowboy, known as "a good spender when flush," was made
+welcome.  He said nothing about being out of employment, craftily
+anticipating the possibility of having to ask for credit later, as he
+had but a half-month's pay with him.  He was discussing the probability
+of early rains with a companion when Will Corliss entered the place.
+
+Fadeaway greeted him with loud, counterfeit heartiness, and they drank
+together.  Their talk centered on the Concho.  Gradually they drew away
+from the group at the bar.  Finally Corliss mentioned his brother.
+Fadeaway at once became taciturn.
+
+Corliss noticed this and questioned the puncher.  "Had a row with
+Jack?" he asked.
+
+"Between you and me, I did.  He fired me, couple of days ago."
+
+"Full?"
+
+"Nope.  Chance killed one of Loring's sheep.  John hung it onto me,
+seein' Chance was with me.  Guess John's gettin' religion."
+
+Corliss laughed, and his lips twisted to a sneer.  "Guess he is.  I
+tried to touch him for two hundred of my own money and he turned me
+down.  Maybe I like it."
+
+"Turned you down, eh!  That's what I call nerve!  And you been away
+three year and more.  Reckon, by the way the Concho is makin' good, you
+got more'n two hundred comin'.  She's half yours, ain't she?"
+
+"Yes.  And I'm going to get my share.  He told me I could have a
+job--that he was short-handed.  What do you think of that!  And I own
+half the Concho!  I guess I'd like to ride range with a lot of--well,
+you understand, Fade.  I never liked the Concho and I never will.
+Let's have another.  No.  This is on me."
+
+Again they drank and Corliss became more talkative.  He posed as one
+wronged by society in general and his brother especially.
+
+As his talk grew louder, Fadeaway cautioned him.  "Easy, Billy.  No use
+advertisin'.  Come on over here."  And Fadeaway gestured toward one of
+the tables in the rear of the room.
+
+Corliss was about to retort to the other's apparently good-natured
+interference with his right to free speech, when he caught Fadeaway's
+glance.  "Well?" he exclaimed.
+
+The cowboy evidently had something to say in confidence.  Corliss
+followed him to one of the tables.
+
+"It's this way," began the cowboy.  "You're sore at Jack.  Now Jack's
+got friends here and it won't help you any to let 'em know you're sore
+at him.  I ain't feelin' like kissin' him myself--right now.  But I
+ain't advertisin' it.  What you want to do is--"
+
+"What's that got to do with me?" interrupted Corliss.
+
+Fadeaway laughed.  "Nothin'--if you like.  Only there's been doin's
+since you lit out."  And he paused to let the inference sink in.
+
+"You mean--?"
+
+"Look here, Billy.  I been your friend ever since you was a kid.  And
+seein' you're kind of out of luck makes me sore--when I think what's
+yours by rights.  Mebby I'm ridin' over the line some to say it, but
+from what I seen since you been gone, Jack ain't goin' to cry any if
+you never come back.  Old man Loring ain't goin' to live more'n a
+thousand years.  Mebby Jack don't jest love him--but Jack ain't been
+losin' any time since you been gone."
+
+Corliss flushed.  "I suppose I don't know that!  But he hasn't seen the
+last of me yet."
+
+"If I had what's comin' to you, you bet I wouldn't work on no
+cattle-ranch, either.  I'd sure hire a law-shark and find out where I
+got off."
+
+Fadeaway's suggestion had its intended effect.  The younger man knew
+that an appeal to the law would be futile so long as he chose to ignore
+that clause in the will which covered the contingency he was
+illustrating by his conduct.  Fadeaway again cautioned him as he became
+loud in his invective against his brother.  The cowboy, while posing as
+friend and adviser, was in reality working out a subtle plan of his
+own, a plan of which Corliss had not the slightest inkling.
+
+"And the Concho's makin' good," said Fadeaway, helping himself to a
+drink.  He shoved the bottle toward Corliss.  "Take a little
+'Forget-it,' Billy.  That's her!  Here's to what's yours!"  They drank
+together.  The cowboy rolled a cigarette, tilted back his chair, and
+puffed thoughtfully.  "Yes, she's makin' good.  Why, Bud is gettin' a
+hundred and twenty-five, now.  Old Hi Wingle's drawin' down
+eighty--Jack's payin' the best wages in this country.  Must of cleaned
+up four or five thousand last year.  And here you're settin', broke."
+
+"Well, you needn't rub it in," said Corliss, frowning.
+
+Fadeaway grinned.  "I ain't, Billy.  I'm out of a job myself: and
+nothin' comin'--like you."
+
+Corliss felt that there was something in his companion's easy drift
+that had not as yet come to the surface.  Fadeaway's hard-lined face
+was unreadable.  The cowboy saw a question in the other's eyes and
+cleverly ignored it.  Since meeting the brother he had arrived at a
+plan to revenge himself on John Corliss and he intended that the
+brother should take the initiative.
+
+He got up and proffered his hand.  "So long, Billy.  If you ever need a
+friend, you know where to find him."
+
+"Hold on, Fade.  What's your rush?"
+
+"Got to see a fella.  Mebby I'll drop in later."
+
+Corliss rose.
+
+Fadeaway leaned across the table.  "I'm broke, and you're broke.  The
+Concho pays off Monday, next week.  The boys got three months
+comin'--close to eighteen hundred--and gold."
+
+"Gold?  Thought John paid by check?"
+
+"He's tryin' to keep the boys from cashin' in, here.  Things are goin'
+to be lively between Loring and the Concho before long.  Jack needs all
+the hands he's got."
+
+"But I don't see what that's got to do with it, Fade."
+
+"Nothing 'ceptin' I'm game to stand by a pal--any time."
+
+"You mean--?"
+
+"Jest a josh, Billy.  I was only thinkin' what _could_ be pulled off by
+a couple of wise ones.  So-long!"
+
+And the cowboy departed wondering just how far his covert suggestion
+had carried with Will Corliss.  As for Will Corliss, Fadeaway cared
+nothing whatever.  Nor did he intend to risk getting caught with a
+share of the money in his possession, provided his plan was carried to
+a conclusion.  He anticipated that John Corliss would be away from the
+ranch frequently, owing to the threatened encroachment of Loring's
+sheep on the west side of the Concho River.  Tony, the Mexican, would
+be left in charge of the ranch.  Will Corliss knew the combination of
+the safe--of that Fadeaway was pretty certain.  Should they get the
+money, people in the valley would most naturally suspect the brother.
+And Fadeaway reasoned that John Corliss would take no steps to recover
+the money should suspicion point to his brother having stolen it.
+Meanwhile he would wait.
+
+
+Shortly after Fadeaway had gone out, Will Corliss got up and sauntered
+to the street.  He gazed up and down the straggling length of Antelope
+and cursed.  Then he walked across to the sheriff's office.
+
+The sheriff motioned him to a chair, which he declined.  "Better sit
+down, Billy.  I want to talk to you."
+
+"Haven't got time," said Corliss.  "You know what I came for."
+
+"That's just what I want to talk about.  See here, Billy, you've been
+hitting it up pretty steady this week.  Here's the prospect.  John told
+me to hand you five a day for a week.  You got clothes, grub, and a
+place to sleep and all paid for.  You could go out to the ranch if you
+wanted to.  The week is up and you're goin' it just the same.  If you
+want any more money you'll have to see John.  I give you all he left
+with me."
+
+"By God, that's the limit!" exclaimed Corliss.
+
+"I guess it is, Billy.  Have a cigar?"
+
+Corliss flung out of the office and tramped across to the saloon.  He
+called for whiskey and, seating himself at one of the tables, drank
+steadily.  Fadeaway wasn't such a fool, after all.  But robbery!  Was
+it robbery?  Eighteen hundred dollars would mean San Francisco . . .
+Corliss closed his eyes.  Out of the red mist of remembrance a girl's
+face appeared.  The heavy-lidded eyes and vivid lips smiled.  Then
+other faces, and the sound of music and laughter.  He nodded to them
+and raised his glass. . . .  As the raw whiskey touched his lips the
+red mist swirled away.  The dingy interior of the saloon, the booted
+and belted riders, the grimy floor littered with cigarette-ends, the
+hanging oil-lamp with its blackened chimney, flashed up and spread
+before him like the speeding film of a picture, stationary upon the
+screen of his vision, yet trembling toward a change of scene.  A blur
+appeared in the doorway.  In the nightmare of his intoxication he
+welcomed the change.  Why didn't some one say something or do
+something?  And the figure that had appeared, why should it pause and
+speak to one of the men at the bar, and not come at once to him.  They
+were laughing.  He grew silently furious.  Why should they laugh and
+talk and keep him waiting?  He knew who had come in.  Of course he
+knew!  Did Fadeaway think to hide himself behind the man at the bar?
+Then Fadeaway should not wear chaps with silver conchas that glittered
+and gleamed as he shifted his leg and turned his back.  "Said he was my
+friend," mumbled Corliss.  "My friend!  Huh!"  Was it a friend that
+would leave him sitting there, alone?
+
+He rose and lurched to the bar.  Some one steadied him as he swayed.
+He stiffened and struck the man in the face.  He felt himself jerked
+backward and the shock cleared his vision.  Opposite him two men held
+Fadeaway, whose mouth was bleeding.  The puncher was struggling to get
+at his gun.
+
+Corliss laughed.  "Got you that time, you thief!"
+
+"He's crazy drunk," said one of the men.  "Don't get het up, Fade.  He
+ain't packin' a gun."
+
+Fadeaway cursed and wiped the blood from his mouth.  He was playing his
+part well.  Accident had helped him.  To all intents and purposes they
+were open enemies.
+
+Still, he was afraid Corliss would talk, so he laughed and extended his
+hand.  "Shake, Billy.  I guess you didn't know what you were doin'.  I
+was tryin' to keep you from fallin'."
+
+Corliss stared at the other with unwinking eyes.
+
+Fadeaway laughed and turned toward the bar.  "Ought to hand him one,
+but he's all in now, I reckon.  That's what a fella gets for mixin' up
+with kids.  Set 'em up, Joe."
+
+Left to himself Corliss stared about stupidly.  Then he started for the
+doorway.
+
+As he passed Fadeaway, the latter turned and seized his arm.  "Come on
+up and forget it, Billy.  You and me's friends, ain't we?"
+
+The cowboy, by sheer force of his personality, dominated the now
+repentant Corliss, whose stubbornness had given way to tearful
+retraction and reiterated apology.  Of course they were friends!
+
+They drank and Fadeaway noticed the other's increasing pallor.  "Jest
+about one more and he'll take a sleep," soliloquized the cowboy.  "In
+the mornin' 's when I ketch him, raw, sore, and ready for anything."
+
+One of the cowboys helped Corliss to his room at the Palace.  Later
+Fadeaway entered the hotel, asked for a room, and clumped upstairs.  He
+rose early and knocked at Corliss's door, then entered without waiting
+for a response.
+
+He wakened Corliss, who sat up and stared at him stupidly.  "Mornin',
+Billy.  How's the head?"
+
+"I don't know yet.  Got any cash, Fade?  I'm broke."
+
+"Sure.  What you want?"
+
+Corliss made a gesture, at which the other laughed.  "All right,
+pardner.  I'll fan it for the medicine."
+
+When he returned to the room, Corliss was up and dressed.  Contrary to
+Fadeaway's expectations, the other was apparently himself, although a
+little too bright and active to be normal.
+
+"Guess I got noisy last night," said Corliss, glancing at Fadeaway's
+swollen lip.
+
+"Forget it!  Have some of this.  Then I got to fan it."
+
+"Where are you going?"
+
+"Me?  Over to the Blue.  Got a job waitin' for me."
+
+Corliss's fingers worked nervously.  "When did you say the Concho paid
+off?" he queried, avoiding the other's eye.
+
+Fadeaway's face expressed surprise.  "The Concho?  Why, next Monday.
+Why?"
+
+"Oh--nothing.  I was just wondering . . ."
+
+"Want to send any word to Jack?" asked the cowboy.
+
+"No, I don't.  Thanks, just the same, Fade."
+
+"Sure!  Well, I guess I'll be goin'."
+
+"Wait a minute.  Don't be in a rush.  I was thinking . . ."
+
+Fadeaway strode to the window and stood looking out on the street.  His
+apparent indifference was effective.
+
+"Say, Fade, do you think we could--could get away with it?"
+
+"With what?" exclaimed the cowboy, turning.
+
+"Oh, you know!  What you said yesterday."
+
+"Guess I said a whole lot yesterday that I forgot this mornin'.  I get
+to joshin' when I'm drinkin' bug-juice.  What you gettin' at?"
+
+"The money--at the Concho."
+
+"Oh, that!  Why, Billy, I was jest stringin' you!  Supposin' somebody
+was to make a try for it; there's Chance like to be prowlin' around and
+the safe ain't standin' open nights.  Besides, Jack sleeps next to the
+office.  That was a josh."
+
+"Well, I could handle Chance," said Corliss.  "And I know the
+combination to the safe, if it hasn't been changed.  You said Jack was
+likely to be away nights, now."
+
+Fadeaway shook his head.  "You're dreamin', Bill.  'Sides, I wouldn't
+touch a job like that for less'n five hundred."
+
+"Would you--for five hundred?"
+
+"I dunno.  Depends on who I was ridin' with."
+
+"Well, I'll divvy up--give you five hundred if you'll come in on it."
+
+Again Fadeaway shook his head.  "It's too risky, Billy.  'Course you
+mean all right--but I reckon you ain't got nerve enough to put her
+through."
+
+"I haven't!" flashed Corliss.  "Try me!"
+
+"And make a get-away," continued the cowboy.  "I wouldn't want to see
+you pinched."
+
+"I'll take a chance, if you will," said Corliss, now assuming, as
+Fadeaway had intended, the rôle of leader in the proposed robbery.
+
+"How you expect to get clear--when they find it out?"
+
+"I could get old man Soper to hide me out till I could get to Sagetown.
+He'll do anything for money.  I could be on the Limited before the news
+would get to Antelope."
+
+"And if you got pinched, first thing you'd sing out 'Fadeaway,' and
+then me for over the road, eh?"
+
+"Honest, Fade.  I'll swear that I won't give you away, even if I get
+caught.  Here's my hand on it."
+
+"Give me nine hundred and I'll go you," said Fadeaway, shaking hands
+with his companion.
+
+Corliss hesitated.  Was the risk worth but half the money involved?
+"Five's a whole lot, Fade."
+
+"Well, seein' you're goin' to do the gettin' at it, why, mebby I'd risk
+it for five hundred.  I dunno."
+
+"You said you'd stand by a pal, Fade.  Now's your chance."
+
+"All right.  See here, Bill.  You cut out the booze all you can to-day.
+Foot it out to the Beaver Dam to-night and I'll have a hoss for you.
+We can ride up the old caņon trail.  Nobody takes her nowadays, so
+we'll be under cover till we hit the ford.  We can camp there back in
+the brush and tackle her next evenin'.  So-long."
+
+Fadeaway was downstairs and out on the street before Corliss realized
+that he had committed himself to a desperate and dangerous undertaking.
+He recalled the expression in Fadeaway's eyes when they had shaken
+hands.  Unquestionably the cowboy meant business.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+SUNDOWN'S FRIEND
+
+Bud Shoop was illustrating, with quaint and humorous gestures and
+adjectives, one of his early experiences as Ranger on the Apache
+Reservation.  The men, grouped around the night-fire, smoked and helped
+the tale along with reminiscent suggestions and ejaculations of
+interest and curiosity.  In the midst of a vivid account of the
+juxtaposition of a telephone battery and a curious yet unsuspicious
+Apache, Shoop paused in the recital and gazed out across the mesa.
+"It's the boss," he said, getting to his feet.  "Wonder what's up?"
+
+Corliss rode into camp, swung from the saddle, and called to Shoop.
+The men gazed at each other, nodded, and the words "Loring" and
+"sheep," punctuated their mutterings.
+
+Shoop and Corliss talked together.  Then the foreman called to Hi
+Wingle, asking him how the "chuck" was holding out.
+
+"Runnin' short on flour and beans, Bud.  Figured on makin' the Concho
+to-morrow."
+
+Corliss and his foreman came to the fire.  "Boss says we're goin' to
+bush here the rest of this week," and Corliss nodded.
+
+"I'm expecting company on the west side," explained Corliss,
+
+The men gazed at each other knowingly.
+
+"All right," said Wingle.  "Four sacks of flour and a sack of
+frijoles'll see us through.  Got enough other stuff."
+
+"Send some one in for it," ordered Corliss.  "I'm going to stay with
+the outfit, from now on."
+
+The men cheered.  That was the kind of a boss to work for!  No settin'
+back and lettin' the men do the fightin'!  Some style to Jack Corliss!
+All of which was subtly expressed in their applause, although unspoken.
+
+"To see that you boys don't get into mischief," continued Corliss,
+smiling.
+
+"Which means keepin' other folks out of mischief, eh, patron?" said a
+cow-puncher.
+
+At the word "patron" the men laughed.  "They're talkin' of turnin' this
+outfit into a sheep-camp," remarked another.  "Ba-a-ah!" And again they
+laughed.
+
+Shoop motioned to Sundown who rose from beside the fire.  "You can
+saddle up, Sun."
+
+Sundown caught up his horse and stood waiting while one of the men
+saddled two pack-animals.  "Tony has the keys.  He'll pack the stuff
+for you," said Corliss.  "Keep jogging and you ought to be back here by
+sunup."
+
+The assistant cook mounted and took the lead-rope of the pack-horses.
+He was not altogether pleased with the prospect of an all-night ride,
+but he knew that he had been chosen as the one whose services could
+most easily be dispensed with at the camp.  Silently he rode away, the
+empty kyacks clattering as the pack-horses trotted unwillingly behind
+him.  Too busy with the unaccustomed lead-rope to roll cigarettes, he
+whistled, and, in turn, recited verse to keep up his spirits.
+
+About midnight he discerned the outline of the low ranch-buildings and
+urged his horse to a faster gait.  As he passed a clump of cottonwoods,
+his horse snorted and shied.  Sundown reined him in and leaned peering
+ahead.  The pack-animals tugged back on the rope.  Finally he coaxed
+them past the cottonwoods and up to the gate.  It was open, an unusual
+circumstance which did not escape his notice.  He drifted through the
+shadows toward the corral, where he tied the horses.  Then he stepped
+to the bunk-house, found a lantern and lighted it.  He hallooed.  There
+was no response.  He stalked across to the ranch-house.  He found the
+door unlocked.  "Hi!  Tony!" he called.  No one answered.  He pushed
+the door open and entered.  Holding the lantern above his head he
+peered around the room.
+
+In the dim light of the lantern vague outlines took shape.  He noticed
+that the small safe in the corner was open.  He became alarmed and
+again called.  He heard a slight movement behind him and turned to see
+the door close.  From behind stepped a figure, a slender figure that
+seemed unreal, yet familiar.  With a cry of surprise he jumped back and
+stood facing his old friend and companion of the road, Will Corliss.
+
+"Billy!" he ejaculated, backing away and staring.
+
+"Yes, it's Billy."  And Corliss extended his hand.
+
+"But--what, where--?"  Sundown hesitated and glanced at the safe.  His
+eyes widened and he lowered the lantern.  "Billy!" he said, ignoring
+the other's proffered hand, "what you doin' here?"
+
+Corliss assumed a nonchalant air.  "Shake, pal!  It's a long time since
+we been in a wreck, eh?"
+
+Sundown was silent, studying the other's hardened features.  "Billy!"
+he reiterated, "what you doin' here?"
+
+Corliss laughed nervously.  "What are you doing here?" he
+retorted,--"in the office of the Concho, at midnight?"
+
+"I was comin' to get flour and beans for the camp--" he began.
+
+Corliss interrupted him.  "Sounds good, that!  But they don't keep the
+grub here.  Guess you made a mistake."
+
+Sundown's face was expressionless.  "Guess you made the mistake, Billy.
+I thought you was--dead."
+
+"Not on your tin-type, Sun."
+
+"I never thought you was crooked, Billy."
+
+"Crooked!" flashed Corliss.  "Say, you--you forget it.  I'm here to get
+what's coming to me.  Jack turned me down, so I'm going to take what's
+mine."
+
+"Mebby it's yours, but you ain't gettin' it right," said Sundown.
+"I--I--never thought you was--"
+
+"Oh, cut that out!  You didn't used to be so dam' particular."
+
+"I never swiped a cent in me life, Billy."
+
+"Well, forget it.  I'm in a hurry.  You go ahead and get the chuck.
+Here are the keys to the store-room--and beat it.  Just forget that you
+saw me; that's all."
+
+Sundown shook his head.  "I ain't forgettin' that easy, Billy.  'Sides,
+I'm workin' for the Concho, now.  They're treatin' me fine--and I
+reckon I got to be square."
+
+"You mean you're going to squeal--going back on your old pal, eh?"
+
+Sundown's face expressed conflicting emotions.  He straightened his
+lean shoulders.  "I tell you, Billy; if you beat it now, they won't be
+nothin' to squeal about."
+
+"I'm going to."  And Corliss stepped toward the safe.  "Just hold that
+light this way a minute."
+
+Sundown complied, and Corliss thought that the other had overcome his
+scruples.  Corliss hastily drew a small canvas sack from the safe and
+stuffed it into his pocket.  Sundown backed toward the door.
+
+Corliss got to his feet.  "Well, so-long, Sun.  Guess I'll light out."
+
+"Not with that," said Sundown.  "I ain't no preacher, but I ain't goin'
+to see you go straight to hell and me do nothin'.  Mebby some of that
+dough is yourn.  I dunno.  But somebody's goin' to get pinched for
+takin' it.  Bein' a Bo, it'll be me."
+
+"So that's what's worrying you, eh?  Scared you'll get sent over for
+this.  Well, you won't.  You haven't got anything on you."
+
+"'T ain't that, Billy.  It's you."
+
+Corliss laughed.  "You're getting religion, too.  Well, I never thought
+you'd go back on me."
+
+"I ain't.  I was always your friend, Billy."
+
+Corliss hesitated.  The door behind Sundown moved ever so little.
+Corliss's eyes held Sundown with unwinking gaze.  Slowly the door swung
+open.  Sundown felt rather than heard a presence behind him.  Before he
+could turn, something crashed down on his head.  The face of his old
+friend, intense, hard, desperate, was the last thing imaged upon his
+mind as the room swung round and he dropped limply to the floor.
+
+"Just in time," said Fadeaway, bending over the prostrate figure.  "Get
+a move, Bill.  I followed him from the cottonwoods and heard his talk.
+I was waitin' to get him when he come out, but I seen what he was up to
+and I fixed him."
+
+Corliss backed against the wall, trembling and white.  "Is he--did
+you--?"
+
+Fadeaway grinned.  "No, just chloroformed him.  Get a move, Bill.  No
+tellin' who'll come moseyin' along.  Got the stuff?"
+
+Corliss nodded.
+
+Fadeaway blew out the light.  "Come on, Bill.  She worked slick."
+
+"But--he knows me," said Corliss.  "He'll squeal."
+
+"And I reckon Jack'll believe him.  Why, it's easy, Bill.  They find
+the Bo on the job and the money gone.  Who did it?  Ask me."
+
+At the cottonwoods they mounted.  "Now, you fan it for Soper's," said
+Fadeaway.  "I'll keep on for the Blue.  To-morrow evenin' I'll ride
+over and get my divvy."
+
+Corliss hesitated.
+
+"You better travel," said Fadeaway, reining his horse around.
+"So-long."
+
+Chance, a prisoner in the stable, whined and gnawed at the rope with
+which Corliss had tied him.  The rope was hard-twisted and tough.
+Finally the last strand gave way.  The dog leaped through the doorway
+and ran sniffing around the enclosure.  He found Sundown's trail and
+followed it to the ranch-house.  At the threshold the dog stopped.  His
+neck bristled and he crooked one foreleg.  Slowly he stalked to the
+prone figure on the floor.  He sniffed at Sundown's hands and pawed at
+him.  Slowly Sundown's eyes opened.  He tried to rise and sank back
+groaning.  Chance frisked around him playfully coaxing.  Finally
+Sundown managed to sit up.  With pain-heavy eyes he gazed around the
+room.  Slowly he got to his feet and staggered to the doorway.  He
+leaned against the lintel and breathed deeply of the fresh morning air.
+The clear cold tang of the storm that had passed, lingered, giving a
+keen edge to the morning.  "We're sure in wrong," he muttered, gazing
+at Chance, who stood watching him with head cocked and eyes eager for
+something to happen--preferably action.  Sundown studied the dog dully.
+"Say, Chance," he said finally, "do you think you could take a little
+word to the camp?  I heard of dogs doin' such things.  Mebby you could.
+Somebody's got to do 'somethin' and I can't."  Painfully he stooped and
+pointed toward the south.  "Go tell the boss!" he commanded.  Chance
+whined.  "No, that way.  The camp!"
+
+Chance nosed across the yard toward the gate.  Then he stopped and
+looked back.  Sundown encouraged him by waving his arm toward the
+south.  "Go ahead, Chance.  The boss wants you."
+
+Chance trotted toward the cottonwood, nosed among them, and finally
+took Sundown's trail to the knoll.
+
+Sundown crept to the bunk-house, wondering what had become of the
+Mexican, Tony.  He determined to search for him, but became dizzy, and,
+crawling to a bunk, lay back groaning as the dull pain in his head
+leaped intermittently to blinding stabs of agony.  It seemed ages
+before he heard the quick staccato of hoofs on the road.  He raised
+himself on his elbow as Shoop and Corliss rode up on their
+mud-spattered and steaming ponies.  Sundown called as they dismounted
+at the corral.
+
+Corliss and Shoop stamped in, breathing hard.  "What's up?" questioned
+Corliss.
+
+"They--they got the money," muttered Sundown, pointing toward the
+office.
+
+"Who?  See what's up, Bud."
+
+Shoop swung out and across the enclosure.
+
+Corliss stooped over Sundown.  "What's wrong, Sun?  Why, Great God,
+you're hurt!"
+
+The rancher brought water and bathed Sundown's head.  "Who did it?" he
+questioned.
+
+"I dunno, boss.  I come and caught 'em at it.  Two of 'em, I guess.  I
+was tryin' to stop one fella from takin' it when the other slips me one
+on the head, and I takes a sleep.  I was lookin' for Tony in the
+office."
+
+"Where's Tony?"
+
+"I dunno.  I was goin' to see--but--my head . . ."
+
+"That's all right.  You take it easy as you can.  I'll find out."
+
+And Corliss left the room.  With Chance he explored the outbuildings
+and finally discovered the Mexican bound and gagged in the stable.  He
+released him, but could make nothing of his answers save that some one
+had come at night, tied his hands and feet, and carried him from the
+ranch-house.
+
+Corliss returned to Sundown.  In the bunkhouse he encountered Shoop.
+
+"They robbed the safe," said Shoop, and he spoke with a strange
+quietness.  "Better come and take a look, Jack."
+
+"Didn't blow her," said Shoop, pointing toward the corner as they
+entered the office.
+
+Corliss knelt and examined the safe.  "The man that did it knew the
+combination," he said.  "There isn't a mark on the door."
+
+He rose, and Shoop met his eye.  Corliss shook his head.  "I don't
+know," he said, as if in answer to a silent questioning.  Then he told
+Shoop to look for tracks.
+
+"The rain's fixed the tracks," said Shoop, turning in the doorway.
+"But it ain't drowned out my guess on this proposition."
+
+"Well, keep guessing, Bud, till I talk to Sundown."  And Corliss walked
+slowly to the bunkhouse.  He sat on the edge of the bunk and laid his
+hand on Sundown's sleeve.  "Look here, Sun, if you know anything about
+this, just tell me.  The money's gone and you didn't get that cut on
+the head trying to take it.  I guess you're straight, all right, but I
+think you know something."
+
+Sundown blinked and set his jaw.
+
+Corliss observed and wisely forbore to threaten or command.  "Did you
+recognize either of the men?" he asked, presently.
+
+"No!" lied Sundown.  "Wasn't I hit in the back of me head?"
+
+Corliss smiled grimly.  "What were you doing when you got hit?"
+
+"Tryin' to stop the other guy--"
+
+"What did he look like?"
+
+"I dunno.  Me lantern was on the floor.  He was a hefty guy, bigger 'n
+you.  Mebby six feet and pow'ful built.  Had whiskers so's I couldn't
+pipe his face.  Big puncher hat down over his eyes and a handkerchief
+tied like a mask.  I was scared of him, you bet!"
+
+Corliss slowly drew a sack of tobacco and papers from his pocket.  He
+rolled a cigarette and puffed reflectively.  Then he laughed.  "I'm out
+about eighteen hundred.  That's the first thing.  Next, you're used up
+pretty bad and we're short-handed.  Then, we're losing time trying to
+track the thieves.  But I'm not riled up a little bit.  Don't think I'm
+mad at you.  I'm mighty glad you didn't get put out in this deal.
+That's where I stand.  I want to find out who took the money.  I don't
+say that I'll lift a rein to follow them.  Depends on who did it."
+
+Sundown winced, and gazed up helplessly.  He felt oppressed by the
+broad-chested figure near him.  He felt that he could not get away
+from--what?  Not Corliss, for Corliss was undoubtedly friendly.  In a
+flash he saw that he could not get away from the truth.  Yet he
+determined to shield his old pal of the road.  "You're sure givin' me
+the third degree," he said with an attempt at humor.  "I reckon I got
+to come through.  Boss, are you believin' I didn't take the cash?"
+
+"Sure I am!  But that isn't enough.  Are you working for the Concho,
+Sun, or for some other outfit?"
+
+"The Concho," muttered Sundown stubbornly.
+
+"And I'm the Concho.  You're working for me.  Listen.  I've got a yarn
+to spin.  The man that took the money--or one of them--was short, and
+slim, and clean-shaved, and he didn't wear a puncher hat.  You weren't
+scared of him because he was a coward.  You tried to get him to play
+square and he talked to you while the other man got you from behind.
+That's just a guess, but you furnished the meat for it."
+
+"Me hands are up," said Sundown.
+
+"All right.  I'm not going to get after Billy for this.  You lied to
+me, but you lied to save your pal.  Shake!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+THE STORM
+
+Will Corliss, riding through the timberlands toward the west, shivered
+as a drop of rain touched his hand.  He glanced up through the trees.
+The sky seemed clouded to the level of the pine-tops.  He spurred his
+horse as he again felt a spatter of rain.  Before him lay several miles
+of rugged trail leading to an open stretch across which he would again
+enter the timber on the edge of the hollow where Soper's cabin was
+concealed.  When Corliss had suggested Soper's place as a rendezvous,
+Fadeaway had laughed to himself, knowing that old man Soper had been
+driven from the country by a committee of irate ranchers.  The illicit
+sale of whiskey to the cowboys of the Concho Valley had been the cause
+of Soper's hurried evacuation.  The cabin had been burned to the
+ground.  Fadeaway knew that without Soper's assistance Corliss would be
+unable to get to the railroad--would be obliged either to return to the
+Concho or starve on the empty mesas.
+
+Corliss bent his head as the rain drove faster.  When he arrived at the
+edge of the mesa, the storm had increased to a steady dull roar of
+rushing rain.  He hesitated to face the open and reined up beneath a
+spruce.  He was drenched and shivered.  The fever of drink had died out
+leaving him unstrung and strangely fearful of the night.  His horse
+stood with lowered head, its storm-blown mane whipping in the wind like
+a wet cloth.  A branch riven from a giant pine crashed down behind him.
+Corliss jerked upright in the saddle, and the horse, obeying the
+accidental touch of the spurs, plodded out to the mesa with head held
+sideways.
+
+The rider's hands grew numb and he dropped the reins over the horn and
+shoved his hands in his pockets.  Unaccustomed to riding he grew weary
+and, despite the storm, he drowsed, to awaken with a start as gusts of
+wind swept against his face.  He raised his dripping hat and shook the
+water from it.  Then he crouched shivering in the saddle.  He cursed
+himself for a fool and longed for shelter and the warmth of a fire.
+Slowly a feeling of helplessness stole over him and he pictured himself
+returning to the Concho and asking forgiveness of his brother.  Yet he
+kept stubbornly on, glancing ahead from time to time until at last he
+saw the dim edge of the distant timber--a black line against the
+darkness.  He urged his horse to a trot, and was all but thrown as the
+animal suddenly avoided a prairie-dog hole.  The sweep of the storm was
+broken as he entered the farther timber.  Then came the muffled roll of
+thunder and an instant white flash.  The horse reared as a bolt struck
+a pine.  Came the ghastly whistle of flying splinters as the tree was
+shattered.  Corliss grabbed the saddle-horn as the horse bolted through
+the timberlands, working against the curb to reach the open.  Once more
+on the trail the animal quieted.  They topped a gentle rise.  Corliss
+breathed his relief.  Soper's cabin was in the hollow below them.
+
+Cautiously the horse worked sideways down the ridge, slipping and
+checking short as the loose stones slithered beneath his feet.  At the
+bottom of the hollow Corliss reined up and shouted.  The wind whipped
+his call to a thin shred of sound that was swept away in the roar of
+the storm.  Again he shouted.  As though in answer there came a burning
+flash of blue.  The dripping trees surrounding the hollow jumped into
+view to be blotted from sight as the succeeding crash of thunder
+diminished to far titanic echoes.  Where Soper's cabin had stood there
+was a wet, glistening heap of fallen logs and rafters, charred and
+twisted.  The lightning flash had revealed more to the rider than the
+desolation of the burned and abandoned homestead.  He saw with instant
+vividness the wrecked framework of his own plans.  He heard the echo of
+Fadeaway's sneering laugh in the fury of the wind.  He told himself
+that he had been duped and that he deserved it.  Lacking physical
+strength to carry him through to a place of tentative safety, he gave
+up, and credited his sudden regret to true repentance rather than to
+weakness.  He would return to the Concho, knowing that his brother
+would forgive him.  He wept as he thought of his attitude of the
+repentant and broken son returning in sorrow to atone for his sin and
+shame.  He magnified his wrongdoing to heroic proportions endeavoring
+to filch some sentimental comfort from the romantic.  He it was that
+needed the sympathy of the world and not his brother John; John was a
+plodder, a clod, good enough, but incapable of emotion, or the finer
+feelings.  And Eleanor Loring . . . she could have saved him from all
+this.  He had begun well; had written acceptable verse . . . then had
+come her refusal to marry him.  What a fool he had been through it all!
+The wind and rain chastised his emotional intoxication, and he turned
+shivering to look for shelter.  Dismounting, he crept beneath a low
+spruce and shivered beneath the scant covering of his saddle-blanket.
+To-morrow the sun would shine on a new world.  He would arise and
+conquer his temptation.  As he drifted to troubled sleep he knew, deep
+in his heart, that despite his heroics he would at that moment have
+given the little canvas sack of his brother's money for the
+obliterating warmth of intoxication.
+
+With the morning sun he rose and saddled.  About to mount, his
+stiffened muscles blundered.  He slipped and fell.  The horse, keen
+with hunger, jumped away from him and trotted down the trail.  He
+followed shouting.  His strength gave out and he gave up the chase,
+wondering where the horse would go.  Stumbling along the slippery
+trail, he cursed his clumsiness.  A chill sweat gathered on his face.
+His legs trembled and he was forced to rest frequently.  Crossing a
+stream, he stooped and drank.  Then he toiled on, eagerly scanning the
+hoof-prints in the rain-gutted trail.
+
+The sun was high when he arrived at the wagon-road above the Concho.
+Dazed and weak, he endeavored to determine which direction the horse
+had taken.  The heat of the sun oppressed him.  He became faint, and,
+crawling beneath the shade of a wayside fir, he rested, promising
+himself that he would, when the afternoon shadows drifted across the
+road, make his way to the Concho.  He had slept little more than an
+hour when the swift patter of hoofs wakened him.  As he got to his
+feet, a buckboard, drawn by a pair of pinto range-ponies, drew up.
+Corliss started back.  The Mexican driving the ponies turned toward the
+sweet-faced Spanish woman beside him as though questioning her
+pleasure.  She spoke in quick, low accents.  He cramped the wagon and
+she stepped to the road.  The Seņora Loring, albeit having knowledge of
+his recent return to Antelope, his drinking, and all the unsavory
+rumors connected with his return, greeted Corliss as a mother greets a
+wayward son.  She set all this knowledge aside and spoke to him with
+the placid wisdom of her years and nature.  Her gentle solicitude
+touched him.  She had been his foster-mother in those years that he and
+his brother had known no other fostering hand than that of old Hi
+Wingle, the cook, whose efforts to "raise" the Corliss boys were more
+largely faithful than discriminating.
+
+Seņora Loring knew at a glance that he was in trouble of some kind.
+She asked no questions, but held out her hands.
+
+Corliss, blind with tears, dropped to his knee: "Madre!  Madre!" he
+cried.
+
+She patted his head.  "You come with me.  Then perhaps you have to say
+to me that which now you do not say."
+
+He shook his head, but she paid no attention, leading the way to the
+buckboard.  He climbed beside the driver, then with an ejaculation of
+apology, leaped to the road and helped her in.
+
+"Where you would like to go?" she asked.  "The Concho?"
+
+Again he shook his head.  "I can't.  I--"
+
+She questioned his hesitation with her eyes.
+
+"I'll tell you when--when I feel better.  Madre, I'm sick."
+
+"I know," she said.
+
+Then, turning to the driver, she gestured down the wagon-trail.
+
+They drove through the morning woodlands, swung to the east, and
+crossed the ford.  The clustered adobes of the Loring homestead
+glimmered in the sun.  Corliss glanced across the river toward the
+Concho.  Again the Seņora Loring questioned him with a glance.
+
+He shook his head.  "Away--anywhere," he said, gesturing toward the
+horizon.
+
+"You come home with me," she said quietly.  "Nellie is not at the home
+to-day.  You rest, and then perhaps you go to the Concho."
+
+As they entered the gateway of the Loring rancho, Corliss made as
+though to dismount.  The Seņora Loring touched his arm.  He shrugged
+his shoulders; then gazed ahead at the peaceful habitation of the old
+sheep-herder.
+
+The Seņora told the driver to tie the team and wait.  Then she entered
+the house.  Corliss gazed about the familiar room while she made
+coffee.  Half starved, he ate ravenously the meal she prepared for him.
+Later, when she came and sat opposite, her plump hands folded in her
+lap, her whole attitude restful and assuring, he told her of the
+robbery, concealing nothing save the name of Fadeaway.
+
+Then he drew the canvas sack from his pocket.  "I thought I could go
+back and face it out, but now, I can't.  Will you--return it--and--tell
+John?"
+
+She nodded.  "Si!  If you wish it so, my son.  You would not do that as
+I would tell you--so I say nothing.  I can only--what you say--help,
+with my hands," and she gestured gracefully as though leading a child.
+"You have money to go away?"
+
+"No, madre."
+
+"Then I give you the money."  And the Seņora, ignoring his half-hearted
+protests, stepped to an adjoining room and returned.  "Here is this to
+help you go.  Some day you come back strong and like your father the
+big John Corliss.  Then I shall be much glad."
+
+"I'll pay it back.  I'll do anything--"
+
+But she silenced him, touching his lips with her fingers.  "No.  The
+promise to make is not so hard, but to keep . . .  Ah!  When you come
+back, then you promise; si?"
+
+Not a word of reproof, not a glance or a look of disapproval, yet
+Corliss knew that the Seņora's heart was heavy with sorrow for him.  He
+strode to the doorway.  Seņora Loring followed and called to the
+driver.  As Corliss shook hands with her, she kissed him.
+
+An anger against himself flushed his cheek.  "I don't know which road
+I'll take, madre,--after I leave here,--this country.  But I shall
+always remember . . .  And tell Nell . . . that . . ." he hesitated.
+
+The Seņora smiled and patted his arm.  "Si!  I understand."
+
+"And, madre, there is a man--vaquero, or cook, a big man, tall, that
+they call Sundown, who works for the Concho.  If you see him, please
+tell him--that I sent it back."  And he gestured toward the table
+whereon lay the little canvas sack of gold.  "Good-bye!"
+
+He stepped hurriedly from the veranda, climbed to the seat of the
+buckboard, and spoke to the driver.  For a long time the Seņora stood
+in the doorway watching the glint of the speeding ponies.  Then she
+went to her bedroom and knelt before the little crucifix.  Her prayer
+was, strangely enough, not for Will Corliss.  She prayed that the sweet
+Madonna would forgive her if she had done wrong.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+CHANCE--CONQUEROR
+
+Sundown's return to the camp occasioned some indirect questioning and
+not a little comment.  He told the story of his adventure at the Concho
+in detail up to the point of his conversation with Will Corliss.  Then
+he lapsed into generalities, exhibiting with some little pride the
+wound on his head as evidence of his attempt to prevent the robbery and
+incidentally as a reason for being unable to discourse further upon the
+subject.  His oft-repeated recital invariably concluded with, "I steps
+in and tries to stop the first guy when _Wham!_ round goes the room and
+I takes a sleep."
+
+The men seemed satisfied with Sundown's graphic account in the main.
+Hi Wingle, the cook, asked no questions, but did a great deal of
+thinking.  He was aware that Will Corliss had returned to the Concho,
+and also, through rumor, that Corliss and Fadeaway had been together in
+Antelope.  The fact that the robbers failed to get the money--so it was
+given out--left the drama unfinished, and as such it lacked sustained
+interest.  There would be no bandits to capture; no further excitement;
+so the talk eventually drifted to other subjects.
+
+The assistant cook's evident melancholy finally gave place to a happier
+mood as he realized that he had gained a modicum of respect in a camp
+where hitherto he had been more or less of a joke.  While he grieved
+over the events which led up to his newly attained prestige as a man of
+nerve, he was not a little proud of the prestige itself, and
+principally because he lacked the very quality of courage that he was
+now accredited with.  Perhaps the fact that he had "played square," as
+he saw it, was the true foundation of his attitude.
+
+He discharged his duties as assistant cook with a new and professional
+flourish that amused the riders.  When they rolled from their blankets
+in the crisp air of the morning, they were never kept waiting for their
+coffee, hot bread, and frijoles.  Moreover, he always had a small fire
+going, around which he arranged the tin plates, cups, knives and forks.
+This additional fire was acceptable, as the cooking was done on a large
+sheet-iron camp-stove, the immediate territory of which was sacred to
+Hi Wingle.  Wingle, who had been an old-timer when most of the Concho
+hands were learning the rudiments of the game, took himself and his
+present occupation seriously.  His stove was his altar, though burnt
+offerings were infrequent.  He guarded his culinary precincts with a
+watchful eye.  His attitude was somewhat akin to that of Cardinal
+Richelieu in the handkerchief scene, "Take but one step within these
+sacred bounds and on our head I'll lunch the cuss of Rum," or something
+to that effect.  He was short, ruddy, and bald, and his antithesis,
+Sundown, was a source of constant amazement to him.  Wingle had seen
+many tall men, but never such an elongated individual as his assistant.
+It became the habit of one or another of the boys to ask the cook the
+way to the distant Concho, usually after the evening meal, when they
+were loafing by the camp-fire.  Wingle would thereupon scratch his head
+and assume an air of intense concentration.  "Well," he would
+invariably remark, "you take the trail along Sundown's shadder there,
+and keep a-fannin' it smart for about three hours.  When you come to
+the end of the shadder, take the right fork of the river, and in
+another hour you'll strike the Concho.  That's the quickest way."  And
+this bit of attenuated humor never failed to produce an effect.
+
+
+One morning, about a week after Sundown's return to his duties as
+assistant, while Wingle was drying his hands, preparatory to reading a
+few pages of his favorite novel, Sundown ambled into camp with an
+armful of greasewood, dumped it near the wagon, and, straightening up,
+rolled a cigarette.
+
+Wingle, immersed in the novel, read for a while and then glanced up
+questioningly.
+
+Sundown shook his head.
+
+"Now this here story," said Wingle; "I read her forty-three times come
+next round-up, and blamed if I sabe her yet.  Now, take it where the
+perfesser--a slim gent with large round eye-glasses behind which
+twinkled a couple of deep-set studyus eyes--so the book says; now, take
+it where he talks about them Hopi graves over there in the valley--"
+
+"This here valley?" queried Sundown, immediately interested.
+
+"Sure!  Well, I can sabe all that.  I seen 'em."
+
+"Seen 'em?"
+
+"Sure!  Why Arizona's got more leavin's of history and dead Injuns and
+such, right on top of the ground, than any other State in the Union.
+Why, right over there in the caņon of the Concho there's a hull ruined
+Injun village--stones piled up in little circles, and what was huts and
+caves and the leavin's of a old irrigatin' ditch and busted ollas, and
+bones and arrow-heads and picture-writin' on the rocks--bears and
+eagles and mounting-lions and hosses--scratched right on the rocks.
+Them cliffs there is covered with it."
+
+"Them?" queried Sundown, pointing toward the caņon, "Do they charge
+anything to see it?"
+
+"Well, seein' they been dead about a thousand years, I reckon not."
+
+"A thousand years!  Huh!  I ain't scared of no Injuns a thousand years
+old.  How far is it to them picture-things?"
+
+"'Bout three mile.  You can take a hoss and mosey over if you like.
+Figure on gettin' back 'round noon."
+
+"Any snakes over there?"
+
+"Comf'table thick.  You might get a pretty good mess of 'em, if you was
+to take your time.  I never bother to look for 'em."
+
+Sundown gazed at his length of nether limb and sighed.
+
+"Snakes won't bother you none," said Wingle, reassuringly.  "They get
+tired, same as anybody, and they'd have to climb too fur to see if you
+was to home."
+
+Sundown rose and saddled a horse.  He mounted and rode slowly toward
+the rim of the distant caņon.  At the caņon's brink, he dismounted and
+led his horse down the trail, stopping frequently to gaze in wonderment
+at the painted cliffs and masses of red rock strewn along the slopes.
+High up on the perpendicular face of the caņon walls he saw many caves
+and wondered how they came to be there.  "Makes a fella feel like
+sayin' his prayers," he muttered.  "Wisht I knowed one."
+
+He drifted on down the trail, which wound around huge fragments of rock
+riven from the cliffs in prehistoric days.  He was awed by the
+immensity of the chasm and talked continuously to his horse which
+shuffled along behind paying careful attention to the footing.  Arrived
+at the stream the horse drank.  Sundown mounted and rode along the
+narrow level paralleling the river course.  The caņon widened, and
+before he realized it he was in a narrow valley carpeted with
+bunch-grass and dotted with solitary cypress and infrequent clumps of
+pine.  He paused to inspect a small mound of rock which was partially
+surrounded by a wall of neatly laid stone.  Within the semicircular
+wall was a hole in the ground--the entrance to a cave.  Farther along
+he came upon the ruins of a walled square, unmistakably of human
+construction.  He became interested, and, tying his horse to a
+scrub-cedar, began to dig among the loose stones covering the interior
+of the square.  He discovered a fragment of painted pottery--the
+segment of an olla, smooth, dark red, and decorated with a design in
+black.  He rubbed the earth from the fragment and polished it on his
+overalls.  He unearthed a larger fragment and found that it matched the
+other piece.  He was happy.  He forgot his surroundings, and scratched
+and dug in the ruin until he accumulated quite a little pile of shards,
+oddly marked and colored.  Eventually he gathered up his spoils and
+tied them in his handkerchief.
+
+Leaving his horse, he meandered down the valley until he came to
+another and larger cave.  "Wonder what's down there?" he soliloquized.
+"Mebby one of them Injuns.  Been there a thousand years waitin' for
+somethin' to turn up.  'Nough to make a fella tired, waitin' that
+long."  He wanted to explore the cave, but he was afraid.  Moreover,
+the interior was dark.  He pondered.  Finally his natural fondness for
+mild adventure overcame his fear.  "Got some matches!" he exclaimed,
+joyfully.  "Wonder if it's deep?  Guess I could put me legs in first,
+and if nothin' bites me legs, why, I could follow 'em down to bottom."
+He put his head in the hole.  "Hey!" he hallooed, "are you in there?"
+He rose to his feet.  "Nothin' doin'.  Well, here goes.  I sure want to
+see what's down there."
+
+In his excitement he overlooked the possibility of disturbing a torpid
+rattler.  He slid feet first into the cave, found that he could all but
+stand upright, and struck a match.
+
+
+The ancient Hopis buried their dead in a sitting posture on a woven
+grass mat, with an olla, and frequently a bone dagger, beside them.  In
+the clean, dry air of the uplands of Arizona the process of decay is
+slow.  Sundown, unaware of this, hardly anticipated that which
+confronted him as the match flamed blue and flared up, lighting the
+interior of the cave with instant brilliance.  About six feet from
+where he crouched was the dried and shriveled figure of a Hopi chief,
+propped against the wall of the cave.  Beside the figure stood the
+painted olla untarnished by age.  The dead Indian's head was bowed upon
+his breast, and his skeleton arms, parchment-skinned and rigid, were
+crossed upon his knees.
+
+Sundown scrambled for the circle of daylight above him.  "Gee Gosh!" he
+panted, as he got to his feet outside the cave.  "It was him!"  He
+clambered over the circle of stones and backed away, eyeing the
+entrance as though he expected to see the Hopi emerge at any moment.
+He crouched behind a boulder, his pulses racing.  He was keyed to a
+high tension of expectancy.  In fact, he was in a decidedly receptive
+mood for that which immediately happened.  He noticed that his horse, a
+hundred yards or so up the valley, was circling the cedar and pulling
+back on the reins.  He wondered what was the matter with him.  The
+horse was usually a well-behaved animal.  The explanation came rapidly.
+Sundown saw the horse back and tear loose from the cedar; saw him whirl
+and charge down the valley snorting.  "Guess he seen one, too!" said
+Sundown making no effort to check the frightened animal.  Almost
+immediately came the long-drawn bell of a dog following a hot scent.
+Sundown turned from watching his vanishing steed and saw a huge
+timber-wolf leap from a thicket.  Behind the wolf came Chance, neck
+outstretched, and flanks working at top speed.  The wolf dodged a
+boulder, flashing around it with no apparent loss of ground.  Chance
+rose over the boulder as though borne on the wind.  The wolf turned and
+snapped at him.  Sundown decided instantly that the sepulcher of the
+dead Hopi was preferable to the proximity of the live wolf, and he made
+for the cave.
+
+The wolf circled the wall of stones and also made for the cave.
+Sundown had arrived a little ahead of him.  The top of Sundown's head
+appeared for an instant; then vanished.  The wolf backed snarling
+against the wall as Chance leaped in.  When Sundown's head again
+appeared, the whirling mass of writhing fur and kicking legs had taken
+more definite shape.  Chance had fastened on the wolf's shoulder.  The
+wolf was slashing effectively at the dog's side.  Presently they lay
+down facing each other.  Chance licked a long gash in his foreleg.  The
+wolf snapped as he lay and a red slaver dripped from his fangs.  Not
+twelve feet away, Sundown gazed upon the scene with fear-wide eyes.
+"Go to it, Chance!" he quavered, and his encouragement was all but the
+dog's undoing, for he lost the wolf's gaze for an instant, barely
+turning in time to meet the vicious charge.  Sundown groaned as the
+wolf, with a slashing stroke, ripped the dog's neck from ear to
+shoulder.  The stones in the enclosure were spattered with red as they
+whirled, each trying to reach the throat of the other.  Suddenly Chance
+leaped up and over the wolf, lunging for his neck as he descended.  The
+wolf rolled from under and backed toward the cave.  "Hey!" yelled
+Sundown.  "You can't come in here!"
+
+Chance, weakened from loss of blood, lay watching the wolf as it
+crouched tensely.  Again the great gray shadow lunged and a bright
+streak sprung up on the dog's side.  "Gee Gosh!" whined Sundown; "he
+can't stand much more of that!"  Undoubtedly Chance knew it, for he
+straight-way gathered himself and leaped in, diving low for the wolf's
+fore leg.  As the wolf turned his shoulder, Chance again sprang over
+him and, descending, caught him just behind the ear, and held.  The
+wolf writhed and snarled.  Chance gripped in and in, with each savage
+shake of his head biting deeper.  In a mighty effort to free himself
+the wolf surged backward, dragging Chance around the enclosure.
+Sundown, rising from the cave's mouth, crouched before it.  "You got
+him!  You got him!" he cried.  "Once more, now!"
+
+The body of the wolf quivered and sagged, then stiffened as if for a
+last effort.  Chance held.  They were both lying on the stones now.
+Chance with fore feet braced against the wolf's chest.  Presently the
+dog gave a final shake, drew back, and lay panting.  From head to
+flanks he was soaked with blood.  The wolf was dead.
+
+Sundown stood up.  "Good boy, Chance!" he said.  The great, gaunt body
+of the dog raised itself on trembling legs, the pride of the conqueror
+lighting for a moment his dimming eyes.  "It's me, Chance!" said
+Sundown, stroking the dog's head.  Chance wagged his tail and reaching
+up his torn and bleeding muzzle licked Sundown's hand.  Then slowly he
+sank to the ground, breathed heavily, and rolled to his side.  Sundown
+knelt over him and unaccustomed tears ran down his lean cheeks and
+dripped on the clotted fur.  "You was some fighter, Chance, ole pal!
+Gee Gosh!  He's nothin' except cuts and slashes all over.  Gee Gosh!"
+He drew the dog's head to his lap and sat crooning weird, broken words
+and stroking the torn ears.  Suddenly he stopped and put his hand over
+the dog's heart.  Then he leaped to his feet and, dumping the fragments
+of pottery from his bandanna, tore it in strips and began bandaging the
+wounds.  The gash on Chance's neck still bled.  Sundown drew his knife
+and cut the sleeve from his shirt.  He ripped it open and bound the
+dog's neck.  Realizing that Chance was not dead, he became valiant.
+"We sure put up the great scrap, didn't we, pal?  We licked him!  But
+if he'd 'a' licked you . . ."  And Sundown gazed at the still form of
+the wolf and shuddered, not knowing that the wolf would have fled at
+sight of him had he been able to get away from Chance.
+
+
+Two hours later, Eleanor Loring, riding along the caņon stream, met a
+lean giant, one sleeve of his shirt gone, his hat missing, and his
+hands splotched with blood.  His eyes were wild, his face white and
+set.  He carried a great, shaggy dog in his arms.
+
+"Are you hurt?" she asked, swinging from her pony and coming to him.
+
+"Me?  No, lady.  But me pal here is hurt bad.  Jest breathin'.  Killed
+a wolf back there.  Mebby I can save him."
+
+"Why, it's Chance--of the Concho!"
+
+"Yes, lady.  What is left of him."
+
+"Do you work for the Concho?  Won't you take my horse?"
+
+"I'm assistant cook at the camp.  No, thanks, lady.  Ridin' might
+joggle him and start him to bleedin'.  I can carry him so he'll be
+easier-like."
+
+"But how did it happen?"
+
+"I dunno.  Chance chased the wolf and they went to it where I was
+explorin' one of them caves.  I guess I better be goin'."
+
+The girl reined her horse around and rode down the valley trail,
+pausing occasionally to watch the tall figure climbing the caņon with
+that shapeless burden in his arms.  "I wonder if any other man on the
+Concho would have done that?" she asked herself.  And Sundown, despite
+his more or less terrifying appearance, won her estimation for kindness
+at once.
+
+Slowly he climbed the caņon trail, resting at each level.  The dog hung
+a limp, dead weight in his arms.  Midway up the trail Sundown rested
+again, and gazed down into the valley.  He imagined he could discern
+the place of the fight.  "That there wolf," he soliloquized, "he was
+some fighter, too.  Mebby he didn't like to get licked any more than
+Chance, here.  Wonder what they was fightin' about?  I dunno.  But, Gee
+Gosh, she was one dandy scrap!"
+
+At the top of the caņon wall he again rested.  He expected to be
+discharged for being late, but solaced himself with the thought that if
+he could save Chance, it was worth the risk.
+
+The riders had returned to the chuck-wagon when Sundown arrived lugging
+the inert body of the wolf-dog.  They gathered around and asked brief
+questions.  Sundown, busy washing the dog's wounds, answered as well as
+he could.  His account of the fight did not suffer for lack of
+embellishment, and while he did not absolutely state that he had taken
+a hand in the fight, his story implied it.
+
+"Don't see nothin' on you to show you been in a scrap," remarked a
+young puncher.
+
+"That's because you can't see in deep enough," retorted Sundown.  "If I
+wasn't in every jump of that fight, me heart was."
+
+"Better shoot him and put him out of his sufferin'," suggested the
+puncher.
+
+Sundown rose from beside the dog.  Shoot Chance?  Not so long as he
+could keep between the dog and the cowboy's gun.  The puncher, half in
+jest, reached for his holster.  Sundown's overwrought nerves gave way.
+He dropped to his knees and lifted his long arms imploringly.  "Don't!
+Don't!" he wailed.  "He ain't dead!  Don't shoot my pal!"
+
+Bud Shoop, who had kept silent, shouldered the puncher aside.  "Cut it
+out, Sinker," he growled.  "Can't you sabe that Sundown means it?"
+
+
+Later in the evening, and fortified with a hearty meal.  Sundown gave a
+revised version of the fight, wherein his participation was modified,
+though the story lost nothing in re-telling.  And, indeed, his own
+achievement, of lugging Chance up the caņon trail, awakened a kind of
+respect among the easy-going cowboys.  To carry an eighty-pound dog up
+that trail took sand!  Again Sundown had unconsciously won their
+respect.  Nothing was said about his late return.  And his horse had
+found its way back to the camp.
+
+
+Sometime in the night, Bud Shoop was awakened by the man next him.
+
+"What's goin' on?" queried Shoop, rising on his elbow.
+
+"Ask me again," said the puncher.  "Listen!"
+
+From the vicinity of the wagon came the gurgle of water and then a
+distinctly canine sneeze.
+
+"Dinged if he ain't fussin' with that dog again!" grumbled Shoop.  "The
+dam' fool!"  Which, as it is the spirit which giveth life to the
+letter, was not altogether uncomplimentary.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+A GIFT
+
+Warned by John Corliss of Loring's evident intent to graze his sheep on
+the west side of the Concho River, the cattle-men held a quiet meeting
+at the ranch of the Concho and voted unanimously to round up a month
+earlier than usual.  The market was at a fair level.  Beef was in
+demand.  Moreover, the round-up would, by the mere physical presence of
+the riders and the cattle, check for the time being any such move as
+Loring contemplated, as the camps would be at the ford.  Meanwhile the
+cattle-men again petitioned the Ranger at Antelope to stir up the
+service at Washington in regard to grazing allotments.
+
+The round-up began.  The Concho outfit moved camp to the ford and
+Sundown had his first introduction to real work.  From morning till
+night and far into the night the fires were going.  Groups of belated
+riders swung in and made for the chuck-wagons.  Sundown, following a
+strenuous eighteen hours of uninterrupted toil, solemnly borrowed a
+piece of "tarp" from his outfit on which he lettered the legend:--
+
+  "CAFE DE CONCHO--MEELS AT ALL
+  HOURS--PRIVIT TABELS FOR LADYS"
+
+He hung the tarp in a conspicuous place and retired to rest.  The
+following morning his efforts were applauded with much picturesque
+expletive, and even criticism was evoked by a lean puncher who insisted
+"that the tall guy might be a good cook all right, but he sure didn't
+know how to spell 'calf.'"  Naturally the puncher's erudition leaned
+toward cattle and the range.
+
+At all times conspicuous, for he topped by a head and shoulders the
+tallest rider on the range.  Sundown became doubly conspicuous as the
+story of his experience with the hold-ups and his rescue of Chance
+became known.  If he strutted, it was pardonable, for he strutted among
+men difficult to wrest approval from, and he had won their approval.
+
+At Hi Wingle's suggestion, he "packed a gun"--a formidable .45 lent him
+by that gracious individual, for it grieved the solid Wingle's soul to
+see so notable a character go unarmed.  Sundown, like many a wiser man,
+was not indifferent to the effect of clothing and equipment.  Obliged
+frequently to relate his midnight adventure with the robbers, he became
+a past-master in the art of dramatic expression.  "If I'd 'a' had me
+gun with me," he was wont to say, slapping the holster significantly,
+"the deal might 'a' turned out different.  I reckon it's luck I
+didn't."  Which may have been true enough, for Sundown would
+undoubtedly have been afraid to use the weapon and Fadeaway might have
+misunderstood his bungling.
+
+In his spare time he built a lean-to of odds and ends, and beneath it
+Chance drowsed away the long, sunny hours while Sundown was rustling
+firewood or holding hot argument with an obstreperous dutch-oven.  And
+Chance became the pet and the pride of the outfit.  Riders from distant
+ranches would stray over to the lean-to and look at him, commenting on
+his size and elaborating on the fact that it usually took two of the
+best dogs ever whelped to pull down a timber-wolf.
+
+Even Fadeaway, now riding for the Blue, became enthusiastic and boasted
+of his former friendship with Chance.  When he essayed the intimacy of
+patting the dog's head, some of the onlookers doubted him, for Chance
+received these overtures with a deep-throated growl.
+
+"He won't let nobody touch him but that Sundown gent," cautioned a
+bystander.
+
+"Guess he's loco since he got chewed up," said Fadeaway, retreating.
+
+Chance licked his wounds and recovered slowly.  He would lie in the
+sun, watching with unwinking gaze the camp and the cluster of men about
+it until the form of Sundown loomed through the mass.  Then he would
+beat the ground with his tail and whine expectantly.  As he became
+stronger, he ventured to stretch his wound-stiffened muscles in short
+pilgrimages to the camp, where the men welcomed him with hearty and
+profane zest.  Was he not the slayer of their enemy's sheep and the
+killer of the timber-wolf?  Eventually he was presented with a broad
+collar studded with brass spikes, and engraved upon it was the
+sanguinary and somewhat ambiguous legend: "Chance--The Killer of the
+Concho."
+
+
+John Corliss, visiting the round-up, rode over to Sundown's tepee, as
+it was called.  The assistant cook was greasing Chance's wounds.
+
+"How is he getting along?" asked Corliss.
+
+"Fine, boss, fine!  This here is some little ole red-cross ward,
+believe me!  He's gettin' over bein' lame and he eats regular."
+
+"Here, Chance!" called Corliss.
+
+The dog rose stiffly and stalked to his master, smelt of him and wagged
+his tail, then stood with lowered head as though pondering some serious
+dog-logic.
+
+"He's kind of queer," explained Sundown, "but he's a whole pile better
+than he was a spell ago.  Had to bring him water and feed him like a
+baby cuttin' teeth--though I never seen one doin' that.  He wouldn't
+let nobody touch him 'ceptin' me."
+
+"Is he able to travel?"
+
+"Oh, some."
+
+"Think he could make it to the Concho?"
+
+Sundown hesitated.  "Mebby.  Yes, I reckon he could.  He can run all
+right, only I guess he kind of likes hangin' around me."  And Sundown
+glanced sideways at Corliss.
+
+"He seems all right.  I guess I'll take him back with me.  I don't like
+the idea of his running loose here."
+
+"He ain't bitin' nobody," assured Sundown.
+
+Corliss glanced shrewdly at the other's lean, questioning face.  "Guess
+you won't miss him much.  How are you making it?"
+
+"Me?  Fine!  Reckon I'll take out me papers for a full-chested range
+cook afore long.  You see the L.D. outfit says that I could have a job
+with them after the round-up.  It kind of leaked out about them pies.
+'Course they was joshin', mebby.  I dunno."
+
+"The L.D. boys are all right," said Corliss.  "If you want to make a
+change--"
+
+"See here, boss!  I done some ramblin' in my time.  Guess because I was
+lookin' for somethin' new and excitin'.  Well, I reckon they's plenty
+new and excitin' right to home on the Concho.  Any time I get tired of
+fallin' off hosses, and gettin' beat up, and mixin' up in dog and wolf
+fights, why, I can go to bustin' broncos to keep me from goin' to
+sleep.  Then Chance there, he needs lookin' after."
+
+Corliss seemingly ignored the gentle hint.  He mounted and called to
+the dog.  Chance made no movement to follow him.  Corliss frowned.
+"Here, Chance!" he commanded, slapping his thigh with his gauntleted
+hand.  The dog followed at the horse's heels as Corliss rode across the
+hard-packed circle around the camp.  Sundown's throat tightened.  His
+pal was gone.
+
+He puttered about, straightening the blankets.  "Gee Gosh! but this
+here shack looks empty!  Never knowed sick folks could be so much
+comp'ny.  And Chance is folks, all right.  Talk about blue blood!  Huh!
+I reckon a thoroughbred dog is prouder than common folks, like me.
+Some king, he was!  Layin' there lookin' out at them punchers and his
+eyes sad-like and proud, and turnin' his head slow, watchin' 'em like
+they was workin' for him.  They's somethin' about class that gets a
+fella, even in a dog.  And most folks knows it, but won't let on."
+
+He took Chance's drinking-basin--a bread-pan appropriated from the
+outfit--and the frayed saddle-blanket that had been the dog's bed, and
+carried them to the cottonwoods edging the river.  There he hid the
+things.  He returned to the lean-to and threw himself on his blankets.
+He felt as though he had just buried a friend.  A cowboy strolled up
+and squatted in front of the lean-to.  He gazed at the interior, nodded
+to Sundown, and rolled a cigarette.  He smoked for a while, glanced up
+at the sky, peered round the camp, and shrugged his shoulders.
+
+Sundown nodded.  "You said it all, Joe.  He's gone."
+
+The cowboy blew rings of smoke, watching them spread and dissolve in
+the evening air.  "Had a hoss onct," he began slowly,--"ornery,
+glass-eyed, she-colt that got mixed up in a bob-wire fence.  Seein' as
+she was like to make the buzzards happy 'most any day, I took to
+nussin' her.  Me, Joe Scott, eh?  And a laugh comin'.  Well, the boys
+joshed--mebby you hearn some of 'em call me Doc.  That's why.  The boys
+joshed and went around like they was in a horsepital, quiet and
+steppin' catty.  I could write a book out of them joshin's and sell
+her, if I could write her with a brandin'-iron or a rope.  Anyhow, the
+colt she gets well and I turns her out on the range, which ought to be
+the end of the story, but it ain't.  She come nickerin' after me like I
+was her man, hangin' around when I showed up at the ranch jest like I
+was a millionaire and she wantin' to get married.  Couldn't get shet of
+her.  So one day I ropes her and says to myself I'll make a trick hoss
+of her and sell her.  The fust trick she done wasn't the one I reckoned
+to learn her.  She lifted me one in the jeans and I like to lost all
+the teeth in my head.  'You're welcome, lady,' says I, 'for this here
+'fectionate token of thanks for my nussin' and gettin' joshed to
+fare-ye-well.  Bein' set on learnin' her, I shortened the rope and let
+her kick a few holes in the climate.  When she got tired of that, I
+begins workin' on her head, easy-like and talkin' kind.  Fust thing I
+knowed she takes a san'wich out of my shirt, the meat part bein' a
+piece of my hide.  Then I got riled.  I lit into her with the boots,
+and we had it.  When I got tired of exercisin' my feet, she comes to me
+rubbin' her nose ag'in' me and kind of nickerin' and lovin' up
+tremendous, bein' a she-hoss.  'Now,' says I, 'I'm goin' to do the
+courtin', sister.'  And I sot out to learn her to shake hands.  She got
+most as good as a state senator at it: purfessional-like, but not real
+glad to see you.  Jest put on.  Then I learns her to nod yes.  That was
+hard.  Then I gets her so she would lay down and stay till I told her
+to get up.  'Course it takes time and I didn't have the time reg'lar.
+I feeds her every time, though.  Then she took to sleepin' ag'in' the
+bunk-house every night, seein' as she run loose jest like a dog.  When
+somebody'd get up in the mornin', there she would be with her eyes
+lookin' in the winder, shinin', and her ears lookin' in, too.  You see
+she was waitin' for her beau to come out, which was me.  She took to
+followin' me on the range when I rid out, and she got fat and sizable.
+The boys give up joshin' and got kind of interested.  But that ain't
+what I'm gettin' at.  Come one day, about two year after I'd been
+monkeyin' with learnin' her her lessons, when I thinks to break her to
+ride.  I got shet of the idea of sellin' her and was goin' to keep her
+myself.  The boys was lookin' for to see me get piled, always figurin'
+a pet hoss was worse to break than a bronc.  She did some fussin', but
+she never bucked--never pitched a move.  Thinks I, I sure got a winner.
+Next day she was gone.  Never seen her after that.  Trailed all over
+the range, but she sure vamoosed.  And nobody never seen her after
+that.  She sure made a dent in my feelin's."
+
+Sundown sat up blinking.  "I reckon that's the difference between a
+hoss and a dog," he said, slowly.  "Now, a hoss and me ain't what you'd
+call a nacheral combination.  And a hoss gets away and don't come back.
+But a dog comes back every time, if he can.  'Most any hoss will stay
+where the feedin' is good, but a dog won't.  He wants to be where his
+boss is."
+
+"And that there Chance is with the boss," said the cowboy, gesturing
+toward the north.  "Seen him foller him down the trail."
+
+Sundown nodded.  The cowboy departed, swaggering away in the dusk.
+
+Just before Sundown was called to take his turn with the night-shift, a
+lean, brown shape tore through the camp, upsetting a pot of frijoles
+and otherwise disturbing the peace and order of the culinary department.
+
+"Coyote!" shouted Wingle, vainly reaching for the gun that he had given
+to Sundown.
+
+"Coyote nothin'!" said a puncher, laughing.  "It's the Killer come back
+hot-foot to find his pardner."
+
+Chance bounded into the lean-to: it was empty.  He sniffed at the place
+where his bed had once been, found Sundown's tracks and followed them
+toward the river.  Sundown was on his knees pawing over something that
+looked very much like a torn and frayed saddle-blanket.  Chance
+volleyed into him, biting playfully at his sleeve, and whining.
+
+Sundown jumped to his feet.  He stood speechless.  Then a slow grin
+crept to his face.  "Gee Gosh!" he said, softly.  "Gee Gosh!  It's you!"
+
+Chance lay down panting.  He had come far and fast.  Sundown gathered
+up the blanket and pan, rose and marched to the shack.  "I was airin'
+'em out against your comin' back," he explained, untruthfully.  The
+fact was that he could not bear to see the empty bed in the lean-to and
+had hidden it in the bushes.
+
+The dog watched him spread the blanket, but would not lie down.
+Instead he followed Sundown to the camp and found a place under the
+chuck-wagon, where he watched his lean companion work over the fires
+until midnight.  If Sundown disappeared for a minute in search of
+something.  Chance was up and at his heels.  Hi Wingle expressed
+himself profanely in regard to the return of the dog, adding with
+unction, "There's a pair of 'em; a pair of 'em."  Which ambiguity
+seemed to satisfy him immensely.
+
+When Sundown finally returned to the lean-to, he was too happy to
+sleep.  He built a small fire, rolled a cigarette and sat gazing into
+the flames.  Chance sat beside him, proud, dignified, contented.
+Sundown became drowsy and slept, his head fallen forward and his lean
+arms crossed upon his knees.  Chance waited patiently for him to waken.
+Finally the dog nuzzled Sundown's arm with little jerks of impatience.
+"What's bitin' you now?" mumbled Sundown.  "We're here, ain't we?"
+Nevertheless he slipped his arm around the dog's muscular shoulders and
+talked to him.  "How'd you get away?  The boss'll raise peelin's over
+this, Chance.  It ain't like to set good with him."  He noticed that
+Chance frequently scratched at his collar as though it irritated him.
+Finally he slipped his fingers under the collar.  "Suthin' got ketched
+in here," he said, unbuckling the strap.  Tied inside the collar was a
+folded piece of paper.  Sundown was about to throw it away when he
+reconsidered and unfolded it.  In the flickering light of the fire he
+spread the paper and read laboriously:--
+
+
+"Chance followed me to the Concho because I made him come.  He showed
+that he didn't want to stay.  I let him go.  If he gets back to you,
+keep him.  He is yours.
+
+"JOHN CORLISS."
+
+
+Sundown folded the note and carefully tucked it in his pocket.  He rose
+and slapped his chest grandiloquently.  "Chance, ole pal," he said with
+a brave gesture, "you're mine!  Got the dockyments to show.  What do
+you think?"
+
+Chance, with mouth open and lolling tongue, seemed to be laughing.
+
+Sundown reached out his long arm as one who greets a friend.
+
+The dog extended his muscular fore leg and solemnly placed his paw in
+Sundown's hand.  No document was required to substantiate his
+allegiance to his new master, nor his new master's title to ownership.
+Despite genealogy, each was in his way a thoroughbred.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+SUNDOWN, VAQUERO
+
+The strenuous days of the round-up were over.  Bands of riders departed
+for their distant ranches leaving a few of their number to ride line
+and incidentally to keep a vigilant eye On the sheep-camps.
+
+David Loring, realizing that he had been checkmated in the first move
+of the game in which cattle and sheep were the pawns and cowboys and
+herders the castles, knights, and, stretching the metaphor a bit,
+bishops, tacitly admitted defeat and employed a diagonal to draw the
+cattle-men's forces elsewhere.  He determined to locate on the
+abandoned water-hole ranch, homestead it, and, by so doing, cut off the
+supply of water necessary to the cattle on the west side of the Concho
+River.  This would be entering the enemy's territory with a vengeance,
+yet there was no law prohibiting his homesteading the ranch, the title
+of which had reverted to the Government.  Too shrewd to risk legal
+entanglement by placing one of his employees on the homestead, he
+decided to have his daughter file application, and nothing forbade her
+employing whom she chose to do the necessary work to prove up.  The
+plan appealed to the girl for various reasons, one of which was that
+she might, by her presence, avert the long-threatened war between the
+two factions.
+
+Sundown and, indirectly, Fadeaway precipitated the impending trouble.
+Fadeaway, riding for the Blue, was left with a companion to ride line
+on the mesas.  Sundown, although very much unlike Othello, found that
+his occupation was gone.  Assistant cooks were a drug on the range.  He
+was equipped with a better horse, a rope, quirt, slicker, and
+instructions to cover daily a strip of territory between the Concho and
+the sheep-camps.  He became in fact an itinerant patrol, his mere
+physical presence on the line being all that was required of him.
+
+
+It was the Seņora Loring who drove to the Concho one morning and was
+welcomed by Corliss to whom she gave the little sack of gold.  She told
+him all that he wished to know in regard to his brother Will, pleading
+for him with motherly gentleness.  Corliss assured her that he felt no
+anger toward his brother, but rather solicitude, and made her happy by
+his generous attitude toward the wrongdoer.  He had already heard that
+his brother had driven to Antelope and taken the train for the West.
+His great regret was that Will had not written to him or come to him
+directly, instead of leaving to the good Seņora the task of
+explanation.  "Never figured that repenting by proxy was the best
+plan," he told the Seņora.  "But he couldn't have chosen a better
+proxy."  At which she smiled, and in departing blessed him in her
+sincere and simple manner, assuring him in turn that should the sheep
+and cattle ever come to an understanding--the Spanish for which
+embraced the larger aspect of the problem--there was nothing she
+desired or prayed for more than the friendship and presence of Corliss
+at the Loring hacienda.  Corliss drew his own inference from this,
+which was a pleasant one.  He felt that he had a friend at court, yet
+explained humorously that sheep and cattle were not by nature fitted to
+occupy the same territory.  He was alive to sentiment, but more keen
+than ever to maintain his position unalterably so far as business was
+concerned.  The Seņora liked him none the less for this.  To her he was
+a man who stood straight, on both feet, and faced the sun.  Her
+daughter Nell . . .  Ah, the big Juan Corliss has such a fine way with
+him . . . what a husband for any woman!  In the mean time . . . only
+thoughts, hopes were possible . . . yet . . . maņana . . . maņana . . .
+there was always to-morrow that would be a brighter day.
+
+To say that Sundown was proud of his unaccustomed regalia from the
+crown of his lofty Stetson to the soles of his high-heeled
+riding-boots, would be putting it mildly.  To say that he was
+especially useful in his new calling as vaquero would not be to put it
+so mildly.  Under the more or less profane tutelage of his companions,
+he learned to throw a rope after a fashion, taking the laughing sallies
+of his comrades good-naturedly.  He persevered.  He was forever
+stealing upon some maternal and unsuspicious cow and launching his rope
+at her with a wild shout--possibly as an anticipatory expression of
+fear in case his rope should fall true.  More than once he had been
+yanked bodily from the saddle and had arisen to find himself minus
+rope, cow, and pony, for no self-respecting cow-horse could watch
+Sundown's unprecedented evolutions and not depart thitherward, feeling
+ashamed and grieved to think that he had ever lived to be a horse.  And
+Sundown, despite his length of limb, seemed unbreakable.  "He's the
+most durable rider on the range," remarked Hi Wingle, incident to one
+of his late assistant's meteoric departures from the saddle.  "He wears
+good."
+
+One morning as Sundown was jogging along, engaged chiefly in watching
+his shadow bob up and down across the wavering bunch-grass, he saw that
+which appeared to be the back of a cow just over a rise.  He walked his
+horse to the rise and for some fantastic reason decided to rope the
+cow.  He swung his rope.  It fell true--in fact, too true, for it
+encircled the animal's neck and looped tight just where the neck joins
+the shoulders.  He took a turn of the rope around the saddle horn.  At
+last he had mastered the knack of the thing!  Why, it was as easy as
+rolling pie-crust!  He was about to wonder what he was going to do
+next, when the cow--which happened to be a large and active
+steer--humped itself and departed for realms unknown.
+
+With the perversity of inanimate objects the rope flipped in a loop
+around Sundown's foot.  The horse bucked, just once, and Sundown was
+launched on a new and promising career.  The ground shot beneath him.
+He clutched wildly at the bunch-grass, secured some, and took it along
+with him.  Chance, who always accompanied Sundown, raced alongside,
+enjoying the novelty of the thing.  He barked and then shot ahead,
+nipping at the steer's heels, and this did not add to his master's
+prospects of ultimate survival.  Sundown shouted for help when he
+could, which was not often.  Startled prairie-dogs disappeared in their
+holes as the mad trio shot past.  The steer, becoming warmed up to his
+work, paid little attention to direction and much to speed.  That a
+band of sheep were grazing ahead made no difference to the charging
+steer.  He plunged into the band.  Sundown dimly saw a sea of sheep
+surge around him and break in storm-tossed waves of wool on either
+side.  He heard some one shout.  Then he fainted.
+
+When he again beheld the sun, a girl was kneeling beside him, a girl
+with dark, troubled eyes.  She offered him wine from a wicker jug.  He
+drank and felt better.
+
+"Are you hurt badly?" she asked.
+
+"Am--I--all here?" queried Sundown.
+
+"I guess so.  You seem to be."
+
+"Was anybody else killed in the wreck?"
+
+The girl smiled.  "You're feeling better.  Let me help you to sit up."
+
+Sundown for the moment felt disinclined to move.  He was in fact pretty
+thoroughly used up.  "Say, did he win?" he queried finally.
+
+"Who?"
+
+"Me dog, Chance.  I got the start at first, but he kind of got ahead
+for a spell."
+
+"I don't know.  Chance is right behind you.  He's out of breath."
+
+"Huh!  Reckon I'm out more'n that.  He's in luck this trip."
+
+"How did it happen?"
+
+"That's what I'm wonderin', lady.  And say, would you be so kind as to
+tell me which way is north?"
+
+Despite her solicitude for the recumbent Sundown, Eleanor Loring
+laughed.  "You are in one of the sheep-camps.  I'm Eleanor Loring."
+
+"Sheep-camp?  Gee Gosh!  Did you stop me?"
+
+"Yes.  I was just riding into camp when you--er--arrived.  I headed the
+steer back and Fernando cut the rope."
+
+"Thanks, miss.  And Fernando is wise to his business, all right."
+
+"Can you sit up now?" she asked.
+
+"Ow!  I guess I can.  That part of me wasn't expectin' to be moved
+sudden-like.  How'd I get under these trees?"
+
+"Fernando carried you."
+
+"Well, little old Fernando is some carrier.  Where is he?  I wouldn't
+mind shakin' hands with that gent."
+
+"He's out after the sheep.  The steer stampeded them."
+
+"Well, miss, speakin' from me heart--that there steer was no lady.  I
+thought she was till I roped him.  I was mistook serious."
+
+"He might have killed you.  Let me help you up."
+
+Sundown had been endeavoring to get to his feet.  Finally he rose and
+leaned against a tree.  Fortunately for him his course had been over a
+stretch of yielding bunch-grass, and not, as might have been the case,
+over the ragged tufa.  As it was his shirt hung from his back in
+shreds, and he felt that his overalls were not all that their name
+implied.  The numbness of his abrasions and bruises was wearing off.
+The pain quickened his senses.  He realized that his hat was missing,
+that one spur was gone and the other was half-way up his leg.  He was
+not pleased with his appearance, and determined to "make a slope" as
+gracefully and as quickly as circumstances would permit.
+
+Chance, gnawing at a burr that had stuck between his toes, saw his
+master rise.  He leaped toward Sundown and stood waiting for more fun.
+
+"Chance seems all right now," said the girl, patting the dog's head.
+
+"John Corliss give him to me, miss.  He's my dog now.  Yes, he's active
+all right, 'specially chasin' steers."
+
+"I remember you.  You're the man that carried Chance up the caņon trail
+that day when he was hurt."
+
+"Yes, miss.  He ain't forgettin' either."
+
+The girl studied Sundown's lean face as he gazed across the mesas,
+wondering how he was going to make his exit without calling undue
+attention to his dearth of raiment.  She had heard that this man, this
+queer, ungainly outlander, had been companion to Will Corliss.  She had
+also heard that Sundown had been injured when the robbery occurred.
+Pensively she drew her empty gauntlet through her fingers.
+
+"Do you know who took the money--that night?" she asked suddenly, and
+Sundown straightened and gazed at her.
+
+He blinked and coughed.  "Bein' no hand to lie to a lady, I do," he
+said, simply.  "But I can't tell, even if you did save me life from
+that there steer."
+
+She bit her lips, and nodded.  "I didn't really mean to ask.  I was
+curious to know.  Won't you take my horse?  You can send him back
+to-morrow."
+
+"And you beat it home afoot?  Say, lady, I mebby been a Bo onct, but I
+ain't hurt that bad.  If I can't find me trail back to where I started
+from, it won't be because it ain't there.  Thanks, jest the same."
+
+Sundown essayed a step, halted and groaned.  He felt of himself
+gingerly.  He did not seem to be injured in any special place, as he
+ached equally all over.  "I'll be goin', lady.  I say thanks for savin'
+me life."
+
+The girl smiled and nodded.  "Will you please tell Mr. Corliss that I
+should like to see him, to-morrow, at Fernando's camp?  I think he'll
+understand."
+
+"Sure, miss!  I'll tell him.  That Fernando man looks to be havin' some
+trouble with them sheep."
+
+The girl glanced toward the mesa.  Fernando and his assistant were
+herding the sheep closer, and despite their activity were really
+getting the frightened animals bunched well.  When she turned again
+Sundown had disappeared.
+
+
+Sundown's arrival in camp, on foot, was not altogether unexpected.  One
+of the men had seen a riderless horse grazing on the mesa, and had
+ridden out and caught it.  Circumstantial evidence--rider and rope
+missing--confirmed Hi Wingle's remark that "that there walkin'
+clothes-pin has probably roped somethin' at last."  And the "walking
+clothes-pin's" condition when he appeared seemed to substantiate the
+cook's theory.
+
+"Lose your rope?" queried Wingle as Sundown limped up.
+
+"Uhuh.  And that ain't all.  You ain't got a pair of pants that ain't
+working have you?"
+
+Wingle smiled.  "Pants?  Think this here's a Jew clothin'-store?"
+
+"Nope.  But if she was a horsepital now--"
+
+"Been visitin'?"
+
+"Uhuh.  I jest run over to see some friends of mine in a sheep-camp."
+
+"Did, eh?  And mebby you can tell me what you run over?"
+
+"'Most everything out there," said Sundown, pointing to the mesa.
+"Say, you ain't got any of that plaster like they put on a guy's head
+when he gets hit with a brick?"
+
+"Nope.  But I got salt."
+
+"And pepper," concluded Sundown with some sarcasm.  "Mebby I do look
+like a barbecue."
+
+"Straight, Sun, salt and water is mighty healin'.  You better ride over
+to the Concho and get fixed up."
+
+"Reckon that ain't no dream, Hi.  Got to see the boss, anyhow."
+
+"Well, 'anyhow' is correc'.  And, say, you want to see him first and
+tell him it's you.  Your hoss is tied over there.  Sinker fetched him
+in."
+
+"Hoss?  Oh, yes, hoss!  My hoss!  Uhuh!"
+
+With this somewhat ambiguous string of ejaculations Sundown limped
+toward the pony.  He turned when halfway there and called to Wingle.
+"The cattle business is fine, Hi, fine, but between you and me I reckon
+I'll invest in sheep.  A fella is like to live longer."
+
+Wingle stared gravely at the tall and tattered figure.  He stared
+gravely, but inwardly he shook with laughter.  "Say, Sun!" he managed
+to exclaim finally, "that there Nell Loring is a right fine gal, ain't
+she?"
+
+"You bet!"
+
+"And Jack ain't the worst . . ."  Wingle spat and chewed ruminatively.
+"No, he ain't the worst," he asserted again.
+
+"I dunno what that's got to do with gettin' drug sixteen mile," said
+Sundown.  "But, anyhow, you're right."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+ON THE TRAIL TO THE BLUE
+
+In the shade of the forest that edged the mesa, and just back of
+Fernando's camp, a Ranger trail cuts through a patch of quaking-asp and
+meanders through the heavy-timbered land toward the Blue range, a
+spruce-clad ridge of southern hills.  Close to the trail two saddle
+horses were tied.
+
+Fadeaway, riding toward his home ranch on the "Blue," reined up, eyed
+the horses, and grinned.  One of them was Chinook, the other Eleanor
+Loring's black-and-white pinto, Challenge.  The cowboy bent in his
+saddle and peered through the aspens toward the sheep-camp.  He saw
+Corliss and Nell Loring standing close together, evidently discussing
+something of more than usual import, for at that moment John Corliss
+had raised his broad Stetson as though bidding farewell to the girl,
+but she had caught his arm as he turned and was clinging to him.  Her
+attitude was that of one supplicating, coaxing, imploring.  Fadeaway,
+with a vicious twist to his mouth, spat.  "The cattle business and the
+sheep business looks like they was goin' into partnership," he
+muttered.  "Leave it to a woman to fool a man every time.  And him
+pertendin' to be all for the long-horns!"  He saw the girl turn from
+Corliss, bury her face in her arms, and lean against the tree beneath
+which they were standing.  Fadeaway grinned.  "Women are all crooked,
+when they want to be," he remarked,--"or any I ever knowed.  If they
+can't work a guy by talkin' and lovin', then they take to cryin'."
+
+Just then Corliss stepped to the girl and put his hand on her shoulder.
+Again she turned to him.  He took her hands and held them while he
+talked.  Fadeaway could see her lips move, evidently in reply.  He
+could not hear what was being said, as his horse was restless, fretting
+and stamping.  The saddle creaked.  Fadeaway jerked the horse up, and
+in the momentary silence he caught the word "love."
+
+"Makes me sick!" he said, spurring forward.  "'Love,' eh?  Well, mebby
+my little idea of puttin' Billy Corliss in wrong didn't work, but I'll
+hand Jack a jolt that'll make him think of somethin' else besides love,
+one of these fine mornin's!"  And the cowboy rode on, out of tune with
+the peace and beauty of his surroundings, his whole being centered upon
+making trouble for a man who he knew in his heart wished him no ill,
+and in fact had all but forgotten him so far as considering him either
+as an enemy or a friend.
+
+Just as he was about to swing out to the open of the mesa near the edge
+of the caņon, he came upon a Mexican boy asleep beneath the low
+branches of a spruce.  Fadeaway glanced across the mesa and, as he had
+expected, saw a band of sheep grazing in the sunshine.  His trail ran
+directly toward the sheep.  Beyond lay the caņon.  He would not ride
+around a herd of sheep that blocked his trail, not if he knew it!  As
+he drew nearer the sheep they bunched, forcing those ahead to move on.
+Fadeaway glanced back at the sleeping boy, then set spur to his horse
+and waved his sombrero.  The sheep broke into a trot.  He rode back and
+forth behind them forcing them toward the caņon.  He beat upon his
+rolled slicker with his quirt.  The sound frenzied the sheep and they
+leaped forward.  Lambs, trailing behind, called dolefully to the
+plunging ewes that trampled each other in their terror.  Again the
+cowboy glanced back.  No one was in sight.  He wondered, for an
+instant, what had become of Fernando, for he knew it was Fernando's
+herd.  He shortened rein and spurred his pony, making him rear.  The
+sheep plunged ahead, those in front swerving as they came to the
+caņon's brink.  The crowding mass behind forced them on.  Fadeaway
+reined up.  A great gray wave rolled over the cliff and disappeared
+into the soundless chasm.  A thousand feet below lay the mangled
+carcasses of some five hundred sheep and lambs.  A scattered few of the
+band had turned and were trotting aimlessly along the edge of the mesa.
+They separated as the rider swept up.  One terror-stricken lamb,
+bleating piteously, hesitated on the very edge of the chasm.  Fadeaway
+swung his hat and laughed as the little creature reared and leaped out
+into space.  There had been but little noise--an occasional frightened
+bleat, a drumming of hoofs on the mesa, and they were swept from sight.
+
+Fadeaway reined around and took a direct line for the nearest timber.
+Halfway across the open he saw the Mexican boy running toward him.  He
+leaned forward in the saddle and hung his spurs in his pony's sides.  A
+quick beat of hoofs and he was within the shadow of the forest.  The
+next thing was to avoid pursuit.  He changed his course and rode toward
+the heart of the forest.  He would take an old and untraveled
+bridle-trail to the Blue.  He was riding in a rocky hollow when he
+thought he heard the creak of saddle-leather.  He glanced back.  No one
+was following him.  Farther on he stopped.  He was certain that he had
+again heard the sound.  As he topped the rise he saw Corliss riding
+toward him.  The rancher had evidently swung from the Concho trail and
+was making his way directly toward the unused trail which Fadeaway
+rode.  The cowboy became doubly alert.  He shifted a little in the
+saddle, sitting straight, his right hand resting easily on his hip.
+Corliss drew rein and they faced each other.  There was something about
+the rancher's grim, silent attitude that warned Fadeaway.
+
+Yet he grinned and waved a greeting.  "How!" he said, as though he were
+meeting an old friend.
+
+Corliss nodded briefly.  He sat gazing at Fadeaway with an unreadable
+expression.
+
+"Got the lock-jaw?" queried Fadeaway, his pretended heartiness
+vanishing.
+
+Corliss allowed himself to smile, a very little.  "You better ride back
+with me," he said, quietly.
+
+Fadeaway laughed.  "I'm takin' orders from the Blue, these days," he
+said.  "Mebby you forgot."
+
+"No, I haven't."
+
+"And I'm headed for the Blue," continued the cowboy.  "Goin' my way?"
+
+"You're on the wrong trail," asserted Corliss.  "You've been riding the
+wrong trail ever since you left the Concho."
+
+"Uhuh.  Well, I been keepin' clear of the sheep camps, at that."
+
+"Don't know about that," said Corliss, easily.
+
+Fadeaway was too shrewd to have recourse to his gun.  He knew that
+Corliss was the quicker man, and he realized that, even should he get
+the better of a six-gun argument, the ultimate result would be outlawry
+and perhaps death.  He wanted to get away from that steady,
+heart-searching gaze that held him.
+
+"Sheep business is lookin' up," he said, with an attempt at jocularity.
+
+"We'll ride back and have a talk with Loring," said Corliss.  "Some one
+put a band of his sheep into the caņon, not two hours ago.  Maybe you
+know something about it."
+
+"Me?  What you dreaming anyhow?"
+
+"I'm not.  It looks like your work."
+
+"So you're tryin' to hang somethin' onto me, eh?  Well, you want to
+call around early--you're late."
+
+"No, I'm the first one on the job.  Did you stampede Loring's sheep?"
+
+"Did I stampede the love-makin'?" sneered Fadeaway.
+
+Corliss shortened rein and drew close to the cowboy.
+
+"Just explain that," he said.
+
+"Oh, I don' know.  You the boss of creation?"
+
+Corliss's lips hardened.  He let his quirt slip butt-first through his
+hand and grasped the lash.  Fadeaway's hand slipped to his holster.
+Before he could pull his gun, Corliss swung the quirt.  The blow caught
+Fadeaway just below the brim of his hat.  He wavered and grabbed at the
+saddle-horn.  As Corliss again swung his quirt, the cowboy jerked out
+his gun and brought it down on the rancher's head.  Corliss dropped
+from the saddle.  Fadeaway rode around and covered him.  Corliss's hat
+lay a few feet from where he had fallen.  Beneath his head a dark ooze
+spread a hand's-breadth on the trail.  The cowboy dismounted and bent
+over him.  "He's sportin' a dam' good hat," he said, "or that would 'a'
+fixed _him_.  Guess he'll be good for a spell."  Then he reached for
+his stirrup, mounted, and loped up the trail.
+
+
+Old Fernando, having excused himself on some pretext when Corliss rode
+into the camp that morning, returned to find Corliss gone and Nell
+Loring strangely grave and white.  She nodded as he spoke to her and
+pointed toward the mesa.  "Carlos--is out--looking for the sheep," she
+said, her lips trembling.  "He says some one stampeded them--run them
+into the caņon."
+
+Fernando called upon his saints and cursed himself for his negligence
+in leaving his son with the sheep.  Nell Loring spoke to him quietly,
+assuring him that she understood why he had absented himself.  "It's my
+fault, Fernando, not yours.  The patron will want to know why you were
+away.  You will tell him that John Corliss came to your camp; that you
+thought I wanted to talk with him alone.  Then he will know that it was
+my fault.  I'll tell him when I get back to the rancho."
+
+Fernando straightened his wizened frame.  "Si!  As the Seņorita says, I
+shall do.  But first I go to look.  Perhaps the patron shall not know
+that the vaquero Corlees was here this morning.  It is that I ask the
+Seņorita to say nothing to the patron until I look.  Is it that you
+will do this?"
+
+"What can you do?" she asked.
+
+"It is yet to know.  Adios, Seņorita.  You will remember the old
+Fernando, perhaps?"
+
+"But you're coming back!  Oh! it was terrible!" she cried.  "I rode to
+the caņon and looked down."
+
+Fernando meanwhile had been thinking rapidly.  With quaint dignity he
+excused himself as he departed to catch up one of the burros, which he
+saddled and rode out to where his son was standing near the caņon.  The
+boy shrank from him as he accosted him.  Fernando's deep-set eyes
+blazed forth the anger that his lips imprisoned.  He sent the boy back
+to the camp.  Then he picked up the tracks of a horseman on the mesa,
+followed them to the caņon's brink, glanced down, shrugged his
+shoulders, and again took up the horseman's trail toward the forest.
+With the true instinct of the outlander, he reasoned that the horseman
+had headed for the old trail to the Blue, as the tracks led diagonally
+toward the south.  Finally he realized that he could never overtake the
+rider by following the tracks, so he dismounted and tied his burro.  He
+struck toward the caņon.  A mile above him there was a ford.  He would
+wait there and see who came.  He made his perilous way down a notch in
+the cliff, dropped slowly to the level of the stream, and followed it
+to the ford.  He searched for tracks in the sun-baked mud.  With a sigh
+of satisfaction, perhaps of anticipation, he stepped to a clump of
+cottonwoods down the stream and backed within them.  Scarcely had he
+crossed himself and drawn his gun from its weather-blackened holster,
+when he heard the click of shod hoofs on the trail.  He stiffened and
+his eyes gleamed as though he anticipated some pleasant prospect.  The
+creases at the corners of his eyes deepened as he recognized in the
+rider the vaquero who had set the Concho dog upon his sheep some months
+before.  He had a score to settle with that vaquero for having shot at
+him.  He had another and larger score to settle with him for--no, he
+would not think of his beloved sheep mangled and dead at the bottom of
+the caņon.  That would anger him and make his hand unsteady.
+
+Fadeaway rode his horse into the ford and sat looking downstream as the
+horse drank.  Just as he drew rein, the old herder imitated with
+perfect intonation the quavering bleat of a lamb calling to its mother.
+Fadeaway jerked straight in the saddle.  A ball of smoke puffed from
+the cottonwoods.  The cowboy doubled up and slid headforemost into the
+stream.  The horse, startled by the lunge of its rider, leaped to the
+bank and raced up the trail.  A diminishing echo ran along the caņon
+walls and rolled away to distant, faint muttering.  Old Fernando had
+paid his debt of vengeance.
+
+Leisurely he broke a twig from the cottonwoods, tore a strip from his
+bandanna, and cleaned his gun.  Then he retraced his steps to the
+burro, mounted, and rode directly to his camp.  After he had eaten he
+told his son to pack their few belongings.  Then he again mounted the
+burro and rode toward the hacienda to face the fury of the patron.
+
+He had for a moment left the flock in charge of his son.  He had
+returned to find all but a few of the sheep gone.  He had tracked them
+to the caņon brink.  Ah! could the patron have seen them, lying mangled
+upon the rocks!  It had been a long hard climb to the bottom of the
+caņon, else he should have reported sooner.  Some one had driven the
+sheep into the chasm.  As to the man who did it, he knew nothing.
+There were tracks of a horse--that was all.  He had come to report and
+receive his dismissal.  Never again should he see the Seņora Loring.
+He had been the patron's faithful servant for many years.  He was
+disgraced, and would be dismissed for negligence.
+
+So he soliloquized as he rode, yet he was not altogether unhappy.  He
+had avenged insult and the killing of his beloved sheep with one little
+crook of his finger; a thing that his patron, brave as he was, would
+not dare do.  He would return to New Mexico.  It was well!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+THEY KILLED THE BOSS!
+
+Sundown, much to his dismay, was lost.  With a sack of salt tied across
+his saddle, he had ridden out that morning to fill one of the salt-logs
+near a spring where the cattle came to drink.  He had found the log,
+filled it, and had turned to retrace his journey when a flock of wild
+turkeys strung out across his course.  His horse, from which the riders
+of the Concho had aforetime shot turkeys, broke into a kind of
+reminiscent lope, which quickened as the turkeys wheeled and ran
+swiftly through the timberland.  Sundown clung to the saddle-horn as
+the pony took fallen logs at top speed.  The turkeys made for a rim of
+a narrow caņon and from it sailed off into space, leaving Chance a
+disconsolate spectator and Sundown sitting his horse and thanking the
+Arizona stars that his steed was not equipped with wings.  It was then
+that he realized that the Concho ranch might be in any one of the four
+directions he chose to take.  He wheeled the horse, slackened rein, and
+allowed that sagacious but apparently disinterested animal to pick its
+leisurely way through the forest.  Chance trotted sullenly behind.  He
+could have told his master something about hunting turkeys had he been
+able to speak, and, judging from the dog's dejected stride and
+expression, speech would have been a relief to his feelings.
+
+The horse, nipping at scant shoots of bunch-grass and the blue-flowered
+patches of wild peas, gravitated toward the old trail to the Blue and,
+once upon it, turned toward home.  Chance, refreshing his memory of the
+old trail, ran ahead, pausing at this fallen log and that
+fungus-spotted stump to investigate squirrel-holes with much sniffing
+and circling of the immediate territory.  Sundown imagined that Chance
+was leading the way toward home, though in reality the dog was merely
+killing time, so to speak, while the pony plodded deliberately down the
+homeward trail.
+
+Dawdling along in the barred sunshine, at peace with himself and the
+pleasant solitudes, Sundown relaxed and fell to dreaming of Andalusian
+castles builded in far forests of the south, and of some Spanish
+Penelope--possibly not unlike the Seņorita Loring--who waited his
+coming with patient tears and rare fidelity.  "Them there
+true-be-doors," he muttered, "like Billy used to say, sure had the glad
+job--singin' and wrastlin' out po'try galore!  A singin'-man sure gets
+the ladies.  Now if I was to take on a little weight--mebby . . ."  His
+weird soliloquy was broken by a sharp and excited bark.  Chance was
+standing in the trail, and beyond him there was something . . .
+
+Sundown, anticipating more turkeys, slid from his horse without delay.
+He stalked stealthily toward the quivering dog.  Then, dropping the
+reins, he ran to Corliss, knelt beside him, and lifted his head.  He
+called to him.  He ripped the rancher's shirt open and felt over his
+heart.  "They killed me boss!  They killed me boss!" he wailed, rising
+and striding back and forth in impotent excitement and grief.  He did
+not know where to look for water.  He did not know what to do.  A
+sudden fury at his helplessness overcame him, and he mounted and rode
+down the trail at a wild gallop.  Fortunately he was headed in the
+right direction.
+
+Wingle, Bud Shoop, and several of the men were holding a heated
+conference with old man Loring when Sundown dashed into the Concho.
+Trembling with rage and fear he leaped from his horse.
+
+"They killed the boss!" he cried hoarsely.  "Up there--in the woods."
+
+"Killed who?  Where?  Slow down and talk easy!  Who's killed?" volleyed
+the group.
+
+"Me boss!  Up there on the trail with his head bashed in!  Chance and
+me found him layin' on the trail."
+
+The men swung to their saddles.  "Better come along, Loring," said
+Shoop, riding close to the old sheep-man.  "Looks like they was more 'n
+one side to this deal.  And you, too, Sun."
+
+The riders, led by the gesticulating and excited Sundown, swung out to
+the road and crossed to the forest.  Shoop and Hi Wingle spurred ahead
+while the others questioned Sundown, following easily.  When they
+arrived at the scene of the fight, Corliss was sitting propped against
+a tree with Shoop and Wangle on either side of him.  Corliss stared
+stupidly at the men.
+
+"Who done it?" asked Wingle.
+
+"Fadeaway," murmured the rancher.
+
+Loring, in the rear of the group, laughed ironically.
+
+Shoop's gun jumped from its holster and covered the sheep-man.  "If one
+of your lousy herders done this, he'll graze clost to hell to-night
+with the rest of your dam' sheep!" he cried.
+
+"Easy, Bud!" cautioned Wingle.  "The boss ain't passed over yet.  Bill,
+you help Sinker here get the boss back home.  The rest of you boys hit
+the trail for the Blue.  Fadeaway is like to be up in that country."
+
+"Ante up, Loring!" said Shoop, mounting his horse.  "I'll see your hand
+if it takes every chip in the stack."
+
+"Here, too!" chorused the riders.  "We're all in on this."
+
+They trailed along in single file until they came to the ford.  They
+reined up sharply.  One of them dismounted and dragged the body of
+Fadeaway to the bank.  They grouped around gazing at the hole in
+Fadeaway's shirt.
+
+Shoop turned the body over.  "Got it from in front," he said, which was
+obvious to their experienced eyes.
+
+"And it took a fast gun to get him," asserted Loring.
+
+The men were silent, each visualizing his own theory of the fight on
+the trail and the killing of Fadeaway.
+
+"Jack was layin' a long way from here," said Wingle.
+
+"When you found him," commented Loring.
+
+"Only one hoss crossed the ford this morning," announced Shoop, wading
+across the stream.
+
+"And Fade got it from in front," commented a puncher.  "His tracks is
+headed for the Blue."
+
+Again the men were silent.  Shoop rolled a cigarette.  The splutter of
+the sulphur-match, as it burned from blue to yellow, startled them.
+They relaxed, cursing off their nervous tension in monosyllables.
+
+"Well, Fade's played his stack, and lost.  Jack was sure in the game,
+but how far--I dunno.  Reckon that's got anything to do with stampedin'
+your sheep?" asked Wingle, turning to Loring.
+
+Loring's deep-set eyes flashed.  "Fernando reported that a Concho rider
+done the job.  He didn't say who done it."
+
+"Didn't, eh?  And did Fernando say anything about doin' a job himself?"
+asked Shoop.
+
+"If you're tryin' to hang this onto any of my herders, you're ridin' on
+the wrong side of the river.  I reckon you won't have to look far for
+the gun that got _him_."  And Loring gestured toward the body.
+
+Hi Wingle stooped and pulled Fadeaway's gun from its holster.  He spun
+the cylinder, swung it out, and invited general inspection.  "Fade
+never had a chance," he said, lowering the gun.  "They's six pills in
+her yet.  You got to show me he wasn't plugged from behind a rock or
+them bushes."  And Wingle pointed toward the cottonwoods.
+
+One of the men rode down the caņon, searching for tracks.  Chance,
+following, circled the bushes, and suddenly set off toward the north.
+
+Sundown, who had been watching him, dismounted his horse.  "Chance,
+there, mebby he's found somethin'."
+
+"Well, he's your dog.  Go ahead if you like.  Mebby Chance struck a
+scent."
+
+"Coyote or lion," said Wingle.  "They ain't no trail down them rocks."
+
+Sundown, following Chance, disappeared in the caņon.  The men covered
+Fadeaway's body with a slicker and weighted it with stones.  Then they
+sent a puncher to Antelope to notify the sheriff.
+
+
+As they rode into the Concho, they saw that Corliss's horse was in the
+corral.  Their first anger had cooled, yet they gazed sullenly at
+Loring.  They were dissatisfied with his interpretation of the killing
+and not a little puzzled.
+
+"Where's Fernando?" queried Shoop aggressively.
+
+Loring put the question aside with a wave of his hand.  "Jest a minute
+afore I go.  You're tryin' to hang this onto me or mine.  You're wrong.
+You're forgettin' they's five hundred of my sheep at the bottom of the
+Concho Caņon, I guess.  They didn't get there by themselves.
+Fadeaway's got his, which was comin' to him this long time.  That's
+nothin' to me.  What I want to see is Jack Corliss's gun."
+
+Bud Shoop stepped into the ranch-house and presently returned with the
+Coitus.  "Here she is.  Take a look."
+
+The old sheep-man swung out the cylinder and pointed with a gnarled and
+horny finger.  The men closed in and gazed in silence.  One of the
+shells was empty.
+
+Loring handed the gun to Shoop.  "I'll ask Jack," said the foreman.
+When he returned to the group he was unusually grave.  "Says he plugged
+a coyote this mornin'."
+
+Loring's seamed and weathered face was expressionless.  "Well, he did a
+good job, if I do say it," he remarked, as though to himself.
+
+"Which?" queried Shoop.
+
+"I don't say," replied Loring.  "I'm lettin' the evidence do the
+talkin'."
+
+"Well, you'll hear her holler before we get through!" asserted the
+irrepressible Bud.  "Fade, mebby, wa'n't no lady's man, but he had
+sand.  He was a puncher from the ground up, and we ain't forgettin'
+that!"
+
+"And I ain't forgettin' them five hundred sheep."  Loring reined
+around.  "And you're goin' to hear from me right soon.  I reckon they's
+law in this country."
+
+"Let her come!" retorted Shoop.  "We'll all be here!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+SUNDOWN ADVENTURES
+
+By dint of perilous scrambling Sundown managed to keep within sight of
+Chance, who had picked up Fernando's tracks leading from the
+cottonwoods.  The dog leaped over rocks and trotted along the levels,
+sniffing until he came to the rift in the caņon wall down which the
+herder had toiled on his grewsome errand.  Chance climbed the sharp
+ascent with clawing reaches of his powerful forelegs and quick thrusts
+of his muscular haunches.  Sundown followed as best he could.  He was
+keyed to the strenuous task by that spurious by-product of anticipation
+frequently termed a "hunch."
+
+When the dog at last reached the edge of the timber and dashed into
+Fernando's deserted camp, Sundown was puzzled until he happened to
+recall the incidents leading to Fadeaway's discharge from the Concho.
+He reclined beneath a tree familiar to him as a former basis for
+recuperation.  He felt of himself reminiscently while watching Chance
+nose about the camp.  Presently the dog came and, squatting on his
+haunches, faced his master with the query, "What next?" scintillating
+in his glowing eyes.
+
+"I dunno," replied Sundown.  "You see, pardner, this here's Fernando's
+camp all right.  Now, I ain't got nothin' ag'in' that little ole
+Fernando man, 'specially as it was him cut the rope that was snakin' me
+to glory onct.  I ain't got nothin' ag'in' him, or nobody.  Mebby Fade
+did set after them sheep.  Mebby Fernando knows it and sets after him.
+Mebby he squats in them cotton-woods by the ford and 'Pom!' goes
+somethin' and pore Fadeaway sure makes his name good.  Never did like
+him, but I ain't got nothin' ag'in' him now.  You see, Chance, he's
+quit bein' mean, now.  And say, gettin' killed ain't no dream.  I been
+there three, four times myself--all but the singin'.  Two wrecks, one
+shootin', and one can o' beans that was sick.  It sure ain't no fun.
+Wonder if gettin' killed that way will square Fade with the Big Boss
+over there?  I reckon not.  'T ain't what a fella gets done to him that
+counts.  It's what he does to the other guy, good or bad.  Now, take
+them martyrs what my pal Billy used to talk about.  They was always
+standin' 'round gettin' burned and punctured with arrers, and
+lengthened out and shortened up when they ought to been takin' boxin'
+lessons or sords or somethin'.  Huh!  I never took much stock in them.
+If it's what a fella gets _done_ to him, it's easy money I'll be takin'
+tickets at the gate instead of crawlin' under the canvas--and mebby
+tryin' to sneak you in, too--eh, Chance?"
+
+To all of which the great wolf-dog listened with exemplary patience.
+He would have preferred action, but not unlike many human beings who
+strive to appear profound under a broadside of philosophical eloquence,
+applauding each bursting shrapnel of platitudes by mentally wagging
+their tails, Chance wagged his tail, impressed more by the detonation
+than the substance.  And Chance was quite a superior dog, as dogs go.
+
+When Sundown finally arrived at the Concho, he was met by Bud Shoop,
+who questioned him.  Sundown gave a detailed account of his recent
+exploration.
+
+"You say they was no burros at the camp--no tarp, or grub, or nothin'?"
+
+"Nope.  Nothin' but a dead fire," replied Sundown.
+
+"Any sheep?"
+
+"Mebby four or five.  Didn't count 'em."
+
+"Huh!  Wonder where the rest of the greaser's herd is grazin'?"
+
+"I dunno.  I rode straight acrost to here."
+
+"Looks mighty queer to me," commented the foreman.  "I take it that
+Fernando's lit out."
+
+"Will they pinch the boss?" queried Sundown.
+
+"I don' know.  Anyhow, they can't prove it on him.  Even if Jack
+did--and I don't mind sayin' it to you--plug Fade, he did it to keep
+from gettin' plugged hisself.  Do you reckon I'd let any fella
+chloroform me with the butt of a .45 and not turn loose?  I tell you,
+if Jack had been a-goin' to get Fade _right_, you'd 'a' found 'em
+closter together.  And that ain't all.  If Jack had wanted to get Fade,
+you can bet he wouldn't got walloped on the head first.  The gun that
+got Fade weren't packed by a puncher."
+
+"Will they be any more shootin'?" queried Sundown.
+
+"Gettin' cold feet, Sun?"
+
+"Nope.  But say, it ain't no fun to get shot up.  It don't feel good
+and it's like to make a guy cross.  A guy can't make pie or eat pie all
+shot up, nohow."
+
+"Pie?  You sure are loco.  What you tryin' to rope now?"
+
+"Nothin'.  But onct I was in the repair shop with two docs explorin' me
+works with them there shiny little corkscrews, lookin' for a bullit
+that Clammie-the-dip let into me system--me bein' mistook for another
+friend of his by mistake.  After the docs dug up the bullit they says,
+'Anything you want to say?'--expectin' me to pass over, I reckon.
+'There is,' says I.  'I want to say that I ain't et nothin' sense the
+day before Clammie done me dirt.  An' if I'm goin' to hit the slide I
+jest as soon hit it full of pie as empty.'  And them docs commenced to
+laugh.  'Let him have it,' says one.  'But don't you reckon ice-cream
+would be less apt to--er--hasten--the--er--' jest like that.  'Pussuble
+you're correct' says the other.'"  Sundown scratched his ear.  "And I
+et the ice-cream, feelin' kind o' sad-like seein' it wasn't pie.  You
+see, Bud, gettin' shot up is kind of disconvenient."
+
+"Well, you're the limit!" exclaimed Shoop.  "Say, the boss wants to
+make a few talks to you to-morrow.  Told me to tell you when you come
+back.  You better go feed up.  As I recollec' Hi's wrastlin' out some
+pie-dough right now."
+
+"Well, I ain't takin' no chances, Bud."
+
+"You tell that to Hi and see what he says."
+
+"Nope.  'T ain't necessary.  You see when them docs seen, about a week
+after, that I was comin' strong instead of goin', they says, 'Me man,
+if you'd 'a' had pie in your stummick when you was shot, you wouldn't
+be here to-day.  You'd be planted--or somethin' similar.  The fac' that
+your stummick was empty evidentially saved your life.'  And," concluded
+Sundown, "they's no use temptin' Providence now."
+
+
+Shortly after breakfast next morning Corliss sent for Sundown.  The
+rancher sat propped up in a wide armchair.  He was pale, but his eyes
+were clear and steady.
+
+"Bud told me about yesterday," he began, anticipating Sundown's
+leisurely and erratic recital.  "I understand you found me on the trail
+and went for help."
+
+"Yes.  I thought you was needin' some about then."
+
+"How did you come to find me?"
+
+"Got lost.  Hoss he took me there."
+
+"Did you see any one on the trail?"
+
+"Nope."
+
+"Hear any shooting?"
+
+"Nope.  But I seen some turkeys."
+
+"Well, I expect the sheriff will be here tomorrow.  He'll want to talk
+to you.  Answer him straight.  Don't try to help me in any way.  Just
+tell him what you know--not what you think."
+
+"I sure will, boss.  Wish Chance could talk.  He could tell."
+
+Corliss smiled faintly.  "Yes, I suppose he could.  You followed him to
+Fernando's camp?"
+
+"Uhuh."
+
+"All right.  Now, I've had a talk with Bud about something that has
+been bothering me.  I think I can trust you.  I want you to ride to
+Antelope to-morrow morning and give a letter from me to the lawyer
+there, Kennedy.  He'll tell you what to do after that.  I don't feel
+like talking much, but I'll say this: You remember the water-hole
+ranch.  Well, I want you to file application to homestead it.  Kennedy
+will tell you what to do.  Don't ask any questions, but do as he says.
+You'll have to go to Usher by train and he'll go with you.  You won't
+lose anything by it."
+
+"Me?  Homestead?  Huh!  And have cows and pigs and things?  I don't
+jest get you, boss, but what you say goes.  Why, I'd homestead a ranch
+in hell and take chances on findin' water if you said it.  Say,
+boss,"--and Sundown leaned toward Corliss confidentially and lowered
+his voice,--"I ain't what you'd call a nervy man, but say, I got
+somethin' jest as good.  I--I--" and Sundown staggered around feeling
+for the word he wanted.
+
+"I know.  We'll look it up in the dictionary some day when we're in
+town.  Here's ten dollars for your trip.  If you need more, Kennedy
+will give it to you."
+
+Sundown departed, thrilled with the thought that his employer had
+placed so much confidence in him.  He wanted to write a poem, but
+circumstances forbade his signaling to his muse.  On his way to the
+bunk-house he hesitated and retraced his steps to the ranch office.
+Corliss told him to come in.  He approached his employer deferentially
+as though about to ask a favor.
+
+"Say, boss," he began, "they's two things just hit me to onct.  Can I
+take Chance with me?"
+
+"If you like.  Part of your trip will be on the train."
+
+"I can fix that.  Then I was thinkin': No! my hoss is lame.  I got to
+ride a strange hoss, which I'm gettin' kind o' used to.  But if you'll
+keep your eye on my hoss while I'm gone, it'll ease me mind
+considerable.  You see he's been with me reg'lar and ain't learned no
+bad tricks.  If the boys know I'm gone and get to learnin' him about
+buckin' and bitin' the arm offen a guy and kickin' a guy's head off and
+rollin' on him, and rarin' up and stompin' him, like some, they's no
+tellin' what might happen when I get back."
+
+Corliss laughed outright.  "That's so.  But I guess the boys will be
+busy enough without monkeying with your cayuse.  If you put that
+homestead deal through, you can have any horse on the range except
+Chinook.  You'll need a team, anyway, when you go to ranching."
+
+"Thanks, boss, but I'm gettin' kind of used to Pill."
+
+"Pill?  You mean Phil--Phil Sheridan.  That's your horse's name."
+
+"Mebby.  I did try callin' him 'Phil.'  It went all right when he was
+standin' quiet.  But when he got to goin' I was lucky if I could holler
+just 'Whoa, Pill!'  The 'h' got jarred loose every time.  'Course,
+bein' a puncher now,"--and Sundown threw out his chest,--"it's
+different.  Anyhow, Pill is his name because there ain't anything a doc
+ever give a fella that can stir up your insides worse 'n he can when he
+takes a spell.  Your head hurtin' much?"
+
+"No.  But it will be if you don't get out of here."  And Corliss
+laughed and waved his hand toward the door.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+THE STRANGER
+
+Sundown, maintaining a mysterious and unusual silence, prepared to
+carry out his employer's plans.  His preparations were not extensive.
+First, he polished his silver spurs.  Then he borrowed a coat from one
+of the boys, brushed his Stetson, and with the business instinct of a
+Hebrew offered Hi Wingle nine dollars for a pair of Texas wing chaps.
+The cook, whose active riding-days were over, had no use for the chaps
+and would have gladly given them to Sundown.  The latter's offer of
+nine dollars, however, interested Wingle.  He decided to have a bit of
+fun with the tall one.  He cared nothing for the money, but wondered
+why Sundown had offered nine dollars instead of ten.
+
+"What you been eatin'?" he queried as Sundown made his bid.  "Goin'
+courtin'?"
+
+"Nope," replied the lean one.  "Goin' east."
+
+"Huh!  Expect to ride all the way in them chaps?"
+
+"Nope!  But I need 'em.  Heard you tell Bud you paid ten dollars for
+'em 'way back fifteen years.  Guess they's a dollar's worth worn off of
+'em by now."
+
+"Well, you sure do some close figurin'.  I sure paid ten for 'em.  Got
+'em from a Chola puncher what was hard up.  Mebby you ain't figurin'
+that they's about twenty bucks' worth of hand-worked silver conchas on
+'em which ain't wore off any."
+
+Sundown took this as Wingle's final word.  The amused Hi noted the
+other's disappointment and determined to enhance the value of the chaps
+by making them difficult to obtain, then give them to his assistant.
+Wingle liked Sundown in a rough-shod way, though Sundown was a bit too
+serious-minded to appreciate the fact.
+
+The cook assumed the air of one gravely concerned about his friend's
+mental balance.  "Somethin' sure crawled into your roost, Sun, but if
+you're goin' crazy I suppose a pair of chaps won't make no difference
+either way.  Anyhow, you ain't crazy in your legs--just your head."
+
+"Thanks, Hi.  It's accommodatin' of you to put me wise to myself.  I
+know I ain't so durned smart as some."
+
+"Say, you old fool, can't you take a fall to it that I'm joshin'?  You
+sure are the melancholiest stretch of bones and hide I ever seen.
+Somehow you always make a fella come down to cases every time, with
+that sad-lookin' mug of yourn.  You sure would 'a' made a good
+undertaker.  I'll get them chaps."
+
+And Wingle, fat, bald, and deliberate, chuckled as he dug among his
+belongings and brought forth the coveted riding apparel.  "Them chaps
+has set on some good hosses, if I do say it," he remarked.  "Take 'em
+and keep your nine bucks for life insurance.  You'll need it."
+
+Sundown grinned like a boy.  "Nope.  A bargain's a bargain.  Here's the
+money.  Mebby you could buy a fust-class cook-book with it and learn
+somethin'."
+
+"Learn somethin'!  Why, you long-geared, double-jointed, glass-eyed,
+hay-topped, star-smellin' st-st-steeple, you!  Get out o' this afore I
+break my neck tryin' to see your face!  Set down so I can look you in
+the eye!"  And Wingle waved his stout arms and glowered in mock anger.
+
+Sundown laid the money on the table.  "Keep the change," he said mildly
+with a twinkle in his eye.
+
+He picked up the chaps and stalked from the bunk-house.  Chance, who
+had been an interested spectator of this lively exchange of compliment
+and merchandise, followed his master to the stable where Sundown at
+once put on the chaps and strutted for the dog's benefit, and his own.
+By degrees he was assuming the characteristics of a genuine
+cow-puncher.  He would show the folks in Antelope what a rider for the
+Concho looked like.
+
+The following morning, much earlier than necessary, he mounted and rode
+to the bunk-house, where Corliss gave him the letter and told him to
+leave the horse at the stables in Antelope until he returned from Usher.
+
+Sundown, stiffened by the importance of his mission, rode straight up,
+looking neither to the right nor to the left until the Concho was far
+behind him.  Then he slouched in the saddle, gazing with a pleased
+expression first at one leather-clad leg and then the other.  For a
+time the wide, free glory of the Arizona morning mesas was forgotten.
+The shadow of his pony walked beside him as the low eastern sun burned
+across the golden levels.  Long silhouettes of fantastic buttes spread
+across the plain.  The sky was cloudless and the crisp thin air
+foretold a hot noon.  The gaunt rider's face beamed with an inner
+light--the light of romance.  What more could a man ask than a good
+horse, a faithful and intelligent dog, a mission of trust, and sixty
+undisturbed miles of wondrous upland o'er which to journey, fancy-free
+and clad in cowboy garb?  Nothing more--except--and Sundown realized
+with a slight sensation of emptiness that he had forgotten to eat
+breakfast.  He had plenty to eat in his saddle-bags, but he put the
+temptation to refresh himself aside as unworthy, for the nonce, of his
+higher self.  Naturally the pent-up flood of verse that had been
+oppressing him of late surged up and filled his mind with vague and
+poignant fancies.  His love for animals, despite his headlong
+experiences on the Concho, was unimpaired, so to speak.  He patted the
+neck of the rangy roan which he bestrode, and settled himself to the
+serious task of expressing his inner-most being in verse.  He dipped
+deep into the Pierian springs, and poesy broke forth.  But not,
+however, until he had "cinched up," as he mentally termed it, the
+saddle of his Pegasus of the mesas.
+
+Sundown paused and called the attention of his horse to the last line.
+
+He hesitated, harking back for his climax.  "Jing!" he exclaimed, "it's
+the durndest thing to put a finish on a piece of po'try!  You get to
+goin' and she goes fine.  Then you commence to feel that you're comin'
+to the end and nacherally you asks yourself what's the end goin' to be
+like.  Fust thing you're stompin' around in your head upsettin' all
+that you writ tryin' to rope somethin' to put on the tail-end of the
+parade that'll show up strong.  Kind o' like ropin' a steer.  No
+tellin' where that pome is goin' to land you."
+
+Sundown was more than pleased with himself.  He again recited the verse
+as he plodded along, fixing it in his memory for the future edification
+of his compatriots of the Concho.
+
+"The best thing I ever writ!" he assured himself.  "Fust thing I know
+they'll be puttin' me in one of them doxologies for keeps.  'Sundown
+Slim, The Poet of the Mesas!'  Sounds good to me.  Reckon that's why I
+never seen a woman that I wanted to get married to.  Writin' po'try
+kind of detracted me mind from love.  Guess I could love a woman if she
+wouldn't laugh at me for bein' so dog-goned lengthy.  She would have to
+be a small one, though, so as she'd be kind o' scared o' me bein' so
+big.  Then mebby we could get along pretty good.  'Course, I wouldn't
+like her to be scared all the time, but jest kind o' respectable-like
+to me.  Them's the best kind.  Mebby I'll ketch one some day.  Now
+there goes that Chance after a rabbit ag'in.  He's a long piece
+off--jest can hardly see him except somethin' movin'.  Well, if he
+comes back as quick as he went, he'll be here soon."  And Sundown
+jogged along, spur-chains jingling a fairy tune to his oral soliloquies.
+
+Aside from forgetting to have breakfast that morning, he had made a
+pretty fair beginning.  He was well on his way, had composed a
+roan-colored lyric of the ranges, discoursed on the subject of love,
+and had set his spirit free to meander in the realms of imagination.
+Yet his spirit swept back to him with a rush of wings and a question.
+Why not get married?  And "Gee!  Gosh!" he ejaculated, startled by the
+abruptness of the thought.  "Now I like hosses and dogs and folks, but
+livin' with hosses and dogs ain't like livin' with folks.  If hosses
+and dogs take to you, they think you're the whole thing.  But wimmen is
+different.  If they take to you--why, they think they're the whole
+thing jest because they landed you.  I dunno!  Jest bein' good to folks
+ain't everything, either.  But bein' good to hosses and dogs is.
+Funny.  I dunno, though.  You either got to understand 'em and be rough
+to 'em, or be good to 'em and then they understand you.  Guess they
+ain't no regular guide-book on how to git along with wimmen.  Well, I
+never come West for me health.  I brung it with me, but I ain't goin'
+to take chances by fallin' in love.  Writin' po'try is wearin' enough."
+
+For a while he rode silently, enjoying his utter freedom.  But
+followers of Romance must ever be minute-men, armed and equipped to
+answer her call with instant readiness and grace.  Lacking, perhaps,
+the grace, nevertheless Sundown was loyal to his sovereign mistress, in
+proof of which he again sat straight in the saddle, stirred to speech
+by hidden voices.  "Now, take it like I was wearin' a hard-boiled hat
+and a collar and buttin shoes, like the rest of them sports.  Why, that
+wouldn't ketch the eye of some likely-lookin' lady wantin' to get
+married.  Nix!  When I hit town it's me for the big smoke and me
+picture on the front page, standin' with me faithful dog and a lot of
+them fat little babies without any clothes on, but wings, flyin' around
+the edge of me picture and down by me boots and up around me hat--and
+in big letters she'll say: 'Romance of A Cowboy.  Western Cattle King
+in Search for his Long-lost Sweetheart.  Sundown, once one of our
+Leading Hoboes, now a Wealthy Rancher, visits the Metrokolis on
+Mysterious Errand.'  Huh!  I guess mebby that wouldn't ketch a good
+one, mebby with money."
+
+But the proverbial fly must appear in the equally proverbial amber.
+"'Bout as clost as them papers ever come to it," he soliloquized.
+"Anyhow, if she was the wrong one, and not me long-lost affiniky, and
+was to get stuck on me shape and these here chaps and spurs, reckon I
+could tell her that the papers made the big mistake, and that me
+Mexican wife does the cookin' with a bread-knife in her boot-leg, and
+that I never had no Mormon ideas, nohow.  That ought to sound kind o'
+home-like, and let her down easy and gentle.  I sure don't want to get
+sent down for breakin' the wimmen's hearts, so I got to be durned
+careful."
+
+So immersed was he in his imaginings that he did not at once realize
+that his horse had stopped and was leisurely grazing at the edge of the
+trail.  Chance, who had been running ahead, swung back in a wide circle
+and barked impatiently.  Sundown awakened to himself.  "Here, you red
+hoss, this ain't no pie-contest.  We got to hit the water-hole afore
+dark."  Once more in motion, he reverted to his old theme, but with
+finality in his tone.  "I guess mebby I can't tell them reporters
+somethin' about me hotel out here on the desert!  'The only prevailable
+road-house between Antelope and the Concho, run by the retired
+cattle-king, Sundown Slim.'  Sounds good to me.  Mebby I could work up
+a trade by advertisin' to some of them Eastern folks that eats nothin'
+tougher for breakfast than them quakin'-oats and buns and coffee.  Get
+along, you red hoss."
+
+About six o'clock that evening Sundown arrived at the deserted ranch.
+He unsaddled and led the horse to water.  Then he picketed him for the
+night.  Returning, he prepared a meal and ate heartily.  Just as the
+light faded from the dusty windows, Chance, who was curled in a corner,
+rose and growled.  Sundown strode to the door.  The dog followed,
+sniffing along the crack.  Presently Sundown heard the shuffling tread
+of a horse plodding through the sand.  He swung open the door and stood
+peering into the dusk.  He saw a horseman dismount and enter the
+gateway.  Chance again bristled and growled.  Sundown restrained him.
+
+"Hello, there!  That you, Jack?"
+
+"Nope.  It's me--Sundown from the Concho."
+
+"Concho, eh?  Was headed that way myself.  Saw the dog.  Thought mebby
+it was Jack's dog."
+
+"Goin' to stop?" queried Sundown as the other advanced, leading his
+horse.
+
+"Guess I'll have to.  Don't fancy riding at night.  Getting too old."
+And the short, genial-faced stranger laughed heartily.
+
+"Well, they's plenty room.  Had your supper?"
+
+"No, but I got some chuck along with me.  Got a match?"
+
+Sundown produced matches.  The other rolled a cigarette and studied
+Sundown's face covertly in the glow of the match.  In the flare Sundown
+beheld a thick-set, rather short-necked man, smooth-shaven, and of a
+ruddy countenance.  He also noticed that the stranger wore a coat, and
+at once surmised that he was neither cowboy nor herder.
+
+"Guess I'll stake out the hoss," said the man.  "See you later."
+
+Chance, who had stood with head lowered and neck outstretched, whined
+and leaped up at Sundown, standing with paws on his master's chest and
+vainly endeavoring to tell him something.  The dog's eyes were eloquent
+and intense.
+
+Sundown patted him.  "It's all right, Chance.  That guy's all right.
+Guess I know a good face when I see one.  What's the matter, anyway?"
+
+Chance dropped to his feet and stalked to his corner.  He settled
+himself with a lugubrious sigh, as though unwillingly relinquishing his
+responsibilities in the matter.
+
+When the stranger returned, Sundown had a fire going.  "Feels good,"
+commented the man, rubbing his hands and surveying the room in the glow
+that flared up as he lifted the stove-lid.  "On your way in?"
+
+"Me?  Nope.  I'm goin' to Antelope."
+
+"So?  Is Jack Corliss hurt bad?"
+
+"He was kind o' shook up for a couple of days.  Guess he's gettin'
+along all right now.  Reckon you heard what somebody done to Fadeaway."
+
+The stranger nodded.  "They got him, all right.  Knew Fade pretty well
+myself.  Guess I'll eat.--That coffee of yours was good, all right," he
+said as he finished eating.  He reached for the coffee-pot and tipped
+it.  "She's plumb empty."
+
+"I'll fill her," volunteered Sundown, obligingly.
+
+As he disappeared in the darkness, the stranger stepped to the rear
+door of the room and opened it.  Then he closed the door and stooping
+laid his saddle and blankets against it.  "He can't make a break that
+way," he said to himself.  As Sundown came in, the man noticed that the
+front door creaked shrilly when opened or closed and seemed pleased
+with the fact.  "Too bad about Fadeaway," he said, helping himself to
+more coffee.  "Wonder who got him?"
+
+"I dunno.  I found me boss with his head busted the same day they got
+Fade."
+
+"Been riding for the Concho long?"
+
+"That ain't no joke, if you're meanin' feet and inches."
+
+The other laughed.  His eyes twinkled in the ruddy glow of the stove.
+Suddenly he straightened his shoulders and appeared to be listening.
+"It's the hosses," he said finally.  "Some coyote's fussin' around
+bothering 'em.  It's a long way from home as the song goes.  Lend me
+your gun and I'll go see if I can plug one of 'em and stop their
+yipping."
+
+Sundown presented his gun to the stranger, who slid it between trousers
+and shirt at the waist-band.  "Don't hear 'em now," he announced
+finally.  "Well, guess I'll roll in."
+
+Strangely enough, he had apparently forgotten to return the gun.
+Sundown, undecided whether to ask for it or not, finally spread his
+blankets and called Chance to him.  The dog curled at his master's
+feet.  Save for the diminishing crackle of dry brush in the stove, the
+room was still.  Evidently the ruddy-faced individual was asleep.
+Vaguely troubled by the stranger's failure to return his gun, Sundown
+drifted to sleep, not for an instant suspecting that he was virtually
+the prisoner of the sheriff of Apache County, who had at Loring's
+instigation determined to arrest the erstwhile tramp for the murder of
+Fadeaway.  The sheriff had his own theory as to the killing and his
+theory did not for a moment include Sundown as a possible suspect, but
+he had a good, though unadvertised, reason for holding him.  Accustomed
+to dealing with frontier folk, he argued that Sundown's imprisonment
+would eventually bring to light evidence leading to the identity of the
+murderer.  It was a game of bluff, and at such a game he played a
+master hand.
+
+
+The stranger seemed unusually affable in the morning.  He made the
+fire, and, before Sundown had finished eating, had the two ponies
+saddled and ready for the road.  Sundown thought him a little too
+agreeable.  He was even more perplexed when the man said that he had
+changed his mind and would ride to Antelope with him.  "Thought you
+said you was goin' to the Concho?"
+
+"Well, seeing you say Jack can't ride yet, guess I'll wait."
+
+"He can talk, all right," asserted Sundown.
+
+The other paid no apparent attention to this remark but rode along
+pointing out landmarks and discoursing largely upon the weather, the
+feed, and price of hay and grain and a hundred topics associated with
+ranch-life.  Sundown, forgetful of his pose as a vaquero of long
+standing (unintentional), assumed rather the attitude of one absorbing
+information on such topics than disseminating it.  Nor did he
+understand the stranger's genial invitation to have supper with him at
+Antelope that night, as they rode into the town.  He knew, however,
+that he was creating a sensation, which he attributed to his Mexican
+spurs and chaps.  People stared at him as he stalked down the street
+and turned to stare again.  His companion seemed very well known in
+Antelope.  Nearly every one spoke to him or waved a greeting.  Yet
+there was something peculiar in their attitudes.  There was an
+aloofness about them that was puzzling.
+
+"He sure looks like the bad man from Coyote Gulch," remarked one who
+stood in front of "The Last Chance" saloon.
+
+"He ain't heeled," asserted the speaker's companion.
+
+"Heeled!  Do you reckon Jim's plumb loco?  Jim took care of that."
+
+All of which was music to Sundown.  He was making an impression, yet he
+was not altogether happy.  He did not object to being classed as a bad
+man so long as he knew at heart that he was anything but that.  Still,
+he was rather proud of his instant notoriety.
+
+They stopped in front of a square, one-story building.  Sundown's
+companion unlocked the door.  "Come on in," he said.  "We'll have a
+smoke and talk things over."
+
+"But I was to see Mr. Kennedy the lawyer," asserted Sundown.
+
+"So?  Well, it ain't quite time to see him yet."
+
+Sundown's back became cold and he stared at the stranger with eyes that
+began to see the drift of things.  "You ain't a cop, be you?" he asked
+timorously.
+
+"They call it 'sheriff' here."
+
+"Well, I call it kind o' warm and I'm goin' outside."
+
+"I wouldn't.  One of my deputies is sitting just across the street.
+He's a mighty good shot.  Can beat me hands down.  Suppose you drop
+back in your chair and tell me what you know about the shooting of
+Fadeaway."
+
+"Me?  You ain't joshin', be you?"
+
+"Never more serious in my life!  I'm interested in this case."
+
+"Well, I ain't!" was Sundown's prompt remark.  "And I got to go.  I'm
+goin' on privut business for me boss and confidenshell.  Me and Chance."
+
+"That's all right, my friend.  But I have some private and confidential
+business that can't wait."
+
+"But I ain't done nothin'," whined Sundown, lapsing into his old
+attitude toward the law.
+
+"Maybe not.  Mr. Loring telephoned me that Fadeaway had been shot and
+that a man answering your description--a tramp, he said--seemed to know
+something about it.  You never was a puncher.  You don't get on or off
+a cayuse like one.  From what I learn you were a Hobo when Jack Corliss
+gave you a job.  That's none of my business.  I arrest you as a
+suspicious character, and I guess I'll have to keep you here till I
+find out more about Fadeaway's case.  Have a cigar?"
+
+"Huh!  Say, don't you ever get mad?" queried Sundown, impressed by the
+other's most genial attitude.
+
+The sheriff laughed.  "Doesn't pay in my business.  Now, you just ease
+up and tell me what you know.  It will save time.  Did you ever have
+trouble with Fadeaway?"
+
+"Not on your life!  I give him all the room he wanted."
+
+"Did you know Fernando---one of Loring's herders?"
+
+"I seen him onct.  He saved me life from bein' killed by a steer.  Did
+he say I done it?" parried Sundown.
+
+The sheriff's opinion of Sundown's acumen was disturbed.  Evidently
+this queer individual posing as a cowboy was not such a fool, after all.
+
+"No.  Have you seen him lately?"
+
+"Nope.  Chance and me was over to his camp, but he was gone.  We kind
+o' tracked back there from the place where we found Fadeaway."
+
+"That so?"
+
+"Uhuh.  It was like this."  And Sundown gave a detailed account of his
+explorations.
+
+When he had finished, the sheriff made a note on the edge of a
+newspaper.  Then he turned to Sundown.  "You're either the deepest hand
+I've tackled yet, or you're just a plain fool.  You don't act like a
+killer."
+
+"Killer!  Say, mister, I wouldn't kill a bug that was bitin' me 'less'n
+he wouldn't let go.  Why, ask Chance there!"
+
+"I wish that dog could talk," said the sheriff, smiling.  "Did you know
+that old Fernando had left the country--crossed the line into New
+Mexico?"
+
+"What?  Him?"
+
+"Yes.  I know about where he is."
+
+"Guess his boss fired him for lettin' all the sheep get killed.  Guess
+he had to go somewhere."
+
+The sheriff nodded.  "So you were going to take a little trip yourself,
+were you?"
+
+"For me boss.  You ask him.  He can tell you."
+
+"I reckon when he finds out where you are he'll come in."
+
+"And you're goin' to pinch me?"
+
+"You're pinched."
+
+"Well, I'm dum clost to gettin' mad.  You look here!  Do you think I'd
+be ridin' to Antelope if I done anything like shoot a man?  Do you
+think I'd hand you me gun without sayin' a word?  And if you think I
+didn't shoot Fadeaway, what in hell you pinchin' me for?  Ain't a guy
+got a right to live?"
+
+"Yes.  Fadeaway had a right to live."
+
+"Well, I sure never wanted to see him cross over.  That's the way with
+you cops.  If a fella is a Bo, he gets pinched, anyhow.  If he quits
+bein' a Bo and goes to workin' at somethin', then he gets pinched for
+havin' been a Bo onct.  I been livin' honest and peaceful-like and
+straight--and I get pinched.  Do you wonder a Bo gets tired of tryin'
+to brace up?"
+
+"Can't say that I do.  Got to leave you now.  I'll fix you up
+comfortable in here."  And the sheriff unlocked the door leading to the
+one-room jail.  "I'll talk it over with you in the morning.  The wife
+and kid will sure be surprised to see me back, so I'll mosey down home
+before somebody scares her to death telling her I'm back in town.
+So-long."
+
+Sundown sat on the narrow bed and gazed at the four walls of the room.
+"Wife and kid!" he muttered.  "Well, I reckon he's got a right to have
+'em.  Gee Gosh!  Wonder if he'll feed Chance!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+THE SHERIFF AND OTHERS
+
+Chance, disconsolate, wandered about Antelope, returning at last to lie
+before the door of the sheriff's office.  The sheriff, having
+reestablished himself, for the nonce, in the bosom of his family,
+strolled out to the street.  He called to Chance, who dashed toward
+him, then stopped with neck bristling.
+
+The sheriff's companion laughed.  "I was going to feed him," explained
+the sheriff.
+
+"I know what I'd feed him," growled his companion.
+
+"What for?  He's faithful to his boss--and that's something."
+
+The other grunted and they passed up the street.  Groups of men waylaid
+them asking questions.  As they drifted from one group to another, the
+friend remarked that his companion seemed to be saying little.  The
+stout sheriff smiled.  He was listening.
+
+Chance, aware that something was wrong, fretted around the door of
+Sundown's temporary habitation.  Finally he threw himself down, nose on
+outstretched paws, and gazed at the lights and the men across the way.
+Later, when the town had become dark and silent, the dog rose, shook
+himself, and padded down the highway taking the trail for the Concho.
+He knew that his master's disappearance had not been voluntary.  He
+also knew that his own appearance alone at the Concho would be evidence
+that something had gone wrong.
+
+Once well outside the town, Chance settled to a long, steady stride
+that ate into the miles.  At the water-hole he leaped the closed gate
+and drank.  Again upon the road he swung along across the starlit
+mesas, taking the hills at a trot and pausing on each rise to rest and
+sniff the midnight air.  Then down the slopes he raced, and out across
+the levels, the great bunching muscles of his flanks and shoulders
+working tirelessly.  As dawn shimmered across the ford he trotted down
+the mud-bank and waded into the stream, where he stood shoulder-deep
+and lapped the cool water.
+
+Corliss, early afoot, found him curled at the front door of the
+ranch-house.  Chance braced himself on his fore legs and yawned.  Then
+stretching he rose and, frisking about Corliss, tried to make himself
+understood.  Corliss glanced toward the corral, half expecting to see
+Sundown's horse.  Then he stepped to the men's quarters.  He greeted
+Wingle, asking him if Sundown had returned.
+
+"No.  Thought he went east."
+
+"Chance came back, alone."
+
+And Corliss and the cook eyed each other simultaneously and nodded.
+
+"Loring," said Wingle.
+
+"Guess you're right, Hi."
+
+"Sheriff must 'a' been out of town and got back just in time to meet up
+with Sundown," suggested Wingle.  And he seized a scoop and dug into
+the flour barrel.
+
+
+An hour later the buckboard stood at the ranch gate.  Bud Shoop,
+crooning a range-ditty that has not as yet disgraced an anthology,
+stood flicking the rear wheel with his whip:--
+
+
+  "Oh, that biscuit-shooter on the Santa Fé,
+    --Hot coffee, ham-and-eggs, huckleberry pies,--
+  Got every lonely puncher that went down that way
+    With her yella-bird hair and them big blue eyes . . .
+
+  "For a two-bit feed and a two-bit smile . . ."
+
+
+The song was interrupted by the appearance of Corliss, who swung to the
+seat and took the reins.
+
+"I'll jog 'em for a while," he said as Shoop climbed beside him.  "Go
+ahead, Bud.  Don't mind me."
+
+Shoop laughed and gestured over his shoulder.  "Chance, there, is
+sleepin' with both fists this lovely mornin'.  Wonder how Sun is makin'
+it?"
+
+"We'll find out," said Corliss, shaking his head.
+
+"Believe us!  For we're goin' to town!  Say, ain't you kind of offerin'
+Jim Banks a chance to get you easy?"
+
+"If he wants to.  If he locked Sundown up, he made the wrong move."
+
+"It's easy!" said Shoop, gesturing toward the Loring rancho as they
+passed.  "Goin' to bush at the water-hole to-night?"
+
+"No.  We'll go through."
+
+Shoop whistled.  "Suits me!  And I reckon the team is good for it."
+
+He glanced sideways at Corliss, who sat with eyes fixed straight ahead.
+The cattle-man's face was expressionless.  He was thinking hard and
+fast, but chose to mask it.
+
+Suddenly Shoop, who had watched him some little time, burst into song.
+"Suits me!" he reiterated, more or less ambiguously, by the way, for he
+had just concluded another ornate stanza of the "Biscuit-shooter" lyric.
+
+"It's a real song," remarked Corliss.
+
+"Well, now!" exclaimed Shoop.  And thereafter he also became silent,
+knowing from experience that when Corliss had anything worth while to
+say, he would say it.
+
+About noon they reached the water-hole where Corliss spent some time
+examining the fences and inspecting the outbuildings.
+
+"She's in right good shape yet," commented Shoop.
+
+"The title has reverted to the State.  It's queer Loring hasn't tried
+to file on it."
+
+"Mebby he's used his homestead right a'ready," suggested Shoop.  "But
+Nell Loring could file."
+
+They climbed back into the buckboard.  Again Shoop began a stanza of
+his ditty.  He seemed well pleased about something.  Possibly he
+realized that his employer's attitude had changed; that he had at last
+awakened to the obvious necessity for doing something.  As Corliss put
+the team to a brisk trot the foreman's song ran high.  Action was his
+element.  Inactivity tended to make him more or less cynical, and ate
+into his tobacco money.
+
+Suddenly Corliss turned to him.  "Bud, I'm going to homestead that
+ranch."
+
+"Whoop!" cried the foreman.  "First shot at the buck!"
+
+"I'm going to put Sundown on it, for himself.  He's steady and wouldn't
+hurt a fly."
+
+Shoop became silent.  He, in turn, stared straight ahead.
+
+"What do you think of it?" queried Corliss.
+
+"Nothin'.  'Cept I wouldn't mind havin' a little ole homestead myself."
+
+Corliss laughed.  "You're not cut out for it, Bud.  You mean you'd like
+the chance to make the water-hole a base for operations against Loring.
+And the place isn't worth seed, Bud."
+
+"But that water is goin' to be worth somethin'--and right soon.  Loring
+can't graze over this side the Concho, if he can't get to water."
+
+"That's it.  If I put you on that ranch, you'd stand off Loring's
+outfit to the finish, I guess."
+
+"I sure would."
+
+"That's why I want Sundown to take it up.  He'd let his worst enemy
+water sheep or cattle there.  He won't fight, but he's loyal enough to
+my interests to sue Loring for trespass, if necessary."
+
+"See you and raise you one, Jack.  They'll bluff Sun clean off his hind
+feet.  He won't stick."
+
+"I'll chance it, Bud.  And, besides, I need you right where you are."
+
+"I'm sure happy!" exclaimed the irrepressible Bud, grinning.
+
+Corliss laughed, then shook his head.  "I'll tell you one thing," he
+said, facing his foreman.  "I've been 'tending too many irons and some
+of 'em are getting cold.  I don't want trouble with any one.  I've held
+off from Loring because--oh--because I had a good reason to say
+nothing.  Billy's out of it again.  The coast is clear, and I'm going
+to give old man Loring the fight of his life."
+
+The whoop which Shoop let out startled the team into a lunging gallop.
+"Go it, if you want to!" said Corliss as the buckboard swung around a
+turn and took the incline toward Antelope.  "I'm in a hurry myself."
+
+Nevertheless, he saved the team as they struck the level and held them
+to a trot.  "Wise old head," was Shoop's inward comment.  And then
+aloud: "Say, Jack, I ain't sayin' I'm glad to see you get beat up, but
+that bing on the head sure got you started right.  The boys was
+commencin' to wonder how long you'd stand it without gettin' your back
+up.  She's up.  I smell smoke."
+
+
+At Antelope, Shoop put up the horses.  Later he joined his employer and
+they had supper at the hotel.  Then they strolled out and down the
+street toward the sheriff's home.  When they knocked at the door it was
+opened by a plump, dark-eyed woman who greeted them heartily.
+
+"Come right in, boys.  Jim's tendin' the baby."  And she took their
+hats.
+
+They stepped to the adjoining room where Sheriff Jim sat on the floor,
+his coat off, while his youngest deputy, clad only in an abbreviated
+essential garnished with a safety-pin, sat opposite, gravely tearing up
+the evening paper and handing the pieces to his proud father, who
+stuffed the pieces in his pants pocket and cheerfully asked for more.
+
+"Election?" queried Shoop.
+
+"And all coming Jim's way," commented Corliss.
+
+The baby paused in his balloting and solemnly surveyed the dusty
+strangers.  Then he pulled a piece of paper from his father's pocket
+and offered it to Shoop.  "Wants me to vote, the little cuss!  Well,
+here goes."  And, albeit unfamiliar with plump aborigines at close
+range, the foreman entered into the spirit of the game and cast his
+vote for the present incumbent, deputizing the "yearlin'" to handle the
+matter.  The yearling however, evidently thought it was time for a
+recount.  He gravitated to the perspiring candidate and, standing on
+his hands and feet,--an attitude which seemingly caused him no
+inconvenience,--reached in the ballot-box and pulling therefrom a
+handful of votes he cast them ceiling-ward with a shrill laugh,
+followed by an unintelligible spluttering as he sat down suddenly and
+began to pick up the scattered pieces of paper.
+
+"You're elected," announced Shoop.
+
+And the by-play was understood by the three men, yet each maintained
+his unchanged expression of countenance.
+
+"You see how I'm fixed, boys," said the sheriff.  "Got to stick by my
+constituent or he'll howl."
+
+"We're in no hurry, Jim.  Just drove into town to look around a little."
+
+"I'll take him now," said Mrs. Jim, as she came from the kitchen drying
+her hands on her apron.
+
+The elector, however, was of a different mind.  He greeted his mother
+with a howl and a series of windmill revolutions of his arms and legs
+as she caught him up.
+
+"Got mighty free knee-action," remarked Shoop.  "Mebby when he's bedded
+down for the night you can come over to the 'Palace.'"
+
+"I'll be right with you."  And the sheriff slipped into his coat.  "How
+you feeling, Jack?"
+
+"Pretty good.  That's a great boy of yours."
+
+"Sure got your brand," added Shoop.  "Built close to the ground like
+his dad."
+
+Sheriff Banks accepted these hardy compliments with an embarrassed grin
+and followed his guests to the doorway.
+
+"Good-night!" called Mrs. Jim from the obscurity of the bedroom.
+
+"Good-night, ma'am!" from Shoop.
+
+"Good-night!" said Corliss.  "Take good care of that yearling."
+
+"Well, now, John, as if I wouldn't!"
+
+"Molly would come out," apologized Jim, "only the kid is--is grazin'.
+How's the feed holdin' out on the Concho?" which question following in
+natural sequence was not, however, put accidentally.
+
+"Fair," said Corliss.  "We looked for you up that way."
+
+"I was over on the Reservation.  I sent Tom up there to see after
+things," and the sheriff gestured toward the distant Concho.  "Sent him
+up to-night.  Let's go over to the office."
+
+Corliss shook his head.  "Don't want to see him, just now.  Besides, I
+want to say a few things private."
+
+"All right.  There was a buyer from Kansas City dropped in to town
+to-day.  Didn't see him, did you?"
+
+"Cattle?"
+
+"Uhuh."
+
+"No.  We just got in."
+
+They turned and walked up the street, nodding to an occasional lounger,
+laughing and talking easily, yet each knew that their banter was a
+meandering current leading to something deeper which would be sounded
+before they separated.
+
+Sheriff Banks suddenly stopped and slapped his thigh.  "By Gum!  I
+clean forgot to ask if you had chuck.  You see that kid of mine--"
+
+"Sure!  But we put the 'Palace' two feeds to the bad," asserted Shoop.
+
+They drifted to the hotel doorway and paused at the counter where each
+gravely selected a cigar.  Then they clumped upstairs to Corliss's
+room.  Jim Banks straddled a chair and faced his friends.
+
+Shoop, excusing himself with humorous politeness, punched the pillows
+together and lay back on the bed which creaked and rustled beneath his
+weight.  "These here corn-husk mattresses is apologizin'," he said,
+twisting around and leaning on his elbow.
+
+"Well, Jack," said the smiling sheriff, "shoot the piece."
+
+"Or the justice of the peace--don't matter," murmured Shoop.
+
+Corliss, leaning forward, gazed at the end of his cigar.  Then he
+raised his eyes.  "Jim," he said quietly, "I want Sundown."
+
+"So do I."
+
+Corliss smiled.  "You've got him, all right.  What's your idea?"
+
+"Well, if anybody else besides you asked me, Jack, they'd be wasting
+time.  Sundown is your man.  I don't know anything about him except he
+was a Hobo before he hit the Concho.  But I happen to know that he was
+pretty close to the place where Fadeaway got his, the same day and
+about the same time.  I've listened to all the talk around town and it
+hasn't all been friendly to you.  You can guess that part of it."
+
+"If you want me--" began Corliss.
+
+"No."  And the sheriff's gesture of negation spread a film of cigar-ash
+on the floor.  "It's the other man I want."
+
+"Sundown?" asked Shoop, sitting up suddenly.
+
+"You go to sleep, Bud," laughed the sheriff.  "You can't catch me that
+easy."
+
+Shoop relaxed with the grin of a school-boy.
+
+"I'll go bail," offered Corliss.
+
+"No.  That would spoil my plan.  See here, Jack, I know you and Bud
+won't talk.  Loring telephoned me to look out for Sundown.  I did.
+Now, Loring knows who shot Fadeaway, or I miss my guess.  Nellie Loring
+knows, too.  So do you, but you can't prove it.  It was like Fade to
+put Loring's sheep into the caņon, but we can't prove even that, now.
+I'm pretty sure your scrap with Fade didn't have anything to do with
+his getting shot.  You ain't that kind."
+
+"Well, here's my side of it, Jim.  Fadeaway had it in for me for firing
+him.  He happened to see me talking to Nellie Loring at Fernando's
+camp.  Later we met up on the old Blue Trail.  He said one or two
+things that I didn't like.  I let him have it with the butt of my
+quirt.  He jerked out his gun and hit me a clip on the head.  That's
+all I remember till the boys came along."
+
+"You didn't ride as far as the upper ford, that day?"
+
+"No.  I told Fadeaway I wanted him to come back with me and talk to
+Loring.  I was pretty sure he put the sheep into the caņon."
+
+"Well, Jack, knowing you since you were a boy, that's good enough for
+me."
+
+"But how about Sundown?"
+
+"He stays.  How long do you think I'll hold Sundown before Nell Loring
+drives into Antelope to tell me she can like as not prove he didn't
+kill Fade?"
+
+"But if you know that, why do you hold him?"
+
+"To cinch up my ideas, tight.  Holding him will make talk.  Folks
+always like to show off what they know about such things.  It's natural
+in 'em."
+
+"New Mex. is a comf'table-sized State," commented Shoop from the bed.
+
+"And he was raised there," said the sheriff.  "He's got friends over
+the line and so have I.  Sent 'em over last week."
+
+"Thought Sun was raised back East?" said Shoop, again sitting up.
+
+Corliss smiled.  "Better give it up, Bud."
+
+"Oh, _very_ well!" said Shoop, mimicking a _grande dame_ who had once
+stopped at Antelope in search for local color.  "Anyhow, you got to set
+a Mexican to catch a Mexican when he's hidin' out with Mexicans."  With
+this bit of advice, Shoop again relapsed to silence.
+
+"Going back to the Concho to-morrow?" queried Banks.
+
+"No.  Got a little business in town."
+
+"I heard Loring was due here to-morrow."  The sheriff stated this
+casually, yet with intent.  "I was talking with Art Kennedy 'bout two
+hours ago--"
+
+"Kennedy the land-shark?" queried Shoop.
+
+"The same.  He said something about expecting Loring."
+
+Bud Shoop had never aspired to the distinction of being called a
+diplomat, but he had an active and an aggressive mind.  With the
+instinct for seizing the main chance by its time-honored forelock, he
+rose swiftly.  "By Gravy, Jack!  I gone and left them things in the
+buckboard!"
+
+"Oh, they'll be all right," said Corliss easily.  Then he caught his
+foreman's eye and read its meaning.  His nod to Shoop was all but
+imperceptible.
+
+"I dunno, Jack.  I'd hate to lose them notes."
+
+"Notes?"  And the sheriff grinned.  "Writing a song or starting a bank,
+Bud?"
+
+"Song.  I was composin' it to Jack, drivin' in."  And the genial Bud
+grabbed his hat and swept out of the room.
+
+Long before he returned, Sheriff Jim had departed puzzling over the
+foreman's sudden exit until he came opposite "The Last Chance" saloon.
+There he had an instant glimpse of Bud and the one known as Kennedy
+leaning against the bar and conversing with much gusto.  Then the
+swing-door dropped into place.  The sheriff smiled and putting two and
+two together found that they made four, as is usually the case.  He had
+wanted to let Corliss know that Loring was coming to Antelope and to
+let him know casually, and glean from the knowledge anything that might
+be of value.  Sheriff Banks knew a great deal more about the affairs of
+the distant ranchers than he was ordinarily given credit for.  He had
+long wondered why Corliss had not taken up the water-hole homestead.
+
+Corliss was in bed when Shoop swaggered in.  The foreman did a few
+steps of a jig, flung his hat in the corner, and proceeded to undress.
+
+"Did you see Kennedy?" yawned Corliss.
+
+"Bet your whiskers I did!  Got the descriptions in my pocket.  You owe
+me the price of seven drinks, Jack, to say nothin' of what I took
+myself.  Caught him at 'The Last Chance' and let on I was the pore
+lonely cowboy with a sufferin' thirst.  Filled him up with
+'Look-out-I'm-Comin'' and landed him at his shack, where he dug up them
+ole water-hole descriptions, me helpin' promiscus.  He kind o' bucked
+when I ast him for them papers.  Said he only had one copy that he was
+holdin' for another party.  And I didn't have to strain my guesser any,
+to guess who.  I told him to saw off and get busy quick or I'd have him
+pinched for playin' favorites.  Guess he seen I meant business, for he
+come acrost.  She toots for Antelope six-forty tomorrow mornin'.  This
+is where I make the grand play as a homesteader, seein' pore Sundown's
+eatin' on the county.  Kind o' had a hunch that way."
+
+"We'll have to nail it quick.  If you file you'll have to quit on the
+Concho."
+
+"Well, then, I quit.  Sinker is right in line for my bunk.  Me for the
+big hammer and the little ole sign what says: 'Private property!  Keep
+off!  All trespassers will be executed!'  And underneath, kind o'
+sassy-like, 'Bud Shoop, proprietor.'"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+THE ESCAPE
+
+About midnight Corliss and his foreman were awakened by a cry of
+"Fire!"  They scrambled from bed and pawed around in the dark for their
+clothes.
+
+"Spontinuous conibustication," said Shoop, with a yawn.  "A Jew
+clothin'-store and a insurance-policy.  Wonder who's ablaze?"
+
+"I can see from here," said Corliss at the window.  "Keep on dressing,
+Bud, it's the sheriff's office!"
+
+"Sundown!" Shoop exclaimed, dancing about inelegantly with one foot
+halfway down his pants-leg.
+
+They tramped down the stairs and ran across to the blazing building.  A
+group of half-dressed citizens were passing buckets and dashing their
+final and ineffectual contents against the spouting flames.
+
+"He's sure done on both sides if he's in there," remarked Shoop.  He
+ran around to the back of the jail and called loudly on Sundown.
+Jumping, he caught the high wooden bars of the window and peered into
+the rear room.  A rivulet of flame crept along the door that led from
+the jail to the office.  The room seemed to be empty.  Shoop dropped to
+the ground and strolled around to the front.  "Tryin' to save the
+buildin' or the prisoner?" he asked of a sweating bucket-passer.
+
+The man paused for a second, slopping water on his boots and gazing
+about excitedly.  "Hey, boys!" he shouted.  "Get an axe and chop open
+the back!  The long gent is roastin' to death in there!"
+
+"And I reckon that'll keep 'em busy while Sun fans it," soliloquized
+Shoop.  "Hello, Jack!"  And he beckoned to Corliss.  "He ain't in
+there," he whispered, "But how he got out, gets me!"
+
+"We might as well go back to bed," said Corliss.  "They'll get him,
+anyway.  There's one of Jim's deputies on a cayuse now."
+
+"Where do you reckon he'll head for?"
+
+"Don't know, Bud.  If he heads for the water-hole, they'll get him in
+no time."
+
+"Think he set her on fire?"
+
+"Maybe he dropped a cigarette.  I don't think he'd risk it, on purpose."
+
+Shoop glanced at his watch, tilting it toward the light of the flames.
+"It's just one.  Hello!  There comes the agent.  Reckon he thought the
+station was afire."
+
+"Guess not.  He's lighting up.  Must be a special going to stop."
+
+"He's sure set the red.  Say, I'm goin' over to see.  Wait a minute."
+
+Shoop followed the agent into the station.  Presently the foreman
+reappeared and beckoned to Corliss.  "Listen, Jack!  Reddy says he's
+got some runnin' orders for the Flyer and she's got to stop to get 'em.
+That means we can eat breakfast in Usher, 'stead of here.  No tellin'
+who'll be on the six-forty headed for the same place, tomorrow mornin'."
+
+Corliss pondered.  His plan of homesteading the water-hole ranch had
+been upset by the arrest of Sundown.  Still, that was no reason for
+giving up the plan.  From Shoop's talk with Kennedy, the lawyer, it was
+evident that Loring had his eye on the deserted ranch.
+
+Far down the track he saw a glimmering dot of fire and heard the faint
+muffled whistle of the Flyer.  "All right, Bud.  I'll get the tickets.
+Get our coats.  We can just make it."
+
+When they stepped from the Flyer at Usher, the faint light of dawn was
+edging the eastern hills.  A baggage-truck rumbled past and they heard
+some one shout, "Get out o' that!"  In the dim light they saw a figure
+crawl from beneath the baggage-car and dash across the station platform
+to be swallowed up in the shadowy gloom of a side street.
+
+"I only had seven drinks," said Shoop, gazing after the disappearing
+figure.  "But if Sundown ain't a pair of twins, that was him."
+
+"Hold on, Bud!"  And Corliss laid his hand on Shoop's arm.  "Don't take
+after him.  That's the way to stampede him.  We go easy till it's
+light.  He'll see us."
+
+They sauntered up the street and stopped opposite an "all-night"
+eating-house.
+
+"We won't advertise the Concho, this trip," said Corliss, as they
+entered.
+
+Shoop, with his legs curled around the counter stool, sipped his coffee
+and soliloquized.  "Wise old head!  Never was a hotel built that was
+too good for Jack when he's travelin'.  And he don't do his thinkin'
+with his feet, either."
+
+The waiter, who had retired to the semi-seclusion of the kitchen, dozed
+in a chair tilted back against the wall.  He was awakened by a voice at
+the rear door.  Shoop straightened up and grinned at Corliss.  The
+waiter vocalized his attitude with the brief assertion that there was
+"nothin' doin'."
+
+"It's him!" said Shoop.
+
+"I got the price," came from the unseen.
+
+"Then you beat it around to the front," suggested the waiter.
+
+Shoop called for another cup of coffee.  As the waiter brought it,
+Sundown, hatless, begrimed, and showing the effects of an unupholstered
+journey, appeared in the doorway.  Shoop turned and stood up.
+
+"Well, if it ain't me old pal Buddy!" exclaimed Sundown.  "What you
+doin' in this here burg?"
+
+"Why, hello, Hawkins!  Where'd you fall from?  How's things over to
+Homer?"
+
+Sundown took the hint and fabricated a heart-rending tale of an
+all-night ride on "a cayuse that had been tryin' to get rid of him ever
+since he started and had finally piled him as the Flyer tooted for
+Usher."
+
+"You do look kind o' shook-up.  Better eat."
+
+"I sure got room," said Sundown.  "Fetch me a basket of doughnuts and a
+pail of coffee.  That there Fly--cayuse sure left me, but he didn't
+take me appetite."
+
+After the third cup of coffee and the seventh doughnut, Sundown
+asserted that he felt better.  They sauntered out to the street.
+
+"How in blazes did you get loose?" queried Shoop, surveying the unkempt
+adventurer with frank amazement.
+
+"Blazes is correct.  I clumb out of the window."
+
+"Set her on fire?"
+
+"Not with mellishus extent, as the judge says.  Mebby it was a
+cigarette.  I dunno.  First thing I know I was dreamin' I smelt smoke
+and the dream sure come true.  If them bars had been a leetle closter
+together, I reckon I would be tunin' a harp, right now."
+
+"How did you happen to jump our train--and get off here?" asked Corliss.
+
+"It was sure lucky," said Sundown, grinning.  "I run 'round back of the
+station and snook up and crawled under the platform in front.  I could
+see everybody hoppin' 'round and I figured I was safer on the job,
+expectin' they'd be lookin' for me to beat it out of town.  Then you
+fellas come up and stood talkin' right over me head.  Bud he says
+somethin' about eatin' breakfast in Usher, and bein' hungry and likin'
+good comp'ny, I waits till the train pulls up and crawls under the
+baggage.  And here I be."
+
+"We'll have to get you a hat and a coat.  We'll stop at the next
+barber-shop.  You wash up and get shaved.  We'll wait.  Then we'll head
+for the court-house."
+
+"Me ranch?"  And Sundown beamed through his grime.  "Makes me feel like
+writin' a pome!  Now, mebby--"
+
+"Haven't time, now.  Got to scare up two more witnesses to go on your
+paper.  There's a place, just opening up."
+
+They crossed the street.  Next to the barbershop was a saloon.
+
+Sundown eyed the sign pensively.  "I ain't a drinkin' man--regular," he
+said, "but there are times . . ."
+
+"There are times," echoed Corliss, and the three filed between the
+swing-doors and disappeared.
+
+
+An hour later three men, evidently cow-men from their gait and bearing,
+passed along the main street of Usher and entered the court-house,
+where they were met by two citizens.  The five men were admitted to the
+inner sanctum of the hall of justice, from which they presently
+emerged, laughing and joking.  The tallest of them seemed to be
+receiving the humorous congratulations of his companions.  He shook
+hands all around and remarked half-apologetically: "I ain't a drinkin'
+man, reg'lar . . . but there are times . . ."
+
+The five men drifted easily toward the swing-doors.  Presently they
+emerged.  Shoop nudged his employer.  David Loring and his daughter had
+just crossed the street.  The old sheep-man glanced at the group in
+front of the saloon and blinked hard.  Of the West, he read at a glance
+the situation.  Sundown, Corliss, and Shoop raised their hats as
+Eleanor Loring bowed.
+
+"Beat him by a neck!" said Shoop.  "Guess we better fan it, eh, Jack?"
+
+"There's no hurry," said Corliss easily.  Nevertheless, he realized
+that Sundown's presence in Usher was quite apt to be followed by a wire
+from the sheriff of Antelope which would complicate matters, to say the
+least.  He shook hands with the two townsmen and assured them that the
+hospitality of the Concho was theirs when they chose to honor it.  Then
+he turned to Bud Shoop.  "Get the fastest saddle-horse in town and ride
+out to the South road and wait for us.  I'm going to send Sundown over
+to Murphy's.  Pat knows me pretty well.  From there he can take the
+Apache road to the Concho.  We can outfit him and get him settled at
+the water-hole ranch before any one finds out where he is."
+
+"But Jim'll get him again," said Shoop.
+
+"I expect him to.  That'll be all right."
+
+"Well, you got me.  Thought I knowed somethin' about your style, but I
+don't even know your name."
+
+"Let's move on.  You go ahead and get the cayuse.  I want to talk to
+Sundown."
+
+Then Corliss explained his plan.  He told Sundown to keep the
+water-hole fenced and so keep the sheep-men from using it.  This would
+virtually control several thousand acres of range around the water-hole
+ranch.  He told Sundown that he expected him to homestead the ranch for
+himself--do the necessary work to secure a title, and then at his
+option either continue as a rancher or sell the holding to the Concho.
+"I'll start you with some stock--a few head, and a horse or two.  All
+you have to do is to 'tend to business and forget that I have ever
+spoken to you about homesteading the place.  You'll have to play it
+alone after you get started."
+
+"Suits me, boss.  I ain't what you'd call a farmer, but me and Chance
+can scratch around and act like we was.  But the smooth gent as pinched
+me--ain't he goin' to come again?"
+
+"Sure as you're wearing spurs!  But you just take it easy and you'll
+come out all right.  Loring put Jim Banks after you.  Jim is all right
+and he's business.  Loring wants the water-hole ranch.  So do I.  Now,
+if Loring tells the sheriff he saw you in Usher, and later at the
+water-hole, Jim will begin to think that Loring is keeping pretty close
+trail on you.  When Jim finds out you've filed on the water-hole,--and
+he already knows that Loring wants it,--he'll begin to figure that
+Loring had you jailed to keep you out of his way.  And you can take it
+from me, Jim Banks is the squarest man in Apache County.  He'll give
+you a chance to make good.  If we can keep you out of sight till he
+hears from over the line, I think you'll be safe after that.  If we
+can't, why, you still have your title to the water-hole ranch and that
+holds it against trespassers."
+
+"Well, you're sure some shark on the long think!  Say, I been scared
+stiff so long I'm just commencin' to feel me legs again.  The sun is
+shinin' and the birds are sawin' wood.  I get you, boss!  The old guy
+that owns the wool had me pinched.  Well, I ain't got nothin' ag'in'
+him, but that don't say I ain't workin' for you.  Say, if he comes
+botherin' around me farm, do I shoot?"
+
+"No.  You just keep right on.  Pay no attention to him."
+
+"Just sick Chance on him, eh?"
+
+"He'd get Chance.  I'm going to run some cattle over that way soon.
+Then you'll have company.  You needn't be scared."
+
+"Cattle is some comp'ny at that.  Say, have I got to ride that there
+bronc Bud jest went down the street on?"
+
+"As soon as we get out of town."
+
+"Which wouldn't be long if we had hosses like him, eh?"
+
+"I'll give you a note to Murphy.  He'll send your horse back to Usher
+and let you take a fresh horse when you start for the Concho.  Take it
+easy, and don't talk."
+
+"All right, boss.  But I was thinkin'--"
+
+"What?"
+
+"Well, it's men like me and you that puts things through.  It takes a
+man with sand to go around this country gettin' pinched and thrun and
+burnt up and bein' arrested every time he goes to spit.  Folks'll be
+sayin' that there Sundown gent is a brave man--me!  Never shot nobody
+and dependin' on his nerve, every time.  They's nothin' like havin' a
+bad repetation."
+
+"Nothing like it," assented Corliss, smiling.  "Well, here's your road.
+Keep straight on till you cross the river.  Then take the right fork
+and stick to it, and you'll ride right into Murphy's.  He'll fix you
+up, all right."
+
+"Did you think in this note to tell him to give me a hoss that only
+travels one way to onct?" queried Sundown.
+
+Corliss laughed.  "Yes, I told him.  Don't forget you're a citizen and
+a homesteader.  We're depending on you."
+
+"You bet!  And I'll be there with the bells!"
+
+
+Shoop and Corliss watched Sundown top a distant rise and disappear in a
+cloud of dust.  Then they walked back to the station.  As they waited
+for the local, Shoop rolled a cigarette.  "Jest statin' it mild and
+gentle," he said, yawning, "the last couple of weeks has been kind of a
+busy day.  Guess the fun's all over.  Sundown's got a flyin' start;
+Loring's played his ace and lost, and you and me is plumb sober.  If
+I'd knowed it was goin' to be as quiet as this, I'd 'a' brought my
+knittin' along."
+
+"There are times . . ." said Corliss.
+
+"And we got just five minutes," said Shoop.  "Come on."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+THE WALKING MAN
+
+Sundown's sense of the dramatic, his love for posing, with his
+linguistic ability to adopt the vernacular of the moment so impressed
+the temperamental Murphy that he disregarded a portion of his friend
+Corliss's note, and the morning following his lean guest's arrival at
+the ranch the jovial Irishman himself saddled and bridled the swiftest
+and most vicious horse in the corral; a glass-eyed pinto, bronc from
+the end of his switching tail to his pink-mottled muzzle.  He was a
+horse with a record which he did not allow to become obsolete, although
+he had plenty of competition to contend with in the string of broncs
+that Murphy's riders variously bestrode.  Moreover, the pinto, like
+dynamite, "went off" at the most unexpected intervals, as did many of
+his riders.  Sundown, bidding farewell to his host, mounted and swung
+out of the yard at a lope.  The pinto had ideas of his own.  Should he
+buck in the yard, he would immediately be roped and turned into the
+corral again.  Out on the mesas it would be different--and it was.
+
+He paid no attention to a tumble-weed gyrating across the Apache road.
+Neither did he seem disturbed when a rattler burred in the bunch-grass.
+Even the startled leap of a rabbit that shot athwart his immediate
+course was greeted with nothing more than a snort and a toss of his
+swinging head.  Such things were excuses for bad behavior, but he was
+of that type which furnishes its own excuse.  He would lull his rider
+to a false security, and then . . .
+
+The pinto loped over level and rise tirelessly.  Sundown stood in his
+stirrups and gazed ahead.  The wide mesas glowing in the sun, the sense
+of illimitable freedom, the keen, odorless air wrought him to a pitch
+of inspiration.  He would, just over the next rise, draw rein and woo
+his muse.  But the next rise and the next swept beneath the pinto's
+rhythmic hoofs.  The poetry of motion swayed his soul.  He was enjoying
+himself.  At last, he reflected, he had mastered the art of sitting a
+horse.  He had already mastered the art of mounting and of descending
+under various conditions and at seemingly impossible angles.  As Hi
+Wingle had once remarked--Sundown was the most _durable_ rider on the
+range.  His length of limb had no apparent relation to his shortcomings
+as a vaquero.
+
+Curiosity, as well as pride, may precede a fall.  Sundown eventually
+reined up and breathed the pinto, which paced with lowered head as
+though dejected and altogether weary--which was merely a pose, if an
+object in motion can be said to pose.  His rider, relaxing, slouched in
+the saddle and dreamed of a peaceful and domestic future as owner of a
+small herd of cattle, a few fenced acres of alfalfa and vegetables, a
+saddle-horse something like the pinto which he bestrode, with Chance as
+companion and audience--and perhaps a low-voiced seņora to welcome him
+at night when he rode in with spur-chains jingling and the silver
+conchas on his chaps gleaming like stars in the setting sun.  "But me
+chaps did their last gleam in that there fire," he reflected sadly.
+"But I got me big spurs yet."  Which after-thought served in a measure
+to mitigate his melancholy.  Like a true knight, he had slept spurred
+and belted for the chance encounter while held in durance vile at
+Antelope.  "But me ranch!" he exclaimed.  "Me!  And mebby a tame cow
+and chickens and things,--eh, Chance!"  But Chance, he immediately
+realized, was not with him.  He would have a windmill and shade-trees
+and a border of roses along the roadway to the house--like the Loring
+rancho.  But the seņorita to be wooed and won--that was a different
+matter.  "'T ain't no woman's country nohow--this here Arizona.  She's
+fine!  But she's a man's country every time!  Only sech as me and Jack
+Corliss and Bud and them kind is fit to take the risks of makin' good
+in this here State.  But we're makin' good, you calico-hoss!  Listen:--
+
+  "Oh, there's sunshine on the Concho where the little owls are cryin',
+    And red across the 'dobe strings of chiles are a-dryin';
+  And if Arizona's heaven, tell me what's the use of dyin'?
+    Yes, it's good enough down here, just breathin' air;
+
+  "For the posies are a-bloomin' and the mockin'-birds are matin',
+    And somewhere in Arizona there's a Chola girl a-waitin'
+  For to cook them enchiladas while I do the irrigatin'
+    On me little desert homestead over there.
+
+  "While I'm ridin' slow and easy . . ."
+
+"Whoa!  Wonder what that is?  Never seen one of them things before.  'T
+ain't a lizard, but he looks like his pa was a lizard.  Mebby his ma
+was a toad.  Kind of a Mormon, I guess."
+
+He leaned forward and gravely inspected the horned toad that blinked at
+him from the edge of the grass.  The pinto realized that his rider's
+attention was otherwise and thoroughly occupied.  With that
+unforgettable drop of head and arch of spine the horse bucked.  Sundown
+did an unpremeditated evolution that would have won him much applause
+and gold had he been connected with a circus.  He landed in a clump of
+brush and watched his hat sail gently down.  The pinto whirled and took
+the homeward road, snorting and bounding from side to side as the dust
+swirled behind him.  Sundown scratched his head.  "Lemme see.  'We was
+ridin', slow and easy . . .'  Huh!  Well, I ain't cussin' because I
+don' know how.  Lemme see . . . I was facin' east when I started.  Now
+I'm lit, and I'm facin' south.  Me hat's there, and that there
+toad-lizard oughter be over there, if he ain't scared to death.  Reckon
+I'll quit writin' po'try jest at present and finish gettin' acquainted
+with that there toad-lizard.  Wonder how far I got to walk?  Anyhow, I
+was gettin' tired of ridin'.  By gum! me eats is tied to the saddle!
+It's mighty queer how a fella gets set back to beginnin' all over ag'in
+every onct in a while.  Now, this mornin' I was settin' up ridin' a
+good hoss and thinkin' poetical.  Now I'm settin' down restin'.  The
+sun is shinin' yet, and them jiggers in the brush is chirpin' and the
+air is fine, but I ain't thinkin' poetical.  I'd sure hate to have a
+real lady read what I'm thinkin', if it was in a book.  'Them that sets
+on the eggs of untruth,' as the parson says, 'sure hatches lies.'  Jest
+yesterday I was tellin' in Usher how me bronc piled me when I'd been
+ridin' the baggage, which was kind of a hoss-lie.  I must 'a' had it
+comin'."
+
+He rose and stalked to the roadway.  The horned toad, undisturbed,
+squatted in the grass and eyed him with bright, expressionless eyes.
+
+"If I was like some," said Sundown, addressing the toad, "I'd pull me
+six-shooter, only I ain't got it now, and bling you to nothin'.
+Accordin' to law you're the injudicious cause preceding the act, which
+makes you guilty accordin' to the statues of this here commonwealth,
+and I seen lots of 'em on the same street, in Boston, scarin' hosses to
+death and makin' kids and nuss-girls cry.  But I ain't goin' to shoot
+you.  If I was to have the sayin' of it, I'd kind o' like to shoot that
+hoss, though.  He broke as fine a pome in the middle as I ever writ, to
+say nothin' of hurtin' me personal feelin's.  Well, so-long, leetle
+toad-lizard.  Just tell them that you saw me--and they will know the
+rest--if anybody was to ask you, a empty saddle and a man a-foot in the
+desert is sure circumvential evidence ag'in the hoss.  Wonder how far
+it is to the Concho?"
+
+With many a backward glance, inspired by fond imaginings that the pinto
+_might_ have stopped to graze, Sundown stalked down the road.  Waif of
+chance and devotee of the goddess "Maybeso," he rose sublimely superior
+to the predicament in which he found himself.  "The only reason I'm
+goin' east is because I ain't goin' west," he told himself, ignoring,
+with warm adherence to the glowing courses of the sun the frigid
+possibilities of the poles.  Warmed by the exercise of plodding across
+the mesa trail in high-heeled boots, he swung out of his coat and slung
+it across his shoulder.  Dust gathered in the wrinkles of his boots,
+and more than once he stopped to mop his sweating face with his
+bandanna.  Rise after rise swept gently before him and within the hour
+he saw the misty outline of the blue hills to the south.  Slowly his
+moving shadow shifted, bobbing in front of him as the sun slipped
+toward the western horizon.  A little breeze sighed along the road and
+whirls of sand spun in tiny cones around the roots of the chaparral.
+He reached in his pocket, drew forth a silver dollar, and examined it.
+"Now if they weren't any folks on this here earth, I reckon silver and
+gold and precious jools wouldn't be worth any more than rocks and mud
+and gravel, eh?  Why, even if they weren't no folks, water would be
+worth more to this here world than gold.  Water makes things grow
+and--and keeps a fella from gettin' thirsty.  And mud makes things
+grow, too, but I dunno what rocks are for.  Just to sit on when you're
+tired, I reckon."  The sibilant burring of a rattler in the brush set
+his neck and back tingling.  "And what snakes was made for, gets me!
+They ain't good to eat, nohow.  And they ain't friendly like some of
+the bugs and things.  I'm thinkin' that that there snake what clumb the
+tree and got Mrs. Eve interested in the apple business would 'a' been a
+whole lot better for folks, if he'd 'a' stayed up that tree and died,
+instead o' runnin' around and raisin' young ones.  Accordin' to my way
+of thinkin' a garden ain't a garden with a snake in it, nohow.  Now,
+Mrs. Eve--if she'd had to take a hammer and nails and make a ladder to
+get to them apples, by the time she got the ladder done I reckon them
+apples wouldn't 'a' looked so good to her.  That's what comes of havin'
+a snake handy.  'Course, bein' a woman, she jest nacherally couldn't
+wait for 'em to get ripe and fall off the tree.  That would 'a' been
+too easy.  It sure is funny how folks goes to all kinds o' trouble to
+get into it.  Mebby she did get kind o' tired eatin' the same
+breakfast-food every mornin'.  Lots o' folks do, and hankers to try a
+new one.  But I never got tired of drinkin' water yet.  Wisht I had a
+barrel with ice in it.  Gee Gosh!  Ice!  Mebby a cup of water would be
+enough for a fella, but when he's dry he sure likes to see lots ahead
+even if he can't drink it all.  Mebby it's jest knowin' it's there that
+kind o' eases up a fella's thirst.  I dunno."
+
+Romance, as romance was wont to do at intervals, lay in wait for the
+weary Sundown.  Hunger and thirst and a burning sun may not be
+immediately conducive to poetry or romantic imaginings.  But the 'dobe
+in the distance shaded by a clump of trees, the gleam of the drying
+chiles, the glow of flowers, offered an acceptable antithesis to the
+barren roadway and the empty mesas.  Sundown quickened his pace.  Eden,
+though circumscribed by a barb-wire fence enclosing scant territory,
+invited him to rest and refresh himself.  And all unexpected the
+immemorial Eve stood in the doorway of the 'dobe, gazing down the road
+and doubtless wondering why this itinerant Adam, booted and spurred,
+chose to walk the dusty highway.
+
+At the gate of the homestead Sundown paused and raised his broad
+sombrero.  Anita, dusky and buxom daughter of Chico Miguel, "the little
+hombre with the little herd," as the cattle-men described him, nodded a
+bashful acknowledgment of the salute, and spoke sharply to the dog
+which had risen and was bristling toward the Strange wayfarer.
+
+"Agua," said Sundown, opening the gate, "Mucha agua, Senorita," adding,
+with a humorous gesture of drinking, "I'm dry clean to me boots."
+
+The Mexican girl, slow-eyed and smiling, gazed at this most wonderful
+man, of such upstanding height that his hat brushed the limbs of the
+shade-trees at the gateway.  Anita was plump and not tall.  As Sundown
+stalked up the path assuming an air of gallantry that was not wasted on
+the desert air, the girl stepped to the olla hanging in the shade and
+offered him the gourd.  Sundown drank long and deep.  Anita watched him
+with wondering eyes.  Such a man she had never seen.  Vaqueros?  Ah,
+yes! many of them, but never such a man as this.  This one smiled, yet
+his face had much of the sadness in it.  He had perhaps walked many
+weary miles in the heat.  Would he--with a gesture interpreting her
+speech--be pleased to rest awhile?  Without hesitation, he would.  As
+he sat on the doorstep gazing contentedly at the flowers bordering the
+path, Anita's mother appeared from some mysterious recess of the 'dobe
+and questioned Anita with quick low utterance.  The girl's answer,
+interpretable to Sundown only by its intonation, was music to him.  The
+Mexican woman, more than buxom, large-eyed and placid, turned to
+Sundown, who rose and again doffed his sombrero.
+
+"I lost me horse--back there.  I'm headed for the Concho--ma'am.
+Concho," he reiterated in a louder tone.  "Sabe?"
+
+The mother of Anita nodded.  "You sick?" she asked.
+
+"What?  Me?  Not on your life, lady!  I'm the healthiest Ho--puncher in
+this here State.  You sabe Concho?"
+
+"Si!  Zhack Corlees--'Juan,' we say.  Si!  You of him?"
+
+"Yes, lady.  I'm workin' for him.  Lost me hoss."
+
+Anita and her mother exchanged glances.  Sundown felt that his status
+as a vaquero was in question.  Would he let the beautiful Anita know
+that he had been ignominiously "piled" by that pinto horse?  Not he.
+"Circumventions alters cases," he soliloquized, not altogether
+untruthfully.  Then aloud, "Me hoss put his foot in a gopher-hole.
+Bruk his leg, and I had to shoot him, lady.  Hated to part with him."
+And the inventive Sundown illustrated with telling gesture the
+imaginary accident.
+
+Sympathy flowed freely from the gentle-hearted Seņora and her daughter.
+"Si!"  It was not of unusual happening that horses met with such
+accidents.  It was getting late in the afternoon.  Would the
+unfortunate caballero accept of their hospitality in the way of
+frijoles and some of the good coffee, perhaps?  Sundown would, without
+question.  He pressed a dollar into the palm of the reluctant Seņora.
+He was not a tramp.  Of that she might be assured.  He had met with
+misfortune, that was all.  And would the patron return soon?  The
+patron would return with the setting of the sun.  Meanwhile the vaquero
+of the Concho was to rest and perhaps enjoy his cigarette?  And the
+"vaquero" loafed and smoked many cigarettes while the glowing eyes of
+Anita shone upon him with large sympathy.  As yet Sundown had not
+especially noticed her, but returning from his third visit to the
+cooling olla, he caught her glance and read, or imagined he read, deep
+admiration, lacking words to utter.  From that moment he became a
+changed man.  He shed his weariness as a tattered garment is thrown
+aside.  He straightened his shoulders and held his head high.  At last
+a woman had looked at him and had not smiled at his ungainly stature.
+Nay!  But rather seemed impressed, awe-stricken, amazed.  And his heart
+quickened to faster rhythm, driving the blood riotously through his
+imaginative mind.  He grew eloquent, in gesture, if not in speech.  He
+told of his wanderings, his arrival at the Concho, of Chance his great
+wolf-dog, his horse "Pill," and his good friends Bud Snoop and Hi
+Wangle.  Sundown could have easily given Othello himself "cards and
+spades" in this chance game of hearts and won--moving metaphor!--in a
+canter.  That the little Seņorita with the large eyes did not
+understand more than a third of that which she heard made no difference
+to her.  His ambiguity of utterance, backed by assurance and illumined
+by the divine fire of inspiration, awakened curiosity in the placid
+breast of this Desdemona of the mesas.  It required no sophistication
+on her part to realize that this caballero was not as the vaqueros she
+had heretofore known.  He made no boorish jests; his eyes were not as
+the eyes of many that had gazed at her in a way that had tinged her
+dusky cheeks with warm resentment.  She felt that he was endeavoring to
+interest her, to please her rather than to woo.  And more than that--he
+seemed intensely interested in his own brave eloquence.  A child could
+have told that Sundown was single-hearted.  And with the instinct of a
+child--albeit eighteen, and quite a woman in her way--Anita approved of
+this adventurer as she had never approved of men, or man, before.  His
+great height, his long, sweeping arms, moving expansively as he
+illustrated this or that incident, his silver spurs, his loose-jointed
+"tout ensemble," so to speak, combined with an eloquent though puzzling
+manner of speech, fascinated her.  Warmed to his work, and forgetful of
+his employer's caution in regard to certain plans having to do with the
+water-hole ranch, Sundown elaborated, drawing heavily on future
+possibilities, among which he towered in imagination monarch of rich
+mellow acres and placid herds.  He intimated delicately that a
+rancher's life was lonely at best, and enriched the tender intimation
+with the assurance that he was more than fond of enchiladas, frijoles,
+carne-con-chile, tamales, adding as an afterthought that he was
+somewhat of an expert himself in "wrastlin' out" pies and doughnuts and
+various other gastronomical delicacies.
+
+A delicate frown touched the gentle Anita's smooth forehead when her
+mother interrupted Sundown with a steaming cup of coffee and a plate of
+frijoles, yet Anita realized, as she saw his ardent expression when the
+aroma of the coffee reached him, that this was a most sensible and
+fitting climax to his glowing discourse.  Her frown vanished together
+with the coffee and beans.
+
+Fortified by the strong black coffee and the nourishing frijoles,
+Sundown rose from his seat on the doorstep and betook himself to the
+back of the house where he labored with an axe until he had accumulated
+quite a pile of firewood.  Then he rolled up his sleeves, washed his
+hands, and asked permission to prepare the evening meal.  Although a
+little astonished, the Seņora consented, and watched Sundown, at first
+with a smile of indulgence, then with awakening curiosity, and finally
+with frank and complimentary amazement as he deftly kneaded and rolled
+pie-crust and manufactured a pie that eventually had, for those
+immediately concerned, historical significance.
+
+The "little hombre," Chico Miguel, returning to his 'dobe that evening,
+was greeted with a tide of explanatory utterances that swept him off
+his feet.  He was introduced to Sundown, apprised of the strange
+guest's manifold accomplishments, and partook of the substantial
+evidence of his skill until of the erstwhile generous pie there was
+nothing left save tender reminiscence and replete satisfaction.
+
+Later in the evening, when the Arizona stars glowed and shimmered on
+the shadowy adobe, when the wide mesas grew mysteriously beautiful in
+the soft radiance of the slow moon, Chico Miguel brought his guitar
+from the bedroom, tuned it, and struck a swaying cadence from its
+strings.  Then Anita's voice, blending with the rhythm, made melody,
+and Sundown sat entranced.  Mood, environment, temperament, lent
+romance to the simple song.  Every singing string on the old guitar was
+silver--the singer's girlish voice a sunlit wave of gold.
+
+The bleak and almost barren lives of these isolated folk became
+illumined with a reminiscent glow as the tinkling notes of the guitar
+hushed to faint echoes of fairy bells hung on the silver boughs of
+starlit trees.  "Adios, linda Rosa," ran the song.  Then silence, the
+summer night, the myriad stars.
+
+Sundown, turning his head, gazed spellbound at the dark-eyed singing
+girl.  In the dim light of the lamp she saw that his lean cheeks were
+wet with tears.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+ON THE MESA
+
+With the morning sun came a brave, cloudless day and a more jovial mood
+to Sundown as he explained the necessity for haste to the Concho.
+Chico Miguel would gladly furnish horse and saddle.  Juan Corlees was
+of men the finest!  Once upon a time, in fact, Chico Miguel had ridden
+range for the father of Seņor Corlees, but that was in years long past,
+Ah, yes!  Then there were no sheep in the country--nothing but cattle
+and vaqueros.  Would the caballero accept the loan of horse and saddle?
+The horse could be returned at his convenience.  And possibly--and here
+Chico Miguel paused to roll a cigarette, light it, and smoke awhile
+reflectively--and possibly the caballero would again make their humble
+home beautiful with his presence.  Such pie as the Seņor made was a not
+unworthy meal for the saints.  Indeed, Chico Miguel himself had had
+many pleasant dreams following their feast of the evening before.
+Would Sundown condescend to grace their home with his presence again
+and soon?  Sundown would, be Gosh!  He sure did like music, especially
+them Spanish songs what made a fella kind of shivery and sad-like from
+his boots up.  And that part of the country looked good to him.  In
+fact he was willing to be thrun from--er--have his hoss step in a
+gopher-hole any day if the accident might terminate as pleasantly as
+had his late misfortune.  He aspired to become a master of the art of
+cooking Mexican dishes.  'Course at reg'lar plain-cookin' and deserts
+he wasn't such a slouch, but when it come to spreadin' the chile, he
+wasn't, as yet, an expert.
+
+Meanwhile he clung tenaciously to the few Spanish words he knew, added
+to which was "Linda Rosa"--"pretty rose,"--which he intended to use
+with telling effect when he made his adieux.  After breakfast he rose
+and disappeared.  When he again entered the house the keen Seņora
+noticed that his shirt front swelled expansively just above his heart.
+She wondered if the tall one had helped himself to a few of her beloved
+chiles.
+
+Presently Chico Miguel appeared with the pony.  Sundown mounted,
+hesitated, and then nodded farewell to the Seņora and the almost
+tearful Anita who stood in the doorway.  Things were not as Sundown
+would have had them.  He was long of arm and vigorous, but to cast a
+bouquet of hastily gathered and tied flowers from the gateway to the
+hand of the Seņorita would require a longer arm and a surer aim than
+his.  "Gee Gosh!" he exclaimed, dismounting hurriedly.  "What's that on
+his hind foot?"
+
+He referred to the horse.  Chico Miguel, at the gate, hastened to
+examine the pony, but Sundown, realizing that the Seņorita still stood
+beside her mother, must needs create further delay.  He stepped to the
+pony and, assuming an air of experience, reached to take up the horse's
+foot and examine it.  The horse, possibly realizing that its foot was
+sound, resented Sundown's solicitude.  The upshot--used advisedly--of
+it was that Sundown found himself sitting in the road and Chico Miguel
+struggling with the pony.
+
+With a scream Anita rushed to the gateway, wringing her hands as
+Sundown rose stiffly and felt of his shirt front.  The flowers that he
+had picked for his adored, were now literally pressed to his bosom.  He
+wondered if they "were mushed up much?"  Yet he was not unhappy.  His
+grand climax was at hand.  Again he mounted the pony, turned to the
+Seņorita, and, drawing the more or less mangled blossoms from his
+shirt, presented them to her with sweeping gallantry.  Anita blushed
+and smiled.  Sundown raised his hat.  "Adios!  Adios!  Mucha adios!
+Seņorita!  For you sure are the lindaest little linda rosa of the whole
+bunch!" he said.
+
+And with Anita standing in rapt admiration, Chico Miguel wondering if
+the kick of the horse had not unsettled the strange caballero's reason,
+and the Seņora blandly aware that her daughter and the tall one had
+become adepts in interpreting the language of the eyes, Sundown rode
+away in a cloud of dust, triumphantly joyous, yet with a peculiar
+sensation in the region of his heart, where the horse had kicked him.
+When he realized that admiring eyes could not follow him forever, he
+checked the horse and rubbed his chest.
+
+"It hurts, all right! but hoss-shoes is a sign of _luck_--and posies is
+a sign of _love_--and them two signs sure come together this mornin'.
+'Oh, down in Arizona there's a--'  No, I reckon I won't be temptin'
+Providence ag'in.  This hoss might have some kind of a dislikin' for
+toad-lizards and po'try mixed, same as the other one.  I can jest kind
+o' work the rest of that poem up inside and keep her on the ice
+till--er--till she's the right flavor.  Wonder how they're makin' it at
+the Concho?  Guess I'll stir along.  Mebby they're waitin' for me to
+show up so's they can get busy.  I dunno.  It sure is wonderful what a
+lot is dependin' on me these here days.  I'm gettin' to be kind of a
+center figure in this here country.  Lemme see.  Now I bruk
+jail--hopped the Limited, took out me homesteader papers, got thrun off
+a hoss, slumped right into love with that sure-enough Linda Rosa, and
+got kicked by another hoss.  And they say I ain't a enterprisin' guy!
+Gee Gosh!"
+
+Never so much at home as when alone, the mellifluous Sundown's
+imagination expanded, till it embraced the farthest outpost of his
+theme.  He became the towering center of things terrestrial.  The world
+revolved around but one individual that glorious morning, and he
+generously decided to let it revolve.  He felt--being, for the first
+time in his weird career, very much in love--that Dame Fortune, so long
+indifferent to his modest aspirations, had at last recognized in him a
+true adventurer worthy of her grace.  He was a remarkable man,
+physically.  He considered himself a remarkable man mentally, and he
+was, in Arizona.  "Why," he announced to his horse, "they's folks as
+says they ain't no romantics left in this here world!  Huh!  Some of
+them writin' folks oughter jest trail my smoke for a week, instead o'
+settin' in clubs and drinkin' high-balls and expectin' them high-balls
+to put 'em wise to real life!  Huh!  A fella's got to sweat it out
+himself.  The kind of romantics that comes in a bottle ain't the real
+thing.  Pickles is all right, but they ain't cucumbers, nohow.  Wisht I
+had one--and some salt.  The stories them guys write is like pickles,
+jest two kinds of flavor, sweet and sour.  Now, when I write me life's
+history she'll be a cucumber sliced thin with a few of them little red
+chiles to kind o' give the right kick, and mebby a leetle onion
+representin' me sentiment, and salt to draw out the proper taste, and
+'bout three drops o' vinegar standin' for hard luck, and the hull thing
+fixed tasty-like on a lettuce leaf, the crinkles representin' the
+mountings and valleys of this here world, and me name on the cover in
+red with gold edges.  Gee Gosh!"
+
+The creak of the saddle, the tinkle of his spurs, the springy stride of
+the horse furnished a truly pastoral accompaniment to Sundown's
+"romantics."
+
+As he rode down a draw, he came suddenly upon two coyotes playing like
+puppies in the sun.  He reined up and watched them, and his heart
+warmed to their antics.  "Now, 'most any fella ridin' range would
+nacherally pull his gun and bling at 'em.  What for?  Search me!  They
+ain't botherin' nobody.  Jest playin'.  Guess 'most any animals like to
+play if they wasn't scared o' gettin' shot all the time.  Funny how
+some folks got to kill everything they see runnin' wild.  What's the
+use?  Now, mebby them coyotes is a pa and ma thinkin' o' settin' up
+ranchin' and raisin' alfalfa and young ones.  Or mebby he's just
+a-courtin' her and showin' how he can run and jump better than any
+other coyote she ever seen.  I dunno.  There they go.  Guess they seen
+me.  Say! but they are jest floatin' across the mesa--they ain't
+runnin'.  Goin' easy, like their legs belonged to somebody else and
+they was jest keepin' up with 'em.  So-long, folks!  Here's hopin' you
+get settled on that coyote-ranch all right!"
+
+Thus far on his journey Sundown had enjoyed the pleasing local flavor
+of the morning and his imaginings.  The vinegar, which was to represent
+"hard luck," had not as yet been added to the salad.
+
+As he ascended the gentle slope of the draw he heard a quick, blunt
+sound, as though some one had struck a drum and immediately muffled the
+reverberations with the hand.  He was too deeply immersed in himself to
+pay much attention to this.  Topping the rise, the fresh vista of
+rolling mesa, the far blue hills, and a white dot--the distant
+Concho--awakened him to a realization of his whereabouts.  Again he
+heard that peculiar, dull sound.  He lifted his horse to a lope and
+swept along, the dancing shadow at his side shortening as noon overtook
+him.  He was about to dismount and partake of the luncheon the kindly
+Seņora had prepared for him, when he changed his mind.  "Lunch and
+hunch makes a rhyme," he announced.  "And I got 'em both.  Guess I'll
+jog along and eat at the Concho.  Mebby I'll get there in two, three
+hours."
+
+As the white dot took on a familiar outline and the eastern wall of the
+caņon of the Concho showed sharply against the sky, he saw a horseman,
+strangely doubled up in the saddle, riding across the mesa toward the
+ranch-house.  Evidently he also was going to the Concho.  Possibly it
+was Bud, or Hi Wingle, or Lone Johnny.  Following an interval of
+attending strictly to the trail he raised his eyes.  He pulled his
+horse up and sat blinking.  Where there had been a horse and rider
+there was but the horse, standing with lowered head.  He shaded his
+eyes with his palm and gazed again.  There stood the horse.  The man
+had disappeared.  "Fell into one of them Injun graves," remarked
+Sundown.  "Guess I'll go see."
+
+It took much longer than he had anticipated to come up with the
+riderless horse.  He recognized it as one of the Concho ponies.  Almost
+beneath the animal lay a huddled something.  Sundown's scalp tingled.
+Slowly he got from his horse and stalked across the intervening space.
+He led the pony from the tumbled shape on the ground.  Then he knelt
+and raised the man's shoulders.  Sinker, one of the Concho riders,
+groaned and tore at the shirt over his stomach.  Then Sundown knew.  He
+eased the cowboy back and called his name.  Slowly the gray lids
+opened.  "It's me, Sundown!  Who done it?"
+
+The cowboy tried to rise on his elbow.  Sundown supported his head,
+questioning him, for he knew that Sinker had but little time left to
+speak.  The wounded man writhed impotently, then quieted.
+
+"God, Sun!" he moaned, "they got me.  Tell Jack--Mexican--Loring--sheep
+at--waterhole.  Tried to bluff--'em off--orders not to shoot.  They got
+orders to shoot--all right.  Tell Jack--Guess I'm bleedin'
+inside--So-long--pardner."
+
+The dying man writhed from Sundown's arms and rolled to his face,
+cursing and clutching at the grass in agony.  Sundown stood over him,
+his hat off, his gaze lifted toward the cloudless sky, his face white
+with a new and strange emotion.  He raised his long arms and clenched
+his hands.  "God A'mighty," he whispered, rocking back and forth, "I
+got to tell You that sech things is _wrong_.  And from what I seen
+sence I come to this country, You don't care.  But some of us does
+care . . . and I reckon we got to do somethin' if You don't."
+
+[Illustration: "God A'mighty, sech things is wrong."]
+
+The cowboy raised himself on rigid arms, he lifted his head, and his
+eyes, filmed with the chill of death, grew clear for an instant.
+"'Sandro--the herder--got me," he gasped.  His lips writhed back from
+his clenched teeth.  A rush of blood choked him.  He sank to the
+ground, quivered, and was still.
+
+"'Sandro . . . the herder" . . . whispered Sundown.  "Sinker was me
+friend.  I reckon God's got to leave the finish of this to me."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+WAIT!
+
+To see a man's life go out and to stand by unable to help, unable to
+offer comfort or ease mortal agony, is a bitter experience.  It brings
+the beholder close to the abyss of eternity, wherein the world shrinks
+to a speck of whirling dust and the sun is but a needle-point of light.
+Then it is that the fleshless face of the unconquerable One leans close
+and whispers, not to the insensate clay that mocks the living, but to
+the impotent soul that mourns the dead.
+
+That Sundown should consider himself morally bound to become one of
+those who he knew would avenge the killing of the cowboy, and without
+recourse to law, was not altogether strange.  The iron had entered his
+soul.  Heretofore at loose ends with the world, the finding of Sinker,
+dying on the mesas, kindled within him righteous wrath against the
+circumstance rather than the individual slayer.  His meandering
+thoughts and emotions became crystallized.  His energies hardened to a
+set purpose.  He was obsessed with a fanaticism akin to that of those
+who had burned witches and thanked their Maker for the opportunity.
+
+In his simple way he wondered why he had not wept.  He rode slowly to
+the Concho.  Chance leaped circling about his horse.  He greeted the
+dog with a word.  When he dismounted, Chance cringed and crept to him.
+Without question this was his master, and yet there was something in
+Sundown's attitude that silenced the dog's joyous welcoming.  Chance
+sat on his haunches, whined, and did his best by his own attitude to
+show that he was in sympathy with his master's strange mood.
+
+John Corliss saw instantly that there was something wrong, and his
+hearty greeting lapsed into terse questioning.  Sundown pointed toward
+the northern mesas.
+
+"What's up?" he queried.
+
+"Sinker--he's dead--over there."
+
+"Sinker?"  Corliss ran to the corral, calling to Wingle, who came from
+the bunk-house.  The cook whisked off his apron, grabbed his hat, and
+followed Corliss.  "Sinker's done for!" said Corliss.  "Saddle up, Hi.
+Sun found him out there.  Must have had trouble at the water-hole.  I
+should have sent another man with him."
+
+Wingle, with the taciturnity of the plainsman, jerked the cinchas tight
+and swung to the saddle.  Sinker's death had come like a white-hot
+flash of lightning from the bulked clouds that had shadowed disaster
+impending--and in that shadow the three men rode silently toward the
+north.  Again Corliss questioned Sundown.  Tense with the stress of an
+emotion that all but sealed his lips, Sundown turned his white face to
+Corliss and whispered, "Wait!"  The rancher felt that that one terse,
+whispered word implied more than he cared to imagine.  There was
+something uncanny about the man.  If the killing of Sinker could so
+change the timorous, kindly Sundown to this grim, unbending epitome of
+lean death and vengeance, what could he himself do to check the wild
+fury of his riders when they heard of their companion's passing from
+the sun?
+
+Sinker's horse, grazing, lifted its head and nickered as they rode up.
+They dismounted and turned the body over.  Wingle, kneeling, examined
+the cowboy's six-gun.
+
+Corliss, in a burst of wrath, turned on Sundown.  "Damn you, open your
+mouth.  What do you know about this?"
+
+Sundown bit his nails and glowered at Corliss.  "God A'mighty sent
+me--" he began.
+
+With a swift gesture Corliss interrupted.  "You're working for the
+Concho.  Was he dead when you found him?"
+
+Sundown slowly raised his arm and pointed across the mesa.
+
+Corliss fingered his belt and bit his lip impatiently.
+
+"A herder--over there to my ranch--done it.  Sinker told me--'fore he
+crossed over.  Said it was 'Sandro.  Said he had orders not to shoot.
+He tried to bluff 'em off, for they was bringin' sheep to the
+water-hole.  He said to tell you."
+
+Corliss and Wingle turned from looking at Sundown and gazed at each
+other.  "If that's right--"  And the rancher hesitated.
+
+"I reckon it's right," said Wingle.  And he stooped and together they
+lifted the body and laid it across the cowboy's horse.
+
+Sundown watched them with burning eyes.  "We'll ride back home," said
+Corliss, motioning to him.
+
+"Home?  Ain't you goin' to do nothin'?"
+
+Corliss shook his head.  Sundown slowly mounted and followed them to
+the Concho.  He watched them as they carried Sinker to the bunkhouse.
+
+When Corliss reappeared, Sundown strode up to him.  "This here hoss
+belongs to that leetle Mexican on the Apache road, Chico Miguel--said
+you knowed him.  I was goin' to take him back with my hoss.  Now I
+reckon I can't.  I kind o' liked it over there to his place.  I guess I
+want my own hoss, Pill."
+
+"I guess you better get something to eat and rest up.  You're in bad
+shape, Sun."
+
+Sundown shook his head.  "I got somethin' to do--after that mebby I can
+rest up.  Can I have me hoss?"
+
+"Yes, if it'll do you any good.  What are you going to do?"
+
+"I got me homesteader papers.  I'm goin' to me ranch."
+
+"But you're not outfitted.  There's no grub there.  You better take it
+easy.  You'll feel better to-morrow."
+
+"I don't need no outfit.  I reckon I'll saddle Pill."
+
+Sundown turned the Mexican's pony into the corral and saddled his own
+horse which he led to the bunk-house.  "I ain't got no gun," he said.
+"The sheriff gent's got mine.  Mebby you'd be lendin' me one?"
+
+Wingle stepped to the doorway and stood beside Corliss.  "What does he
+want, Jack?"
+
+"He's loco.  Wants to borrow a gun."  The rancher turned to Sundown.
+"See here, Sun, there's no use thinking you've got to take a hand in
+this.  Some of the boys'll get the Mexican sure!  I can't stop them,
+but I don't want you to get in trouble."
+
+"No.  You come on in and eat," said Wingle.  "You got a touch of sun, I
+guess."
+
+Sundown mounted.  "Ain't you goin' to do nothin'?" he asked again.
+
+Corliss and Wingle glanced at each other.  "No, not now."
+
+"Then me and Chance is," said Sundown.  "Come on, Chance."
+
+Corliss and the cook watched the tall figure as it passed through the
+gateway and out to the mesa.  "I'll go head him off, if you say the
+word, Jack."
+
+Corliss made a negative gesture.  "He'll come back when he gets hungry.
+It's a long ride to the water-hole.  Sinker had sand to get as near
+home as he did.  It's going to be straight hell from now on, Hi."
+
+Wingle nodded.  Through force of habit he reached for his apron to wipe
+his hand--his invariable preliminary before he shook hands with any
+one.  His apron being off, he hesitated, then stepped to his employer.
+"It sure is," he said, "and I'm ridin' with you."
+
+They shook hands.  Moved by a mutual impulse they glanced at the long,
+rigid shape covered with a blanket.  "When the boys come--" began
+Wingle.
+
+"It will be out of our hands," concluded Corliss.
+
+"If Sun--"
+
+"I ought to ride out after him," said Corliss, nodding.  "But I can't
+leave.  And you can't."
+
+Wingle stepped to the doorway and shaded his eyes.  Far out on the mesa
+the diminishing figure of a horseman showed black against the glare of
+the sun.  Wingle turned and, with a glance at the shrouded figure on
+the bunk-house floor, donned his apron and shuffled to the kitchen.
+Corliss tied his horse and strode to the office.
+
+Hi Wingle puttered about the kitchen.  There would be supper to get for
+fifteen hungry--No! fourteen, to-night.  He paused, set down the pan
+that he held and opened the door of the chuck-room.  With finger
+marking the count he totaled the number of chairs at the table.
+Fifteen.  Then he stepped softly to the bunk-room, took Sinker's hat
+and stepped back to the table.  He placed the hat on the dead cowboy's
+chair.  Then he closed the door and turned to the preparation of the
+evening meal.  "Jack'll report to Antelope and try and keep the boys
+quiet.  I'm sure with Jack--only I was a puncher first afore I took to
+cookin'.  And I'm a puncher yet--inside."  Which was his singular and
+only spoken tribute to the memory of Sinker.  He had reasoned that it
+was only right and fitting that the slayer of a cowman should be slain
+by a cowman--a code that held good in his time and would hold good
+now--especially when the boys saw the battered Stetson, every line of
+which was mutely eloquent of its owner's individuality.
+
+Sundown drifted through the afternoon solitudes, his mind dulled by the
+monotony of the theme which obsessed him.  It was evening when he
+reached the water-hole.  Around the enclosure straggled a few stray
+sheep.  He cautioned Chance against molesting them.  Ordinarily he
+would have approached the ranch-house timidly, but he was beyond fear.
+He rode to the gate, tied his horse, and stepped to the doorway.  The
+door was open.  He entered and struck a match.  In the dusk he saw that
+the room was empty save for a tarpaulin and a pair of rawhide kyacks
+such as the herders use.  Examining the kyacks he found that they
+contained flour, beans, salt, sugar, and coffee.  Evidently the herders
+had intended making the deserted ranch-house their headquarters.  He
+wondered vaguely where the Mexicans were.  The thought that they might
+return did not worry him.  He knew what he would do in that instance.
+He would find out which one was 'Sandro . . . and then . . .
+
+The bleating of the stray sheep annoyed him.  He told Chance to stay in
+the room.  Then he stalked out and opened the gate.  "Mebby they want
+water.  I dunno.  Them's Loring's sheep, all right, but they ain't to
+blame for--for Sinker."  With the idea came a more reasonable mood.
+The sheep were not to blame for the killing of Sinker.  The sheep
+belonged to Loring.  The herders, also, practically belonged to Loring.
+They were only following his bidding when they protected the sheep.
+With such reasoning he finally concluded that Loring, not his herder,
+was responsible for the cowboy's death.  He returned to the house,
+built a fire, and cooked an indifferent meal.
+
+
+Sundown sat up suddenly.  In the dim light of the moon flickering
+through the dusty panes he saw Chance standing close to the door with
+neck bristling and head lowered.  Throwing back his blanket he rose and
+whispered to the dog.  Chance came to him obediently.  Sundown saw that
+the dog was trembling.  He motioned him back and stepped to the door.
+His slumbers had served to restore him to himself in a measure.  His
+old timidity became manifest as he hesitated, listening.  In the
+absolute silence of the night he thought he heard a shuffling as of
+something being dragged across the enclosure.  Tense with anticipating
+he knew not what, he listened.  Again he heard that peculiar slithering
+sound.  He opened the door an inch and peered out.  In the pallid glow
+of the moon he beheld a shapeless object that seemed to be crawling
+toward him.  Something in the helpless attitude of the object suggested
+Sinker as he had risen on his arm, endeavoring to tell of the disaster
+which had overtaken him.  With a gesture of scorn at his own fear he
+swung open the door.  Chance crept at his heels, whining.  Then Sundown
+stepped out and stood gazing at the strange figure on the ground.  Not
+until a groan of agony broke the utter silence did he realize that the
+night had brought to him a man, wounded and suffering terribly.  "Who
+are you?" he questioned, stooping above the man.  The other dragged
+himself to Sundown's feet and clawed at his knees.  "'Sandro . . .  It
+is--that I--die.  You don' keel . . .  You don' . . ."
+
+Sundown dragged the herder to the house and into the bedroom.  He got
+water, for which the herder called piteously.  With his own blanket he
+made him as comfortable as he could.  Then he built a fire that he
+might have light.  The herder was shot through the thigh, and had all
+but bled to death dragging himself across the mesa from where he had
+fallen from his horse.  Sundown tried to stop the bleeding with strips
+torn from his bandanna.  Meanwhile the wounded man was imploring him
+not to kill him.
+
+"I'm doin' me best to fix you up, Dago," said Sundown.  "But you better
+go ahead and say them prayers--and you might put in a couple for Sinker
+what you shot.  I reckon his slug cut the big vein and you got to go.
+Wisht I could do somethin' . . . to help . . . you stay . . . but mebby
+it's better that you cross over easy.  Then the boys don't get you."
+
+The Mexican seemed to understand.  He nodded as he lay gazing at the
+lean figure illumined by the dancing light of the open stove.  "Si.
+You good hombre, si," he gasped.
+
+Sundown frowned.  "Now, don't you take any idea like that along to
+glory with you.  Sinker--what you shot--was me friend.  I ought to kill
+you like a snake.  But God A'mighty took the job off me hands.  I
+reckon that makes me square with--with Sinker--and Him."
+
+Again Sundown brought water to the herder.  Gently he raised his head
+and held the cup to his lips.  Chance stood in the middle of the room
+strangely subdued, yet he watched each movement of his master with
+alert eyes.  The moonlight faded from the window and the fire died
+down.  The air became chill as the faint light of dawn crept in to
+emphasize the ghastly picture--the barren, rough-boarded room, the
+rusted stove, the towering figure of Sundown, impassively waiting; and
+the shattered, shrunken figure of the Mexican, hopeless and helpless,
+as the morning mesas welcomed the golden glow of dawn and a new day.
+
+The herder, despite his apparent torpor, was the first to hear the
+faint thud of hoofs in the loose sand of the roadway.  He grew
+instantly alert, raising himself on his elbow and gazing with fear-wide
+eyes toward the south.
+
+Sundown nodded.  "It's the boys," he said, as though speaking to
+himself.  "I was hopin' he could die easy.  I dunno."
+
+'Sandro raised his hands and implored Sundown to save him from the
+riders.  Sundown stepped to the window.  He saw the flash of spurs and
+bits as a group of the Concho boys swept down the road.  One of them
+was leading a riderless horse.  In a flash he realized that they had
+found the herder's horse and had tracked 'Sandro to the water-hole.  He
+backed away from the window and reaching down took the Mexican's gun
+from its holster.  "'T ain't what I figured on," he muttered.  "They's
+me friends, but this is me ranch."
+
+With a rush and a slither of hoofs in the loose sand the Concho riders,
+headed by Shoop, swung up to the gate and dismounted.  Sundown stepped
+to the doorway, Chance beside him.
+
+Shoop glanced quickly at the silent figure.  Then his gaze drifted to
+the ground.
+
+"'Mornin', Sun!  Seen anybody 'round here this mornin'?"
+
+"Mornin', fellas.  Nope.  Just me and Chance."
+
+The men hesitated, eyeing Sundown suspiciously.
+
+Corliss stepped toward the ranch-house.
+
+"Guess we'll look in," he said, and stepped past Shoop.
+
+Sundown had closed the door of the bedroom.  He was at a loss to
+prevent the men entering the house, but once within the house he
+determined that they should not enter the bedroom.
+
+He backed toward it and stood with one shoulder against the lintel.
+"Come right in.  I ain't got to housekeepin' yet, but . . ."
+
+He ceased speaking as he saw Corliss's gaze fixed on the kyacks.
+"Where did you get 'em?" queried the rancher.
+
+The men crowded in and gazed curiously at the kyacks--then at Sundown.
+
+Shoop strode forward.  "The game's up, Sun.  We want the Mexican."
+
+"This is me ranch," said Sundown.  "I got the papers--here.  You fellas
+is sure welcome--only they ain't goin' to be no shootin' or such-like.
+I ain't joshin' this time."
+
+A voice broke the succeeding silence.  "If the Mexican is in there, we
+want him--that's all."
+
+Sundown's eyes became bright with a peculiar expression.  Slowly--yet
+before any one could realize his intent--he reached down and drew the
+Mexican's gun.  "You're me friends," he said quietly.  "He's in
+there--dyin'.  I reckon Sinker got him.  He drug himself here last
+night and I took him in.  This is me home--and if you fellas is _men_,
+you'll let him die easy and quiet."
+
+"I'm from Missouri," said Shoop, with a hard laugh.  "You got to show
+me that he's--like you say, or--"
+
+Sundown leveled his gun at Shoop.  "I ain't lyin' to you, Bud.  Sinker
+was me friend.  And I ain't lyin' when I says that the fust fella that
+tries to tech him crosses over afore he does."
+
+Some one laughed.  Corliss touched Shoop's arm and whispered to him.
+With a curse the foreman turned and the men clumped out to the yard.
+
+"He's right," said Corliss.  "We'll wait."
+
+They stood around talking and commenting upon Sundown's defense of the
+Mexican.
+
+"'Course we could 'a' got him," said Shoop, "but it don't set right
+with me to be stood up by a tenderfoot.  Sundown's sure loco."
+
+"I don't know, Bud.  He's queer, all right, but this is his ranch.
+He's got a right to order us out."
+
+Shoop was about to retort when Sundown came to the doorway.  "I guess
+you can come in now," he said.  "And you won't need no gun."  The men
+shuffled awkwardly, and finally led by Corliss they filed into the room
+and one by one they stepped to the open door of the bedroom and gazed
+within.  Then they filed out silently.
+
+"I'll send over some grub," said Corliss as they mounted.  Sundown
+nodded.
+
+The band of riders moved slowly back toward the Concho.  About halfway
+on their homeward journey they met Loring in a buckboard.  The old
+sheep-man drove up and would have passed them without speaking had not
+Corliss reined across the road and halted him.
+
+"One of your herders--'Sandro--is over at the water-hole," said
+Corliss.  "If you're headed for Antelope, you might stop by and take
+him along."
+
+Loring glared at the Concho riders, seemed about to speak, but instead
+clucked to his team.  The riders reined out of his way and he swept
+past, gazing straight ahead, grim, silent, and utterly without fear.
+He understood the rancher's brief statement, and he already knew of the
+killing of Sinker.  'Sandro's assistant, becoming frightened, had left
+his wounded companion on the mesas, and had ridden to the Loring rancho
+with the story of the fight and its ending.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+THE PEACEMAKER
+
+"But I ain't no dove--more like a stork, I guess," reflected Sundown as
+he stood in the doorway of his house.  "And storks brings
+responsibilities in baskets, instead of olive branches.  No wonder ole
+man Noah fired the dove right out ag'in--bringin' him olives what
+wa'n't pickled, instead of a bunch of grapes or somethin' you can eat!
+And that there dove never come back.  I reckon he figured if he did,
+ole man Noah'd shoot him.  Anyhow, if I ain't no dove of peace, I'm
+goin' to do the best I can.  Everybody 'round here seems like they was
+tryin' to ride right into trouble wishful, 'stead of reinin' to one
+side an' givin' trouble a chance to get past.  Gee Gosh!  If I'd 'a'
+knowed what I know now--afore I hit this country--but I'm here.
+Anyhow, they's nothin' wrong with the country.  It's the folks, like it
+'most always is.  Reckon I ought to keep on buildin' fence this
+mornin', but that there peace idea 's got to singin' in me head.  I'll
+jest saddle up Pill and ride over and tell ole man Loring that I'm
+takin' care of his sheep charitable what's been hangin' around here
+since 'Sandro passed over.  Mebby that'll kind o' start the talk.  Then
+I can slip him a couple of ideas 'bout how neighbors ought to act.
+Huh!  Me nussin' them sheep for two weeks and more, an' me just dyin'
+for a leetle taste o' mutton.  Mebby his herders was scared to come for
+'em, I dunno."
+
+
+Sundown was established at the water-hole.  Corliss had sent a team to
+Antelope for provisions, implements, and fencing.  Meanwhile, Sundown
+had been industrious, not alone because he felt the necessity for
+something to occupy his time, but that he wanted to forget the tragedy
+he had so recently witnessed.  And he had dreams of a more
+companionable future which included Mexican dishes served hot, evenings
+of blissful indolence accompanied by melody, and a Seņora who would
+sing "Linda Rosa, Adios!" which would be the "piece de resistance" of
+his pastoral menu.
+
+The "tame cow," which he had so ardently longed for, now grazed
+soulfully in a temporary enclosure out on the mesa.  Two young and
+sprightly black pigs prospected the confines of their littered
+hermitage.  Four gaunt hens and a more or less dilapidated rooster
+stalked about the yard, no longer afraid of the watchful Chance, who
+had previously introduced himself to the rooster without the formality
+of Sundown's presence as mediator.  Sundown was proud of his chickens.
+The cow, however, had been, at first, rather a disappointment to him.
+Milk had not heretofore been a conspicuous portion of Sundown's diet,
+nor was he versed in the art of obtaining it except over the counter in
+tins.  With due formality and some trepidation he had placed a pail
+beneath "Gentle Annie" as he called her, and had waited patiently.  So
+had Gentle Annie, munching a reflective cud, and Sundown, in a
+metaphorical sense, doing likewise.  He had walked around the cow
+inspecting her with an anxious and critical eye.  She seemed healthful
+and voluptuously contented.  Yet no milk came.  Bud Shoop, having at
+that moment arrived with the team, sized up the situation.  When he had
+recovered enough poise to stand without assistance and had wiped the
+wild tears from his eyes, he instructed the amazed Sundown as to
+certain manipulations necessary to produce the desired result.  "Huh!
+Folks says cows _give_ milk.  But I reckon that ain't right," Sundown
+had asserted.  "You got to take it away from 'em."  So he had taken
+what he could, which was not, at first, a great deal.
+
+This momentous morning he had decided that his unsolicited mission was
+to induce or persuade Loring to arbitrate the question of
+grazing-rights.  It was a strange idea, although not incompatible with
+Sundown's peculiar temperament.  He felt justified in taking the
+initiative; especially in view of the fact that Loring's sheep had been
+trespassing on his property.
+
+He saddled "Pill," and called to Chance.  "See here, Chance, you and
+me's pals.  No, you ain't comin' this trip.  You stick around and keep
+your eye on me stock.  What's mine is yourn exceptin' the rooster.
+Speakin' poetical, he belongs to them hens.  If he ain't here when I
+get back, I can pretty nigh tell by the leavin's where he is.  When I
+git back I look to find you hungry, sabe?  And not sneakin' around
+lookin' at me edgeways with leetle feathers stickin' to your nose.  I
+reckon you understand."
+
+Chance followed his master to the road, and there the dog sat gazing at
+the bobbing figure of Sundown until it was but a speck in the morning
+sunshine.  Then Chance fell to scratching his ear with his hind foot,
+rose and shook himself, and stalked indolently to the yard where he lay
+with his nose along his outstretched fore legs, watching the proscribed
+rooster with an eloquence of expression that illustrated the proverbial
+power of mind over matter.
+
+Sundown kept Pill loping steadily.  It was a long ride, but Sundown's
+mind was so preoccupied with the preparing of his proposed appeal to
+the sheep-man that the morning hours and the sunlit miles swept past
+unnoticed.  The dark green of the acacias bordering the hacienda, the
+twinkling white of the speeding windmill, and the dull brown of the
+adobes became distinct and separate colors against the far edge of the
+eastern sky.  He reined his pony to a walk.  "When you're in a hurry to
+do somethin'," he informed his horse, "it ain't always good politics to
+let folks know it.  So we'll ride up easy, like we had money to spend,
+and was jest lookin' over the show-case."  And Pill was not averse to
+the suggestion.
+
+Sundown dismounted, opened the gate, and swinging to the saddle, rode
+up to the ranch-house.  Had he known that Anita, the daughter of Chico
+Miguel, was at that moment talking with the wife of one of Loring's
+herders; that she was describing him in glowing terms to her friend,
+and moreover, as he passed up the driveway, that Anita had turned
+swiftly, dropping the pitcher of milk which she had just brought from
+the cooling-room as she saw him, he might well have been excused from
+promulgating his mission of peace with any degree of coherence.
+Sublimely ignorant of her presence,--spiritualists and sentimentalists
+to the contrary in like instances,--he rode directly to the hacienda,
+asked for the patron, and was shown to the cool interior of the house
+by the mildly astonished Seņora.  Seņor Loring would return presently.
+Would the gentleman refresh himself by resting until the Seņor
+returned?  Possibly she herself could receive the message--or the
+Seņorita, who was in the garden?
+
+"Thanks, lady.  I reckon Pill is dry--wants a drink--agua--got a
+thirst.  No, ma'am.  I can wait.  I mean me horse."
+
+"Oh!  Si!  But Juan would attend to the horse and at once."
+
+"Thanks, lady.  And if Miss Loring ain't too busy, I reckon I'd like to
+see her a minute."
+
+The Seņora disappeared.  Sundown could hear her call for Juan.
+Presently Nell Loring came to the room, checked an exclamation of
+surprise as she recognized him, and stepping forward, offered her hand.
+"You're from Mr. Corliss.  I remember. . . .  Is Chance all right now?"
+
+"Yes, ma'am.  He is enjoyin' fust-rate health.  He eats reg'lar--and
+rabbits in between.  But I ain't from the Concho, lady.  I'm from me
+own ranch, down there at the water-hole.  Me boss ain't got nothin' to
+do with me bein' here.  It's me own idea.  I come friendly and wishful
+to make a little talk to your pa."
+
+Wondering what could have induced Sundown to call at her home,
+especially under the existing circumstances, Nell Loring made him
+welcome.  After he had washed and strolled over to the stables to see
+to his horse.  Sundown, returning, declined an invitation to come in,
+and sat on the veranda, smoking cigarettes and making mental note of
+the exterior details of the hacienda: its garden, shade-trees, corrals,
+and windmill.  Should prosperity smile upon him, he would have a
+windmill, be Gosh!  Not a white one--though white wasn't so bad--but
+something tasty; red, white and blue, mebby--a real American windmill,
+and in the front of the house a flagpole with the American flag.  And
+he would keep the sign "American Hotel" above the gate.  There was
+nothin' like bein' paterotic.  Mexican ranches--some of 'em--was purty
+enough in a lazy kind of style, but he was goin' to let folks know that
+a white man was runnin' the water-hole ranch!
+
+And all unknown to him, Anita stood in the doorway of one of the
+herder's 'dobes, more than ever impressed by the evident importance of
+her beau-idéal of chivalry, who took the kick of horses as a matter of
+course, and rose smilingly from such indignities to present flowers to
+her with eyes which spake of love and lips that expressed, as best they
+could, admiration.  Anita was a bit disappointed and perhaps a bit
+pleased that he had not as yet seen her.  As it was she could worship
+from a distance that lent security to her tender embarrassment.  The
+tall one must, indeed, be a great caballero to be made welcome at the
+patron's home.  Assuredly he was not as the other vaqueros who visited
+the patron.  _He_ sat upon the veranda and smoked in a lordly way,
+while they inevitably held forth in the less conspicuous latitude of
+the bunk-house and its environs.  Anita was happy.
+
+Sundown, elated by the righteousness of his mission as harbinger of
+peace, met Loring returning from one of the camps with gracious
+indifference to the other's gruff welcome.
+
+They sat at the table and ate in silence for a while.  With the
+refreshing coffee Sundown's embarrassment melted.  His weird command of
+language, enhanced by the opportunity for exercise in a good cause,
+astonished and eventually interested his hearers.  He did not approach
+his subject directly, but mounted the metaphorical steps of his rostrum
+leisurely.  He discoursed on the opportunities afforded by the almost
+limitless free range.  He hinted at the possibility of internecine
+strife eventually awakening the cupidity of "land-sharks" all over the
+country.  If there was land worth killing folks for, there was land
+worth stealing.  If the Concho Valley was once thrown open to
+homesteaders, then farewell free range and fat cattle and sheep.  And
+the mention of sheep led him to remark that there was a small band at
+the water-hole, uncared-for save by himself.  "And he was no sheep-man,
+but he sure hated to see any critters sufferin' for water, so he had
+allowed the sheep to drink at the water-hole."  Then he paused,
+anticipating the obvious question to which he made answer: "Yes.  The
+water-hole ranch is me ranch.  I filed on her the same day that you and
+Miss Loring come to Usher.  Incondescent to that I was in the calaboose
+at Antelope.  Somebody tole the sheriff that I was a suspicious
+character.  Mebby I am, judgin' from the outside, but inside I ain't.
+You can't always tell what the works is like by the case, I ain't got
+no hard feelin's for nobody, and I'm wishful that folks don't have no
+hard feelin's ag'in' me or anybody else."
+
+Loring listened in silence.  Finally he spoke.  "I'll take care of my
+sheep.  I'll send for 'em to-day.  Looks like you're tryin' to play
+square, but you don't figure in this deal.  Jack Corliss is at the
+bottom of it and he's using you.  And he'll use you hard.  What you
+goin' to do with the overflow from the water-hole?"
+
+"I'm goin' to irrigate me ranch," said Sundown.
+
+Loring nodded.  "And cut off the water from everybody?"
+
+"Not from me friends."
+
+"Which means the Concho."
+
+"Sure!  Jack Corliss is me friend.  But that ain't all.  If you want to
+be me friend, I ain't kickin' even if you did tell the sheriff he ought
+to git acquainted with me closer.  I'm goin' to speak right out.  I
+reckon it's the best way.  I got a proposition.  If you'll quit sickin'
+them herders onto cowboys and if Jack'll quit settin' the punchers at
+your herders, I'll open up me spring and run her down to where they's
+water for everybody.  If cows comes, they drink.  If sheep comes,
+_they_ drink.  If folks comes, they drink, likewise.  But no fightin'."
+
+Sundown as arbiter of peace felt that he had, in truth, "spoken right
+out."  He was not a little surprised at himself and a bit fearful.  Yet
+he felt justified in his suggestion.  Theoretically he had made a fair
+offer.  Practically his offer was of no value.  Sheep and cattle could
+not occupy the same range.  Loring grumbled something and shoved back
+his chair.  They rose and stepped to the veranda.
+
+"If you can get Corliss to agree to what you say--and quit runnin'
+cattle on the water-hole side--I'll quit runnin' sheep there."  And
+Loring waved his hand toward the north.
+
+"But the Concho is on the west side--" began Sundown.
+
+"And cattle are grazin' on the east side," said Loring.
+
+Sundown scratched his head.  "I reckon I got to see Jack," he said.
+
+"And you'll waste time, at that," said Loring.  "Look here!  Are you
+ranchin' to hold down the water-hole for Corliss or to make a livin'?"
+
+Sundown hesitated.  He gazed across the yard to the distant mesa.
+Suddenly a figure crossed the pathway to the gate.  He jerked up his
+head and stood with mouth open.  It couldn't be--but, yes, it was
+Anita--Linda Rosa!  Gee Gosh!  He turned to Loring.  "I been tellin'
+you the truth," he said simply.  "'Course I got to see me boss, now.
+But it makes no difference what he says, after this.  I'm ranchin' for
+meself, because I'm--er--thinkin' of gettin' married."
+
+Without further explanation, Sundown stalked to the stable and got his
+horse.  He came to the hacienda and made his adieux.  Then he mounted
+and rode slowly down the roadway toward the gate.
+
+Anita's curiosity had overcome her timidity.  Quite accidentally she
+stood toying with a bud that she had picked from the flower-bordered
+roadway.  She turned as Sundown jingled up and met him with a murmur of
+surprise and pleasure.  He swung from his horse hat in hand and
+advanced, bowing.  Anita flushed and gazed at the ground.
+
+"'Mornin', Seņorita!  I sure am jest hoppin' glad to see you ag'in.  If
+I'd 'a' knowed you was here . . .  But I come on business--important.
+Reckon you're visitin' friends, eh?"
+
+"Si, Seņor!"
+
+"Do you come here reg'lar?"
+
+"Only to see the good aunt sometimes."
+
+"Uhuh.  I kind of wish your aunt was hangin' out at the Concho, though.
+This here ain't a reg'lar stoppin'-place for me."
+
+"You go away?" queried Anita.
+
+"I reckon I got to after what I said up there to the house.  Yes, I'm
+goin' back to feed me pigs and Chance and the hens.  I set up
+housekeepin' since I seen you.  Got a ranch of me own--that I was
+tellin' you about.  You ought to see it!  Some class!  But it's mighty
+lonely, evenin's."
+
+Anita sighed and glanced at Sundown.  Then her gaze dwelt on the bud
+she held.  "Si, Seņor--it is lonely in the evenings," she said, and
+although she spoke in Spanish, Sundown did not misunderstand.
+
+He grinned hugely.  "You sure don't need to talk American to tell it,"
+he said as one who had just made a portentous discovery.  "It was
+worryin' me how we was goin' to get along--me short on the Spanish and
+you short on my talk.  But I reckon we'll get along fine.  Your pa in
+good health, and your ma?"
+
+Anita nodded shyly.
+
+Sundown was at a loss to continue this pleasant conversation.  He
+brightened, however, as a thought inspired him.  "And the leetle hoss,
+is he doin' well?"
+
+"That Sarko I do not like that he should keeck you!" flamed Anita, and
+Sundown's cup of happiness was full to overflowing.
+
+Quite unconsciously he was leading his horse toward the gate and quite
+unconsciously Anita was walking beside him.  Forgotten was the Loring
+ranch, the Concho, his own homestead.  He was with his inamorata, the
+"Linda Rosa" of his dreams.
+
+At the gateway he turned to her.  "I'm comin' over to see your folks
+soon as I git things to runnin' on me ranch.  Keeps a fella busy, but
+I'm sure comin'.  I ain't got posies to growin' yet, but I'm goin' to
+have some--like them," and he indicated the bud which she held.
+
+"You like it?" she queried.  And with bashful gesture she gave him the
+rose, smiling as he immediately stuck it in the band of his sombrero.
+
+Then he held out his hand.  "Linda Rosa," he said gently, "I can't make
+the big talk in the Spanish lingo or I'd say how I was lovin' you and
+thinkin' of you reg'lar and deep.  'Course I got to put your pa and ma
+wise first.  But some day I'm comin'--me and Chance--and tell you that
+I'm ready--that me ranch is doin' fine, and that I sure want you to
+come over and boss the outfit.  I used to reckon that I didn't want no
+woman around bossin' things, but I changed me mind.  Adios!
+Seņorita!--for I sure got to feed them hens."
+
+Sundown extended his hand.  Anita laid her own plump brown hand in
+Sundown's hairy paw.  For an instant he hesitated, moved by a most
+natural impulse to kiss her.  Her girlish face, innocently sweet and
+trusting, her big brown eyes glowing with admiration and wonder, as she
+gazed up at him, offered temptation and excuse enough.  It was not
+timidity nor lack of opportunity that caused Sundown to hesitate, but
+rather that innate respect for women which distinguishes the gentle man
+from the slovenly generalization "gentleman."  "Adios! Linda Rosa!" he
+murmured, and stooping, kissed her brown fingers.  Then he gestured
+with magnificence toward the flowers bordering the roadway.  "And you
+sure are the lindaest little Linda Rosa of the bunch!"
+
+And Anita's heart was filled with happiness as she watched her brave
+caballero ride away, so tall, so straight, and of such the gentle
+manner and the royal air!
+
+It was inevitable that he should turn and wave to her, but it was not
+inevitable that she should have thrown him a pretty kiss with the grace
+of her pent-up emotion--but she did.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+AN UNEXPECTED VISIT
+
+It was late in the evening when Sundown returned to his ranch.  Chance
+welcomed him with vocal and gymnastic abandon.  Sundown hastened to his
+"tame cow" and milked her while the four hens peeped and clucked from
+their roost, evidently disturbed by the light of the lantern.
+Meanwhile Chance lay gravely watching his master until Gentle Annie had
+been relieved of the full and creamy quota of her donation to the
+maintenance of the household.  Then the wolf-dog followed his master to
+the kitchen where they enjoyed, in separate dishes, Gentle Annie's warm
+contribution, together with broken bread and "a leetle salt to bring
+out the gamey flavor."
+
+Solicitous of the welfare of his stock, as he termed them, he betook
+himself to the hen-house to feed the chickens.  "Huh!" he exclaimed,
+raising the lantern and peering round, "there's one rooster missin'!"
+_The_ rooster had in truth disappeared.  He put down the lantern and
+turned to Chance.  "Lemme look at your mouth.  No, they ain't no signs
+on you.  Hold on!  Be Gosh, if they ain't some leetle red hairs
+stickin' to your chops.  What's the answer?"
+
+Chance whined and wagged his tail.  "You don't look like you was
+guilty.  And that there rooster wasn't sportin' red hair the last time
+I seen him.  Did you eat him fust and then swaller a rabbit to cover
+his tracks?  I reckon not.  You're some dog--but you ain't got
+boiler-room for a full-size Rhode Island Red and a rabbit and two
+quarts of bread-and-milk.  It ain't reas'nable.  I got to investigate."
+
+The dog seemed to understand.  He leaped up and trotted to the yard,
+turning his head and silently coaxing his master to follow him.
+Sundown, with a childish and most natural faith in Chance's
+intelligence, followed him to the fence, scrambled through and trailed
+him out on the mesa.  In a little hollow Chance stopped and stood with
+crooked fore leg.  Sundown stalked up.  At his feet fluttered his red
+rooster and not far from it lay the body of a full-grown coyote.
+Chance ran to the coyote and diving in shook the inanimate shape and
+growled.  "Huh!  Showin' me what you done to him for stealin' our
+rooster, eh?  Well, you sure are goin' to get suthin' extra for this!
+You caught him with the goods--looks like.  And look here!"--and
+Sundown deposited the lantern on a knoll and sat down facing the dog.
+"What I'm goin' to give you that extra for ain't for killin' the
+coyote.  That is your business when I ain't to home.  You could 'a'
+finished off Jimmy"--and he gestured toward the rooster--"and the
+evidence would 'a' been in your favor, seein' as you was wise to show
+me the coyote.  I got some candy put by for--for later, if she likes
+it, but we're goin' to bust open that box of candy and celebrate.  Got
+to see if I can repair Jimmy fust, though, or else use the axe.  I
+dunno."
+
+Jimmy was a sad spectacle.  His tail-feathers were about gone and one
+leg was maimed, yet he still showed the fighting spirit of his New
+England sires, for, as Sundown essayed to pick him up, he pecked and
+squawked energetically.
+
+They returned to the house, where Sundown examined the bedraggled bird
+critically.  "I ain't no doc, but I have been practiced on some meself.
+Looks like his left kicker was bruk.  Guess it's the splints for him
+and nussin' by hand.  Here, you!  Let go that button!  That ain't a
+bug!  There!  'T ain't what you'd call a perfessional job, but if you
+jest quit runnin' around nights and take care of your health, mebby
+you'll come through.  Don' know what them hens'll think, though.  You
+sure ain't no Anner Dominus no more.  If you was a lady hen, you could
+pertend you was wearin' evenin' dress like--low-neck and suspenders.
+But bein' a he, 't ain't the style.  Wonder if you got your crow left?
+You ain't got a whole lot more to tell you from jest a hen."
+
+With Jimmy installed in a box of straw in the kitchen, the pigs fed,
+and Gentle Annie grazing contentedly, Sundown felt able to relax.  It
+had been a strenuous day for him.  He drew a chair to the stove, and
+before he sat down he brought forth from beneath the bed a highly
+colored cardboard box on which was embossed a ribbon of blue sealed
+with a gold paster-seal.  Chance watched him gravely.  It was a
+ceremony.  Sundown opened the box and picking out a chocolate held it
+up that Chance might realize fully that it was a ceremony.  The dog's
+nose twitched and he licked his chops.  "Tastes good a'ready, eh?
+Well, it's yourn."  And he solemnly gave Chance the chocolate.  "Gee
+Gosh!  What'd you do with it?  That ain't no way to eat candy!  You
+want to chew her slow and kind o' hang on till she ain't there.  Then
+you get your money's worth.  Want another?"
+
+Later Sundown essayed to smoke, but found the flavor of chocolate
+incompatible with the enjoyment of tobacco.  Chance dozed by the fire,
+and Jimmy, with neck stretched above the edge of the box, watched
+Sundown with beady, blinking eyes.
+
+
+Sundown slept late next morning.  The lowing of Gentle Annie as she
+mildly endeavored to make it known that milking-time was past, the
+muffled grunting of the two pigs as they rooted in the mud or poked
+flat flexible noses through the bars, the restless padding of Chance to
+and from the bedroom, merely harmonized in chorus with audible slumbers
+until one of the hens cackled.  Then Jimmy, from his box near the
+stove, lifted his clarion shrill in reply to the hen.  Sundown sat up,
+scratched his ear, and arose.
+
+He was returning from a practice of five-finger exercise on Gentle
+Annie, busy with his thoughts and the balance of the pail, when a shout
+brought his gaze to the road.  John Corliss and Bud Shoop waved him
+greeting, and dismounting led their horses to the yard.
+
+"Saves me a ride," muttered Sundown.  Then, "How, folks!  Come right
+in!"
+
+He noticed that the ponies seemed tired--that the cinchas were
+mud-spattered and that the riders seemed weary.  He invited his guests
+to breakfast.  After the meal the three foregathered outside the house.
+
+"That was right good beef you fed us," remarked Shoop, slightly raising
+one eyebrow as Corliss glanced at him.
+
+"The best in the country," cheerfully assented Sundown.
+
+"How you making it, Sun?"
+
+"Me?  Oh, I'm wigglin' along.  Come home last night and found Jimmy
+with his leg bruk.  Everything else was all right."
+
+"Jimmy?"
+
+"Uhuh.  Me rooster."
+
+"Coyote grab him?"
+
+"Uhuh.  And Chance fixed Mr. Coyote.  I was to Loring's yesterday on
+business."
+
+Shoop glanced at Corliss who had thus far remained silent.
+
+"We had a little business to talk over," said the rancher.  "You're
+located now.  I'm going to run some cattle down this way next week.
+Some of mine and some of the Two-Bar-O."  Corliss, who had been
+standing, stepped to the doorway and sat down.  Shoop and Sundown
+followed him and lay outstretched on the warm earth.  "Funny thing,
+Bud, about that Two-Bar-O steer we found cut up."
+
+"Sure was," said Shoop.
+
+"Did he get in a fence?" queried Sundown.
+
+"No.  He was killed for beef.  We ran across him yesterday and did some
+looking around last night.  Trailed over this way to have a talk."
+
+"I'm right glad to see you.  I wanted to speak a little piece meself
+after you get through."
+
+"All right.  Here's the story."  And Corliss gazed across the mesa for
+a moment.  "The South Spring's gone dry.  The fork is so low that only
+a dozen head can drink at once.  It's been a mighty dry year, and the
+river is about played out except in the caņon, and the stock can't get
+to the water there.  This is about the only natural supply outside the
+ranch.  I want to put a couple of men in here and ditch to that hollow
+over there.  It'll take about all your water, but we got to have it.  I
+want you to put in a gas-engine and pump for us.  Maybe we'll have to
+pipe to tanks before we get through.  I'll give you fifty a month to
+run the engine."
+
+"I'll sure keep that leetle ole gas-engine coughin' regular," said
+Sundown.  "I was thinkin' of somethin' like that meself.  You see I
+seen Loring yesterday.  I told him that anybody that was wishful could
+water stock here so long as she held out--except there was to be no
+shootin' and killin', and the like.  Ole man Loring says to tell you
+what I told him and see what you said.  I reckon he'll take his sheep
+out of here if you folks'll take your cattle off the east side.  I
+ain't playin' no favorites.  You been my friend--you and Bud.  You come
+and make me a proposition to pump water for you--and the fifty a month
+is for the water.  That's business.  Loring ain't said nothin' about
+buyin' water from me, so you get it.  You see I was kind of figurin'
+somethin' like this when I first come to this here place--'way back
+when I met you that evenin'.  Says I to meself, 'a fella couldn't even
+raise robins on this here farm, but from the looks of that water-hole
+he could raise water, and folks sure got to have water in this
+country.'  I was thinkin' of irrigatin' and raisin' alfalfa and
+veg'tables, but fifty a month sounds good to me.  Bein' a puncher
+meself, I ain't got no use for sheep, but I was willin' to give ole man
+Loring a chance.  If the mesas is goin' dry on the east side, what's he
+goin' to do?"
+
+"I don't know, Sun.  He's got a card up his sleeve, and you want to
+stay right on the job.  Bud here got a tip in Antelope that a bunch of
+Mexicans came in last week from Loring's old ranch in New Mexico.  Some
+of 'em are herders and some of 'em are worse.  I reckon he'll try to
+push his sheep across and take up around here.  He'll try it at night.
+If he does and you get on to it before we do, just saddle Pill and fan
+it for the Concho."
+
+"Gee Gosh!  But that means more fightin'!"
+
+Shoop and Corliss said nothing.  Sundown gazed at them questioningly.
+
+Presently Corliss gestured toward the south.  "They'll make it
+interesting for you.  Loring's an old-timer and he won't quit.  This
+thing won't be settled until something happens--and I reckon it's going
+to happen soon."
+
+"Well, I'm sure sittin' on the dynamite," said Sundown lugubriously.
+"I reckoned to settle down and git m--me farm to goin' and keep out of
+trouble.  Now it looks like I was the cat what fell out of a tree into
+a dog-fight by mistake.  They was nothin' left of that cat."
+
+Shoop laughed.  "We'll see that you come out all right."
+
+Sundown accepted this meager consolation with a grimace.  Then his face
+beamed.  "Say!  What's the matter of me tellin' the sheriff that
+there's like to be doin's--and mebby he could come over and kind of
+scare 'em off."
+
+"The idea is all right, Sun.  But Jim is a married man.  Most of his
+deputies are married.  If it comes to a mix some of 'em 'd get it sure.
+Now there isn't a married man on the Concho--which makes a lot of
+difference.  Sabe?"
+
+"I reckon that's right," admitted Sundown, "Killin' a married man is
+like killin' the whole fambly."
+
+"And you're a single man--so you're all right," said Shoop.
+
+"Gee Gosh!  Mebby that ought to make me feel good, but it don't.
+Supposin' a fella was goin' to get married?"
+
+"Then--he'd--better wait," said Corliss, smiling at his foreman.
+
+Corliss stood up and yawned.  "Oh, say, Sun, where'd you get that
+beef?" he asked casually.
+
+"The beef?  Why, a Chola come along here day afore yesterday and say if
+I wanted some meat.  I says yes.  Then he rides off and purty soon he
+comes back with a hind-quarter on his saddle.  I give him two dollars
+for it.  It looked kind of funny, but I thought he was mebby campin'
+out there somewhere and peddlin' meat."
+
+Shoop and Corliss glanced at each other.  "They don't peddle meat that
+way in this country, Sun.  What did the Mexican look like?"
+
+"Kind of fat and greasy-like, and he was as cross-eyed as a rabbit
+watchin' two dogs to onct."
+
+"That so?  Let's have a look at that hind-quarter."
+
+"Sure!  Over there in the well-shed."
+
+When Corliss returned, he nodded to Shoop.  Then he turned to Sundown.
+"We found a Two-Bar-O steer killed right close to here yesterday.
+Looks queer.  Well, we'll be fanning it.  I'll send to Antelope and
+have them order the pump and some pipe.  Got plenty of grub?"
+
+"Plenty 'nough for a couple of weeks."
+
+"All right.  So-long.  Keep your eye on things."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+VAMOSE, EH?
+
+The intermittent popping of the gasoline engine, as it forced water to
+the big, unpainted tank near the water-hole, became at first monotonous
+and finally irritating.  Sundown, clad in oil-spotted overalls that did
+not by many inches conceal his riding-boots and his Spanish spurs,
+puttered about the engine until he happened to glance at the distant
+tank.  A silvery rill of water was pouring from the top of the tank.
+He shut off the engine, wiped his hands, and strode to the house.
+
+He was gone a long time, so long in fact that Chance decided to
+investigate.  The dog got up, stretched lazily, and padded to the
+doorway.  He could hear Sundown muttering and shuffling about in the
+bedroom.  Chance stalked in quietly and stood gazing at his master.
+Sundown had evidently been taking a bath,--not in the pail of water
+that stood near him, but obviously round and about it.  At the moment
+he was engaged in tying a knot in the silk bandanna about his neck.
+Chance became animated.  His master was going somewhere!  Sundown
+turned his head, glancing at the dog with a preoccupied eye.  The knot
+adjusted to his satisfaction, he knelt and drew a large box from
+beneath the bed.  From the box he took an immaculate and exceedingly
+wide-brimmed Stetson with an exceedingly high crown.  He dented the
+crown until the hat had that rakish appearance dear to the heart of the
+cowboy.  Then he took the foot-square looking-glass from the wall and
+studied the effect at various and more or less unsatisfactory angles.
+Again he knelt--after depositing the hat on the bed--and emerged with a
+pair of gorgeous leather chaps that glittered with the polished silver
+of conchas from waist-band to heel.  Next he drew on a pair of
+elaborate gauntlets embellished with hand-worked silk roses of crimson.
+Then he glanced at his boots.  They were undoubtedly serviceable, but
+more or less muddy and stained.  That wouldn't do at all!  Striding to
+the kitchen he poked about and finally unearthed a box of stove-polish
+that he had purchased and laid away for future use against that happy
+time when stove-polish would be doubly appreciated.  The metallic
+luster of his boots was not altogether satisfactory, but it would do.
+"This here bein' chief engineer of a popcorn machine ain't what it's
+said to be in the perspectus.  Gets a fella lookin' greasy and feelin'
+greasy, but the pay kind of makes up for it.  Me first month's wages
+blowed in for outside decoratin'--but I reckon the grub'll hold out for
+a spell."
+
+Then he strode from the house and made his rounds, inspecting the pigs,
+shooing the chickens to their coop, and finally making a short
+pilgrimage to where Gentle Annie was grazing.  After he had saddled
+"Pill," he returned to the house and reappeared with a piece of
+wrapping-paper on which he had printed:--
+
+
+Help yourself to grub--but no fighting on thees premisus.
+
+SUNDOWN, Propriter.
+
+
+"It's all right trustin' folks," he remarked as he gazed proudly at the
+sign and still more proudly at the signature.  "And I sure hate to put
+up anything that looks kind of religious, but these days I don't trust
+nobody but meself, and I sure have a hard time doin' that, knowin' how
+crooked I could be if I tried."
+
+He gathered up the reins and mounted Pill.  "Come on, Chance!" he
+called.  "We don't need any rooster-police to-day.  Jimmy's in there
+talkin' to his hens, and like as not cussin' because I shet him up.
+And he sure ought to be glad he ain't goin' on crutches."
+
+He rode out to the mesa and, turning from the trail, took as direct a
+course as he could approximate for the home of Chico Miguel, and
+incidentally Anita.  His mission would have been obvious to an utter
+stranger.  He shone and glistened from head to heel--his face with the
+inner light of anticipation and his boots with the effulgence of
+hastily applied stove-polish.
+
+He rode slowly, for he wished to collect himself, that his errand might
+have all the grace of a chance visit and yet not lack the most
+essential significance.  He did not stop to reason that Anita's father
+and mother were anything but blind.
+
+The day was exceptionally hot.  The sun burned steadily on the ripening
+bunch-grass.  His pony's feet swept aside bright flowers that tilted
+their faces eagerly like the faces of questioning children.  He glanced
+at his watch.  "Got to move along, Pill.  Reckon we'll risk havin'
+somethin' to say when we get there--and not cook her up goin' along.
+It sure is hot.  Huh!  That there butte over there looks jest like a
+city athletic club with muscles all on its front of fellas wrastlin'
+and throwin' things at themselves.  Wisht I had a big lookin'-glass so
+I could see meself comin'.  Gee Gosh, but she's hot!"
+
+He put the horse to a lope, and with the subdued rhythm of the pony's
+feet came Euterpe with a song.  Recitation of verse at a lope is apt to
+be punctuated according to the physical contour of the ground:--
+
+
+  "In the Pull--man _car_ with turnin' _fans_,
+  The desert _looks_ like a lovely p--_lace_.
+  But crossin' a_lone_ on the _burn_in' sands,
+  She's hell, with a _grin_ on her face."
+
+
+"Got to slow up to get that right," he said, "or jest stop an' git off.
+But we ain't got time.  'Oh, down in Arizona there's a . . .'  No.  I
+reckon I won't.  I want to sing, but I can't take no risks."
+
+That "the Colonel's lady and Julie O'Grady are sisters under their
+skins," is not to be doubted.  That Romeo and Sundown are brothers,
+with the odds slightly in favor of Sundown, is apparent to those who
+have been, are, or are willing to be, in love.  "Will this plume, these
+trunks and hose, this bonnet please my fair Juliet?" sighs Romeo to his
+mirror.  And "Will these here chaps and me bandanna and me new Stetson
+make a hit with me leetle Anita?" asks Sundown of the mesas.
+
+That the little Anita was pleased, nay, overwhelmed by the arrival of
+her gorgeous caballero was more than apparent to the anxious Sundown.
+She came running to the gate and stood with clasped hands while he
+bowed for the seventh time and slowly dismounted, giving his leg an
+unnecessary shake that the full effect of spur and concha might not be
+lost.  He felt the high importance of his visit, and Anita also
+surmised that something unusual was about to happen.  He strode
+magnificently to the house and again doffed his Stetson to the
+astonished and smiling Seņora.  Evidently the strange vaquero had met
+with fortune.  With experienced eye the mother of Anita swiftly
+estimated the monetary outlay necessary to possess such an equipment.
+It was well to be courted, of that she was reminiscently certain.  Yet
+it was also well to be courted by one who bore the earmarks--so to
+speak--of prosperity.  Sundown was made heartily welcome.  After they
+had had dinner,--Chico Miguel would return at night as usual,--Sundown
+mentally besought his stars to aid him, lend him eloquence and the
+Seņora understanding, and found excuse to follow the Seņora to the
+kitchen where he offered to wipe the dishes.  This she would not hear
+of, but being wise in her generation she dismissed Anita on a trivial
+errand and motioned her guest to a seat.  What was said is a matter of
+interest only to those immediately concerned.  Love is his own
+interpreter and labors willingly, yet in this instance his limitations
+must be excused by the result.  The Seņora and Sundown came to a
+perfect understanding.  The cabellero was welcome to make the state of
+his heart known to Anita.  As for her father, she--the Seņora--would
+attend to him.  And was Sundown fond of the tortillas?  He was, be
+Gosh!  It was well.  They would have tortillas that evening.  Chico
+Miguel was especially fond of the tortillas.  They made him of the
+pleasant disposition and induced him to tune the big guitar.
+
+The Seņora would take her siesta.  Possibly her guest would smoke and
+entertain Anita with news from the Concho and of the Patron Loring and
+of his own rancho.  Anita was not of what you say the kind to do the
+much talking, but she had a heart.  Of that the Seņora had reason to be
+assured.  Had not Anita gone, each day, to the gate and stood gazing
+down the road?  Surely there was nothing to see save the mesas.  Had
+she not begged to be allowed to visit the Loring hacienda not of so
+very long time past?  And Anita had not been to the Loring hacienda for
+a year or more.  Such things were significant.  And the Seņora gestured
+toward her own bosom, implying that she of a surety knew from which
+quarter the south wind blew.
+
+All of which delighted the already joyous Sundown.  He saw before him a
+flower-bordered pathway to his happiness, and incidentally, as he gazed
+down the pathway toward the gate of Chico Miguel's homestead, he saw
+Anita standing pensively beneath the shade of an acacia, pulling a
+flower to pieces and casting quick glances at the house.  "Good-night,
+Seņora,--I mean--er--here's hopin' you have a good sleep.  It sure is
+refreshin' this hot weather."  The Seņora nodded and disappeared in the
+bedroom.  Sundown strode jingling down the pathway, a brave figure in
+his glittering chaps and tinkling spurs.  Anita's eyes were hidden
+beneath her long black lashes.  Perhaps she had anticipated something
+of that which followed--perhaps she anticipated even more.  In any
+event, Sundown was not a disappointment.  He asked her to sit beside
+him beneath the acacia.  Then he took her hand and squeezed it.  "Let's
+jest sit here and look out at them there mesas dancin' in the sun; and
+say, 'Nita, let's jest say nothin' for a spell.  I'm so right down
+happy that suthin' hurts me throat."
+
+When Chico Miguel returned in the dusk of evening, humming a song of
+the herd, he was not a little surprised to find that Anita was absent.
+He questioned the Seņora, who smiled as she bustled about the table.
+"Tortillas," she said, and was gratified at the change in Chico
+Miguel's expression.  Then she explained the presence of the broad new
+Stetson that lay on a chair, adding a gesture toward the gateway.  "It
+is the tall one and our daughter--he of the grand manner and the sad
+countenance.  It is possible that a new home will be thought of for
+Anita."  There had been conversations that afternoon with the tall
+caballero and understandings.  Chico Miguel was to wash himself and put
+on his black suit.  It was an event--and there were tortillas.
+
+Chico Miguel wondered why the hour of eating had been so long past.  To
+which the Seņora replied that he had just arrived, and, moreover, that
+she had already called to Anita this the third time, yet had had no
+response.  Chico Miguel moved toward the doorway, but his wife laid her
+hand on his arm.  "It is that you take the big guitar and play the
+'Linda Rosa, Adios.'  Then, to be sure, they will hear and the supper
+will not grow cold."
+
+Grumblingly Chico Miguel took his guitar and struck the opening chords
+of the song.  Presently up the pathway came two shadowy figures, close
+together and seemingly in no haste.  As they entered the house, Sundown
+apologized for having delayed supper, stating that he had been so
+interested in discussing with Anita the "best breed of chickens to
+raise for eggs," that other things had for the nonce not occupied his
+attention.  "And we're sure walkin' on music," he added.  "Jest
+steppin' along on the notes of that there song.  I reckon I got to get
+one of them leetle potato-bug mandolins and learn to tickle its neck.
+There's nothin' like music--exceptin'"--and he glanced at the blushing
+Anita--"exceptin' ranchin'."
+
+
+It was late when Sundown finally departed, He grew anxious as he rode
+across the mesas, wondering if he had not taken advantage, as it were,
+of Gentle Annie's good nature, and whether or not the chickens were
+very hungry.  Chance plodded beside him, a vague shadow in the
+starlight.  The going was more or less rough and Pill dodged many
+gopher-holes, to the peril of his rider's equilibrium.  Yet Sundown was
+glad that it was night.  There was nothing to divert him from the
+golden dreams of the future.  He felt that success, as he put it, "was
+hangin' around the door whinin' to be let in."  He formulated a creed
+for himself and told the stars.  "I believe in meself--you bet."  Yet
+he was honest with his soul.  "I know more about everything and less
+about anything than anybody--exceptin' po'try and cookin'.  But gettin'
+along ain't jest what you know.  It's more like what you do.  They's
+fellas knows more than I could learn in four thousand eight hundred and
+seventy-six years, but that don't help 'em get along none.  It's what
+you know inside what counts."
+
+He lapsed into silence and slouched in the saddle.  Presently he
+nodded, recovered, and nodded again.  He would not wittingly have gone
+to sleep in the saddle, being as yet too unaccustomed to riding to
+relax to that extent.  But sleep had something to say anent the matter.
+He dozed, clasping the saddle-horn instinctively.  Pill plodded along
+patiently.  The east grew gray, then rose-pink, then golden.  The horse
+lifted its head and quickened pace.  Sundown swayed and nodded.
+
+
+His uneasy slumber was broken by an explosive bark from Chance.
+Sundown straightened and rubbed his eyes.  Before him lay the
+ranch-house, glittering in the sun.  Out on the mesa grazed a herd of
+sheep and past them another and another.  Again he rubbed his eyes.
+
+Then he distinguished several saddle-horses tied to the fence
+surrounding the water-hole and there were figures of men walking to and
+from his house, many of them.  He set spur to Pill and loped up to the
+fence.  A Mexican with a hard, lined face stepped up to him.  "You
+vamose!" he said, pointing down the road.
+
+Sundown stared at the men about the yard.  Among them he recognized
+several of Loring's herders, armed and evidently equipped with horses,
+for they were booted and spurred.  He pushed back his hat.  "Vamose,
+eh?  I'll be damned if I do."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI
+
+THE INVADERS
+
+The Mexican whipped his gun out and covered Sundown, who wisely put up
+his hands.  Two of the men crawled through the fence, secured Sundown's
+horse, and ordered him to dismount.  Before both feet had touched the
+ground one of the Mexicans had snatched Sundown's gun from its holster.
+Chance leaped at the Mexican, but Sundown's "Here, Chance!" brought the
+dog growling to his master.
+
+At that moment Loring stepped from the house, and shouldering aside the
+men strode up to Sundown.  The sheep-man was about to speak when the
+tall one raised his arm and shook his fist in Loring's face.
+
+"Fer two pins I'd jump you and stomp the gizzard out of you, you
+low-down, dried-up, whisker-faced, mutton-eatin' butcher, you!  I goes
+to you and makes you a square offer and you come pussy-footin' in and
+steals me ranch when I ain't there!  If Jack Corliss don't run you
+plumb off the edge afore to-morrow night, I'll sure see if there's any
+law--" and Sundown paused for lack of breath.
+
+"Law?  Mebby you think you got somethin' to say about this here
+water-hole, and mebby not," said Loring.  "Don't get het up.  I come to
+this country before you knew it was here.  And for law--I reckon seein'
+you're wanted by the law that them papers of yourn is good for startin'
+a fire--and nothin' more.  The _law_ says that no man wanted by the law
+kin homestead.  The water-hole is open to the fust man that wants it
+and I'm the fust.  Now mebby you can think that over and cool off."
+
+Sundown was taken aback.  Though unversed in the intricacies of the
+law, he was sensible enough to realize that Loring was right.  Yet he
+held tenaciously to his attitude of proprietor of the water-hole.  It
+was his home--the only home that he had known in his variegated career.
+The fact that he was not guilty buoyed him up, however.  He decided
+that discretion had its uses.  As his first anger evaporated, he cast
+about for a plan whereby to notify Corliss of the invasion of the
+water-hole ranch.  His glance wandered to Chance.
+
+Then he raised his eyes.  "Well, now the fireworks is burned down, what
+you goin' to do?"
+
+Loring gestured toward the house.  "That's my business.  But you can
+turn in and cook grub for the men.  That'll keep you from thinkin' too
+hard, and we're like to be busy."
+
+"Then you're takin' me prisoner?" queried Sundown.
+
+"That's correc'."
+
+"How about the law of that?"
+
+"This outfit's makin' its own laws these days," said Loring.
+
+And so far as Loring was concerned that ended the argument.  Not so,
+however, with Sundown.  He said nothing.  Had Loring known him better,
+that fact would have caused him to suspect his prisoner.  With evident
+meekness the tall one entered the house and gazed with disconsolate
+eyes at the piled kyacks of provisions, the tarpaulins and sheepskins.
+His citadel of dreams had been rudely invaded, in truth.  He was not so
+much angered by the possible effects of the invasion as by the fact.
+Gentle Annie was lowing plaintively.  The chickens were scurrying about
+the yard, cackling hysterically as they dodged this and that herder.
+The two pigs, Sundown reflected consolingly, seemed happy enough.
+Loring, standing in the doorway, pointed to the stove.  "Get busy," he
+said tersely.  That was the last straw.  Silently Sundown stalked to
+the stove, rolled up his sleeves, and went to work.  If there were not
+a score of mighty sick herders that night, it would not be his fault.
+He had determined on a bloodless but effective victory, wherein soda
+and cream-of-tartar should be the victors.
+
+Soda and cream-of-tartar in proper proportions is harmless.  But double
+the proportion of cream-of-tartar and the result is internal riot.
+"And a leetle spice to kill the bitter of the taste ought to work all
+right," he soliloquized.  Then he remembered Chance.  Loring had left
+to oversee the establishment of an outlying camp.  The Mexican who
+assisted Sundown seemed stupid and sullen.  Sundown found excuse to
+enter his bedroom, where he hastily scrawled a note to Corliss.  Later
+he tied the note to the inside of the dog's collar.  The next thing was
+to get Chance started on the road to the Concho.  He rolled down his
+sleeves and strolled to the doorway.  A Mexican sat smoking and
+watching the road.  Sundown stepped past him and began to tinker with
+the gas-engine.  Chance stood watching him.  Presently the gas-engine
+started with a cough and splutter.  Sundown walked to the door and
+seemed about to enter when the Mexican called to him and pointed toward
+the distant tank.  Water was pouring over its rim.  "Gee Gosh!"
+exclaimed Sundown.  "I got to shut her off."  He ran to the engine and
+its sound ceased.  Yet the water still poured from the rim of the tank.
+"Got to fix that!" he asserted, and started toward the tank.  The
+Mexican followed him to the fence.
+
+"You come back?" he queried significantly.
+
+"Sure thing!  I ain't got a hoss, have I?"
+
+The Mexican nodded.  Sundown crawled through the fence and strode
+slowly to the tank.  He pretended to examine it first in view of the
+house and finally on the opposite side.  As Chance sniffed along the
+bottom of the tank, Sundown spoke to him.  The dog's ears pricked
+forward.  Sundown's tone suggested action.  "Here, Chance,--you fan it
+for the Concho--Jack--the boss.  Beat it for all you're worth.  The
+Concho!  Sabe?"  And he patted the dog's head and pointed toward the
+south.
+
+Chance hesitated, leaping up and whining.
+
+"That's all right, pardner.  They ain't nothin' goin' to happen to me.
+You go!"
+
+Chance trotted off a few yards and then turned his head inquiringly.
+
+"That's right.  Keep a-goin'.  It's your stunt this time."  And Sundown
+waved his arm.
+
+The return of Sundown without the dog occasioned no suspicion on the
+Mexican's part.  He most naturally thought, if he considered the fact
+at all, that the dog was hunting the mesas.  Then Sundown entered the
+house and experimented with soda and cream-of-tartar as though he were
+concocting a high explosive with proportions of the ingredients
+calculated to produce the most satisfactory results.  His plan,
+however, was nipped in the bud.  That night the herders refused to eat
+the biscuits after tasting them.
+
+Hi Wingle, coming from the bunk-house, wiped his hands on his apron,
+rolled a cigarette, and squatted in the shade.  From within came the
+clatter of knives and forks and the rattle of dishes.  The riders of
+the Concho were about through dinner.  Wingle, gazing down the road,
+suddenly cast his cigarette away and rose.  The road seemed empty save
+for a lean brown shape that raced toward the Concho with sweeping
+stride.  "It's the dog.  Wonder what's up now?"
+
+Chance, his muzzle specked with froth and his tongue lolling, swung
+into the yard and trotted to Wingle.  "Boss git piled ag'in?" queried
+the cook, patting Chance's head.  "What you scratchin' about?"
+
+The dog lay panting and occasionally pawing at his collar.
+
+"What's the matter?  Cockle-burr?"  And Wingle ran his fingers under
+the collar.  "So?  Playin' mail-man, eh?"
+
+He spread out the note and read it.  Slowly he straightened up and
+slowly he walked to the bunk-house.  "No.  Guess I'll tell Jack first."
+
+He strode to the office and laid the note on Corliss's desk.  The
+rancher, busy running up totals on the pay-roll, glanced at the
+sweat-stained piece of paper.  He read it and pushed it from him.  "All
+right, Hi."
+
+Wingle hesitated, then stepped out and over to the bunk-house.  "Takes
+it mighty cool!  Wonder what he's got up his sleeve.  Somethin'--sure!"
+
+Corliss studied the note.  Then he reached for paper and envelopes and
+wrote busily.  One of the letters was to the sheriff in Antelope.  It
+was brief.
+
+
+I'm going to push a bunch of stock over to the water-hole range.  My
+boys have instructions not to shoot.  That's the best I can do for them
+and the other side.        JOHN CORLISS.
+
+
+The other letter was to Nell Loring.  Then he rose and buckled on his
+gun.  At the bunk-house he gave the letters to Lone Johnny, who saddled
+and departed immediately.
+
+Without making the contents of the note known, he told the men that
+they would join Bud Shoop and his outfit at the Knoll and push the herd
+north.  Later he took Wingle aside and told him that he could stay and
+look after the rancho.
+
+The indignant Hi rolled down his sleeves, spat, and glared at Corliss.
+"I quit," he snapped.  "You can hire a new cook."
+
+Despite his preoccupation Corliss smiled.  "All right, Hi.  Now that
+you're out of a job, you might saddle up and ride with us.  We'll need
+some one to keep us good-natured, I reckon."
+
+"Now you're whistlin'!" said Wingle.  "Got a gun I can use?  I give
+mine to Sundown."
+
+"There's one over in the office on the desk.  But we're going to push
+the herd over to the water-hole.  We're not going there to fight."
+
+"Huh!  Goin' to be quiet, eh?  Mebby I better take my knittin' along to
+pass the time."
+
+And Wingle departed toward the office.  Rejoining Corliss they rode
+with the men to the Knoll.  Bud Shoop nodded gravely as his employer
+told him of Loring's occupation of the west bank of the river.  Then
+the genial Bud rode over to the herd that was bunched in anticipation
+of just such a contingency as had developed.  "It's a case of push 'em
+along easy--and all night," he told his men.  "And if any of you boys
+is out of cartridges there's plenty in the wagon."
+
+
+John Corliss rode with his men.  He told them to cut out any stray
+Two-Bar-O stock they saw and turn them back.  Toward evening they had
+the cattle in motion, drifting slowly toward the north.  The sixteen
+riders, including Corliss and Wingle, spread out and pushed the herd
+across the afternoon mesas.  The day was hot and there was no water
+between the Knoll and Sundown's ranch.  Corliss intended to hold the
+cattle when within a mile of the water-hole by milling them until
+daylight.  When they got the smell of water, he knew that he would not
+be able to hold them longer, nor did he wish to.  He regretted the fact
+that Chance was running with him, for he knew that Loring's men, under
+the circumstances, would shoot the dog if they had opportunity.
+
+Toward evening the outfit drew up in a draw and partook of a hearty
+supper.  The cattle began to lag as they were urged forward, and Chance
+was called into requisition to keep after the stragglers.  As the herd
+was not large,--in fact, numbered but five hundred,--it was possible to
+keep it moving steadily and well bunched, throughout the night.
+
+Within a short mile of the water-hole the riders began to mill the herd.
+
+Bud Shoop, riding up to Corliss, pointed toward the east.  "Reckon we
+can't hold 'em much longer, Jack.  They're crazy dry--and they smell
+water."
+
+"All right, Bud.  Hold 'em for fifteen minutes more.  Then take four of
+the boys with you and fan it for the road.  You can cache in that draw
+just north of the water-hole.  About sunup the herd'll break for water.
+Loring's outfit will be plenty busy on this side, about then.  If he's
+got any gunmen handy, they'll be camped at the ranch.  Chances are that
+when the cattle stampede a band or two of sheep, he'll turn his men on
+us.  That's your time to ride down and take possession of the ranch.
+Most likely you won't have to draw a gun."
+
+Shoop reined close to Corliss and held out his hand.  "Mebby not, Jack.
+But if we do--so-long."
+
+Then the genial Bud loped to the outriders, picking them up one by one.
+The cattle, freed from the vigilance of the circling horsemen, sniffed
+the dawn, crowded to a wedge, and began to trot, then to run.  Shoop
+and his four companions spurred ahead, swung to the road, and thundered
+past the ranch-house as a faint edge of light shot over the eastern
+horizon.  They entered the mouth of the draw, swung around, and reined
+up.
+
+"We're goin' to chip in when Jack opens the pot," said Shoop.  "Just
+how strong we'll come in depends on how strong Jack opens her."  Then
+with seeming irrelevance he remarked casually: "Sinker wasn't such a
+bad ole scout."
+
+"Which Loring's goin' to find out right soon," said "Mebby-So," a lean
+Texan.
+
+"Sinker's sure goin' to have company, I take it," remarked "Bull"
+Cassidy.
+
+"Boss's orders is to take her without makin' any noise," said Shoop.
+
+"Huh!  _I'm_ plumb disappointed," asserted Mebby-So.  "I was figurin'
+on singin' hymns and accompanyin' meself on me--me cayuse.  Listen!
+Somethin' 's broke loose!"
+
+Thundering like an avalanche the herd swept down on the water-hole,
+ploughing through a band of sheep that were bedded down between them
+and the ranch.  The herder's tent was torn to ribbons.  Wingle,
+trailing behind the herd, dismounted, and, stooping, disarmed the
+bruised and battered Mexican who had struggled to his feet as he rode
+up.
+
+From the water-hole came shouts, and Corliss saw several men come
+running from the house to seize their horses and ride out toward the
+cattle.  The band of riders opened up and the distant popping of
+Winchesters told him that the herders were endeavoring to check the
+rush of the thirst-maddened steers.  The carcasses of sheep, trampled
+to pulp, lay scattered over the mesa.
+
+"It sure is hell!" remarked Wingle, riding up to Corliss.
+
+"Hell is correct," said Corliss, spurring forward.  "Now I reckon we'll
+ride over to the rancho and see if Loring wants any more of it."
+
+Silently the rancher and his men rode toward the water-hole.  As they
+drew near the line fence, the Mexican riders, swinging in a wide
+circle, spurred to head them off.
+
+"Hold on!" shouted Corliss.  "We'll pull up and wait for 'em."
+
+"Suits me," said Wingle, loosening his gun from the holster.
+
+The Mexicans, led by Loring, loped up and reined with a slither of
+hoofs and the snorting of excited ponies.  Corliss held up his hand.
+Loring spurred forward and Corliss rode to meet him.
+
+"Want any more of it?" queried Corliss.
+
+"I'll take all you got," snarled Loring.
+
+"All right.  Just listen a minute."  And Corliss reached in his
+saddle-pocket.  "Here's a lease from the Government covering the ten
+sections adjoining the water-hole ranch, on the south and west.  And
+here's a contract with the owner of the water-hole, signed and
+witnessed, for the use of the water for my stock.  You're playing an
+old-fashioned game, Loring, that's out of date.  Want to look over
+these papers?"
+
+"To hell with your papers.  I'm here and I'm goin' to stay."
+
+"Well, we'll visit you regular," shouted a puncher.
+
+"Better come over to the house and talk things over," said Corliss.  "I
+don't want trouble with you--but my boys do."
+
+Loring hesitated.  One of his men, spurring up, whispered to him.
+
+Wingle, keenly alert, restrained a cowboy who was edging forward.
+"Don't start nothin'," he said.  "If she's goin' to start, she'll start
+herself."
+
+Loring turned to Corliss.  "I'd like to look at them papers," he said
+slowly.
+
+"All right.  We'll ride over to the house."
+
+The two bands of riders swung toward the north, passed the tank, and
+trotted up to the ranch-gate.  They dismounted and were met by Shoop
+and his companions.  Loring blinked and muttered.  He had been
+outgeneraled.  One of the Concho riders laughed.  Loring's hand slipped
+to his belt.  "Don't," said Corliss easily.  The tension relaxed, and
+the men began joking and laughing.
+
+"Where's Sundown?" queried Corliss.
+
+Loring gestured toward the house.
+
+"I'll go," said Wingle.  And he shouldered through the group of
+scowling herders and entered the house.
+
+Sundown, with hands tied, was sitting on the edge of his bed.  "They
+roped me," he said lugubriously, "in me own house.  Bud he was goin' to
+untie me, but I says for the love of Mike leave me tied or I'll take a
+chair and brain that Chola what kicked Gentle Annie in the stummick
+this mornin'.  He was goin' to milk her and I reckon she didn't like
+his looks.  Anyhow, she laid him out with a kind of hind-leg upper-cut.
+When he come to, he set in to kickin' her.  I got his picture and if I
+get me hands on him . . ."
+
+Wingle cut the rope and Sundown stood up.  "They swiped me gun," he
+asserted.
+
+"Here's one I took off a herder," said Wingle.  "if things get to
+boilin' over--why, jest nacherally wilt the legs from under anything
+that looks like a Chola.  Jack's got the cards, all right--but I don't
+jest like the look of things.  Loring's in the corner and he's got his
+back up."
+
+As they came from the house, Loring was reading the papers that Corliss
+had handed to him.  The old sheep-man glanced at the signatures on the
+documents and then slowly folded them, hesitated, and with a quick turn
+of his wrist tore them and flung the pieces in Corliss's face.  "That
+for your law!  We stay!"
+
+Corliss bit his lip, and the dull red of restrained anger burned in his
+face.  He had gone too far to retreat or retract.  He knew that his men
+would lose all respect for him if he backed down now.  Yet he was
+unable to frame a plan whereby he might avoid the arbitration of the
+six-gun.  His men eyed him curiously.  Was Jack going to show a yellow
+streak?  They thought that he would not--and yet . . .
+
+Sundown raised his long arm and pointed.  "There's the gent what kicked
+me cow," he said, his face white and his eyes burning.
+
+The punchers of the Concho laughed.  "Jump him!" shouted "Bull"
+Cassidy.  "We'll stand by and see that there's no monkeyin'."
+
+Corliss held up his hand.  The Mexicans drew together and the age-old
+hatred for the Gringo burned in their beady eyes.
+
+Sundown's thin lips drew tight.  "I've a good mind to--" he began.  The
+Mexican who had maltreated the cow mistook Sundown's gesture for intent
+to kill.  The herder's gun whipped up.  Sundown grabbed a chair that
+stood tilted against the house and swung it.  The Mexican went down.
+With the accidental explosion of the gun, Mebby-So grunted, put his
+hand to his side, and toppled from the saddle.  Corliss wheeled his
+horse.
+
+"Don't shoot, boys!" he shouted.
+
+His answer was a roar of six-guns.  He felt Chinook shiver.  He jumped
+clear as the horse rolled to its side.  Sundown, retreating to the
+house, flung open the bedroom window and kneeling, laid the barrel of
+his gun on the sill.  Deliberately he sighted, hesitated, and flung the
+gun from him.  "God Almighty--I ought to--but I can't!"  He had seen
+Corliss fall and thought that he had been killed.  He saw a Mexican
+raise his gun to fire; saw him suddenly straighten in the saddle.  Then
+the gun dropped from his hand, and he bent forward upon his horse,
+recovered, swayed a moment, and fell limply.
+
+Bud Shoop, on foot, ran around to the rear of the house.  His horse lay
+kicking, shot through the stomach.  The foreman drew himself up under
+cover of the hen-house and fired into the huddle of Mexicans that swept
+around the yard as the riders of the Concho drove them back.  He saw
+"Bull" Cassidy in the thick of it, swinging his guns and swearing
+heartily.  Finally a Mexican pony, wounded and wild with fright, tore
+through the barb-wire fence.  Behind him spurred the herders.  Out on
+the mesa they turned and threw lead at the Concho riders, who retreated
+to the cover of the house.  Corliss caught up a herder's horse and rode
+around to them.  Shorty, one of his men, grinned, fell to coughing, and
+sank forward on his horse.
+
+"Loring's down," said Wingle, solemnly reloading his gun.  "Think they
+got enough, Jack?"
+
+"Loring, eh?  Well, I know who got him.  Yes, they got enough."
+
+Shorty, vomiting blood, wiped his lips on his sleeve.  "Well, I
+ain't--not yet," he gasped.  "_I'm_ goin' to finish in a blaze of
+glory.  Come on, boys!"  And he whirled his horse.  Swaying drunkenly
+he spurred around the corner of the house and through the gateway.
+
+Corliss glanced at Wingle.  "We can't let him ride into 'em by his
+lonesome," said Wingle.  "Eh, boys?"
+
+"Not on your fat life!" said Bull Cassidy.  "I got one wing that's
+workin' and I'm goin' to fly her till she gits busted."
+
+"Let's clean 'em up!  Might's well do a good job now we're at it.
+Where's Bud?"
+
+"He's layin' over there back of the chicken-roost.  Reckon he's
+thinkin' things over.  He ain't sayin' much."
+
+"Bud down, too?  Then I guess we ride!"  And they swept out after
+Shorty.  They saw the diminutive cowboy tear through the band of
+herders, his gun going; saw his horse stumble and fall and a figure
+pitch from the saddle and roll to one side.  "And if I'm goin'--I want
+to go out that way," shouted Bull Cassidy.  "Shorty was some sport!"
+
+But the Mexicans had had enough of it.  They wheeled and spurred toward
+the south.  The Concho horses, worn out by the night-journey, were soon
+distanced.
+
+Corliss pulled up.  "Catch up a fresh horse, Hi.  And let Banks know
+how things stand.  If Loring isn't all in, you might fetch the doctor
+back with you.  We'll need him, anyway."
+
+"Sure!  Wonder who that is fannin' it this way?  Don't look like a
+puncher."
+
+Corliss turned and gazed down the road.  From the south came little
+puffs of dust as a black-and-white pinto running at top speed swept
+toward them.  He paled as he recognized the horse.
+
+"It's Loring's girl," said Wingle, glancing at Corliss.
+
+Nell Loring reined up as she came opposite the Concho riders and turned
+from the road.  The men glanced at each other.  Then ensued an awkward
+silence.  The girl's face was white and her dark eyes burned with
+reproach as she saw the trampled sheep and here and there the figure of
+a man prone on the mesa.  Corliss raised his hat as she rode up.  She
+sat her horse gazing at the men.  Without a word she turned and rode
+toward the ranch-house.  The Concho riders jingled along, in no hurry
+to face the scene which they knew awaited them at the water-hole.
+
+She was on her knees supporting her father's head when they dismounted
+and shuffled into the yard.  The old sheep-man blinked and tried to
+raise himself.  One of the Concho boys stepped forward and helped her
+get the wounded man to the house.
+
+Corliss strode to the bedroom and spoke to Sundown who turned and sat
+up.  "Get hit, Sun?"
+
+"No.  But I'm feelin' kind of sick.  Is the ole man dead?"
+
+"He's hurt, but not bad.  We want the bed."
+
+Sundown got to his feet and sidled past the girl as she helped her
+father to the bed.
+
+"I sent for the doctor," said Corliss.
+
+The girl whirled and faced him.  "You!" she exclaimed--"You!"
+
+The rancher's shoulders straightened.  "Yes--and it was my gun got him.
+You might as well know all there is to it."  Then he turned and,
+followed by Sundown, stepped to the yard.  "We'll keep busy while we're
+waiting.  Any of you boys that feel like riding can round up the herd.
+Hi and I will look after--the rest of it."
+
+"And Bud," suggested a rider.
+
+
+They found Shoop on the ground, the flesh of his shoulder torn away by
+a .45 and a welt of red above his ear where a Mexican's bullet had
+creased him.  They carried him to the house.  "Sun, you might stir
+around and rustle some grub.  The boys will want to eat directly."  And
+Corliss stepped to the water-trough, washed his hands, and then rolled
+a cigarette.  Hi Wingle sat beside him as they waited for dinner.
+Suddenly Corliss turned to his cook.  "I guess we've won out, Hi," he
+said.
+
+"Generally speakin'--we sure have," said Wingle.  "But I reckon _you_
+lost."
+
+Corliss nodded.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII
+
+"JUST ME AND HER"
+
+Sheriff Banks tossed Corliss's note on his desk, reached in his pocket
+and drew forth a jack-knife with which he began to trim his
+finger-nails.  He paid no apparent attention to the arrival of one of
+his deputies, but proceeded with his manipulation of the knife.  The
+deputy sidled to a chair and sat watching the sheriff.
+
+Presently Banks closed his knife, slid it into his pocket, and leaned
+back in his chair.  "Lone Johnny gone back?" he queried.
+
+The deputy nodded.
+
+Banks proffered his companion a cigar and lit one himself.  For a while
+he smoked and gazed at the ceiling.  "I got two cards to play," he
+said, straightening up and brushing cigar-ash from his vest.  "Last
+election was pretty close.  By rights I ought to be at the county-seat.
+Got any idea why they side-tracked me here in Antelope?"
+
+The deputy grinned.  "It's right handy to the line.  And I guess they
+saw what was comin' and figured to put you up against it.  They
+couldn't beat you at the polls, so they tried to put you where you
+wouldn't come back."
+
+"Correct.  And there's no use running against the rope.  Now I want you
+to call on every citizen in Antelope and tell every dog-goned one of
+'em what Lone Johnny kind of hinted at regarding the Concho and Loring.
+And show 'em this note from Jack.  Tell 'em I'm going to swear in each
+of 'em as a special.  I want to go on record as having done what I
+could."
+
+The deputy rose.  "All right, Jim.  Kind of late to make that move,
+ain't it?"
+
+"I got another card," said the sheriff.  "Tell 'em we'll be ready to
+start about twelve.  It's ten, now."
+
+With the departure of the deputy the sheriff reached in his desk and
+brought forth a book.  It was thumbed and soiled.  He turned the pages
+slowly, pausing to read a line here and there.  Finally he settled back
+and became immersed in the perennial delight of "Huckleberry Finn."  He
+read uninterruptedly for an hour, drifting on the broad current of the
+Mississippi to eventually disembark in Antelope as the deputy shadowed
+the doorway.  The sheriff closed the book and glanced up.  He read his
+answer in the deputy's eyes.
+
+"'T ain't that they don't like you," said the deputy.  "But they ain't
+one of 'em that'll do anything for Loring or do anything against Jack
+Corliss."
+
+The sheriff smiled.  "Public opinion is setting on the fence and
+hanging on with both hands.  All right, Joe.  I'll play her alone.  I
+got a wire from Hank that he's got the herder, Fernando.  Due here on
+the two-thirty.  You hang around and tell Hank to keep on--take the
+Mexican along up to Usher."
+
+"Goin' to go after the Concho boys and Loring's herders?"
+
+"Sure thing.  And I'm going alone.  Then they won't make a fuss.
+They'll come back with me all right."
+
+"But you couldn't get a jury to send one of 'em over--not in this
+county."
+
+"Correct, Joe.  But the county's paying me to go through the
+motions--don't matter what I think personally.  If they've pulled off a
+shooting-match at the water-hole, the thing's settled by this time.  It
+had to come and if it's over, I'm dam' glad.  It'll clear the air for
+quite a spell to come."
+
+"The papers'll sure make a holler--" began the deputy.
+
+"Not so much as you think.  They got one good reason to keep still and
+that's because the free range is like to be opened up to homesteaders
+any day.  Too much noise about cattle-and-sheep war would scare good
+money from coming to the State.  I heard the other day that that
+Sundown Jack picked up is settled at the water-hole.  I took him for a
+tenderfoot once.  I reckon he ain't.  It's hard to figure on those
+queer kind.  Well, you meet the two-thirty.  I guess I'll ride over to
+the Concho and see the boys."
+
+
+The Loring-Corliss case is now a matter of record in the dusty files of
+the "Usher Sentinel" and its decidedly disesteemed contemporary, the
+"Mesa News."  The case was dismissed for lack of anything like definite
+evidence, though Loring and Corliss were bound over to keep the peace.
+Incidentally one tall and angular witness refused to testify, and was
+sentenced to pay a not insignificant fine for contempt of court.  That
+his fine was promptly paid by Corliss furnished a more or less
+gratuitous excuse for a wordy vilification of the rancher and his
+"hireling assassin," "menace to public welfare," and the like.
+Sundown, however, stuck to his guns, even to the extent of searching
+out the editor of the "Mesa News" and offering graciously to engage in
+hand-to-hand combat, provided the editor, or what was left of him after
+the battle, would insert an apology in the next issue of the paper--the
+apology to be dictated by Sundown.
+
+The editor temporized by asking the indignant Sundown to frame the
+apology, which he did.  Then the wily autocrat of the "Mesa News,"
+after reading the apology, agreed to an armistice and mentioned the
+fact that it was a hot day.  Sundown intimated that he knew one or two
+places in Usher which he was not averse to visiting under the
+circumstances.  And so the treaty was ratified.
+
+Perhaps among Sundown's possessions there is none so cherished,
+speaking broadly, as a certain clipping from an Arizona newspaper in
+which the editor prints a strangely worded and colorful apology, above
+his personal signature, for having been misled temporarily in his
+estimation of a "certain person of warlike proclivities who visited our
+sanctum bent upon eradicating us in a physical sense."  The apology
+follows.  In a separate paragraph, however, is this information:
+
+"We find it imperative, however, to state that the above apology is a
+personal matter and in no wise affects our permanent attitude toward
+the lawlessness manifest so recently in our midst.  Moreover, we were
+forced at the muzzle of a six-shooter, in the hands of the
+above-mentioned Sundown, to insert that illiterate and blood-thirsty
+gentleman's screed in the MESA NEWS, as he, together with the gang of
+cutthroats with whom he seems in league, stood over us with drawn
+weapons until the entire issue had been run off.  Such is the condition
+of affairs under the present corrupt administration of our suffering
+State."
+
+Such advertising, Sundown reflected, breathing of battle and carnage,
+would obviate the necessity for future upholding of his reputation in a
+physical sense.  Great is the power of the press!  It became whispered
+about that he was a two-gun man of dexterous attainments in dispensing
+lead and that his mild and even apologetic manner was but a cloak.
+Accident and the tongues of men earned for Sundown that peace which he
+so thoroughly loved.  He became immune to strife.  When he felt his
+outward attitude sagging a little, he re-read the clipping and braced
+up.
+
+Sundown rode to the Concho gate, dismounted and opened it.  Chance ran
+ahead, leaping up as Corliss came from the ranch-house.
+
+"Got them holes plugged in the tank," said Sundown.  "Got the engine
+runnin' ag'in and things is fine.  You goin' to put them cattle back on
+the water-hole range?"
+
+"Yes, as soon as Bud can get around again.  He's up, but he can't ride
+yet."
+
+"How's Bull?"
+
+"Oh, he's all right.  Mebby-So's laid up yet.  He got it pretty bad."
+
+"Well, I reckon they ain't goin' to be no more fightin' 'bout cattle
+and sheep.  I stopped by to the Loring ranch.  Ole man Loring was sure
+ugly, so I reckon he's feelin' nacheral ag'in.  He was like to get mad
+at me for stopping but his gal, Nell, she smoothed down his wool and
+asked me to stay and eat.  I wasn't feelin' extra hungry, so I come
+along up here."
+
+"I have some good news," said Corliss.  "Got a letter from Billy last
+week.  Didn't have time to tell you.  He's working for a broker in
+'Frisco.  I shouldn't wonder if he should turn up one of these days.
+How would you like to drive over to Antelope and meet him when he
+comes?"
+
+"I'd sure be glad.  Always did like Billy.  'Course you don't know when
+he's comin'--and I got to do some drivin' meself right soon."
+
+"So?"
+
+"Yep.  'Course I got the wagon, but they ain't no style to that.  I was
+wantin' a rig with style to it--like the buckboard."  Sundown fidgeted
+nervously with the buttons of his shirt.  He coughed, took off his hat,
+and mopped his face with a red bandanna.  Despite his efforts he grew
+warmer and warmer.  He was about to approach a delicate subject.
+Finally he seized the bull by the horns, so to speak, and his tanned
+face grew red.  "I was wantin' to borrow that buckboard, mebby,
+Saturday."
+
+"Sure!  Going to Antelope?"
+
+"Nope--not first.  I got business over to Chico Miguel's place.  I'm
+goin' to call on a lady."
+
+"Oh, I see!  Anita?"
+
+"Well, I sure ain't goin' to call on her ma--she's married a'ready."
+
+Despite himself, Corliss smiled.  "So that's what you wanted that new
+bed and table and the chairs for.  Did they get marked up much coming
+in?"
+
+"The legs some.  I rubbed 'em with that hoss-liniment you give me.  You
+can hardly tell.  It kind of smelled like turpentine, and I didn't have
+nothin' else."
+
+"Well, anything you want--"
+
+"I know, boss.  But this is goin' to be a quiet weddin'.  No
+brass-bands or ice-cream or pop-corn or style.  Just me and her
+and--and I reckon a priest, seein' she was brung up that way.  I ain't
+asked her yet."
+
+"What?  About getting married, or the priest?"
+
+"Nothin'.  We got kind of a eye-understandin' and her ma and me is good
+friends.  It's like this.  Bein' no hand to do love-makin' stylish, I
+just passes her a couple of bouquets onct or twict and said a few
+words.  Now, you see, if I get that buckboard and a couple of hosses--I
+sure would like the white ones--and drive over lookin' like business
+and slip the ole man a box of cigars I bought, and Mrs. Miguel that
+there red-and-yella serape I paid ten dollars for in Antelope, and show
+Anita me new contract with the Concho for pumpin' water for
+seventy-five bones a month, I reckon the rest of it'll come easy.  I'm
+figurin' strong on them white hosses, likewise.  Bein' white'll kind of
+look like gettin' married, without me sayin' it.  You see, boss, I'm
+short on the Spanish talk and so I have to do some figurin'."
+
+"Well, Sun, you have come along a lot since you first hit the Concho!
+Go ahead, and good luck to you!  If you need any money--"
+
+"I was comin' to that.  Seein' as you kind of know me--and seein' I'm
+goin' to git hitched--I was thinkin' you might lend me mebby a hundred
+on the contrac'."
+
+"I guess I can.  Will that be enough?"
+
+"Plenty.  You see I was figurin' on buyin' a few head of stock to run
+with yourn on the water-hole range."
+
+"Why, I can let you have the stock.  You can pay me when you get ready."
+
+"That's just it.  You'd kind of give 'em to me and I ain't askin'
+favors, except the buckboard and the white hosses."
+
+"But what do you want to monkey with cattle for?  You're doing pretty
+well with the water."
+
+"That's just it.  You see, Anita thinks I'm a rarin', high-ridin',
+cussin', tearin', bronco-bustin' cow-puncher from over the hill.  I
+reckon you know I ain't, but I got to live up to it and kind of let her
+down easy-like.  I can put on me spurs and chaps onct or twict a week
+and go flyin' out and whoopin' around me stock, and scarin' 'em to
+death, pertendin' I'm mighty interested in ridin' range.  If you got a
+lady's goat, you want to keep it.  'Course, later on, I can kind o'
+slack up.  Then I'm goin' to learn her to read American, and she can
+read that piece in the paper about me.  I reckon that'll kind of cinch
+up the idea that her husband sure is the real thing.  But I got to have
+them cows till she can learn to read."
+
+"We've got to brand a few yearlings that got by last round-up.  Bud
+said there was about fifteen of them.  You can ride over after you get
+settled and help cut 'em out.  What iron do you want to put on them?"
+
+"Well, seein' it's me own brand, I reckon it will be like this: A kind
+of half-circle for the sun, and a lot of little lines runnin' out to
+show that it's shinin', and underneath a straight line meanin' the
+earth, which is 'Sundown'--me own brand.  Could Johnny make one like
+that?"
+
+"I don't know.  That's a pretty big order.  You go over and tell Johnny
+what you want.  And I'll send the buckboard over Saturday."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII
+
+IMPROVEMENTS
+
+Out in a field bordered by the roadway a man toiled behind a
+disk-plough.  He trudged with seven-league strides along the furrows,
+disdaining to ride on the seat of the plough.  To effect a comfortable
+following of his operations he had lengthened the reins with
+clothes-line.  He drove a team of old and gentle white horses as
+wheelers.  His lead animals were mules, neither old nor gentle.  It is
+possible that this fact accounted for his being afoot.  He was arrayed
+in cowboy boots and chaps, a faded flannel shirt, and a Stetson.
+Despite the fact that a year had passed since he had practically
+"Lochinvared" the most willing Anita,--though with the full and joyous
+consent of her parents,--he still clung to the habiliments of the
+cowboy, feeling that they offset the more or less menial requirements
+of tilling the soil.  Behind him trailed a lean, shaggy wolf-dog who
+nosed the furrows occasionally and dug for prairie-dogs with
+intermittent zest.
+
+The toiler, too preoccupied with his ploughing to see more than his
+horses' heads and the immediate unbroken territory before them, did not
+realize that a team had stopped out on the road and that a man had
+leaped from the buckboard and was standing at the fence.  Chance,
+however, saw the man, and, running to Sundown, whined.  Sundown pulled
+up his team and wiped his brow.  "Hurt your foot ag'in?" he queried.
+"Nope?  Then what's wrong?"
+
+The man in the road called.
+
+Sundown wheeled and stood with mouth open.  "It's--Gee Gosh!  It's
+Billy!"
+
+He observed that a young and fashionably attired woman sat in the
+buckboard holding the team.  He fumbled at his shirt and buttoned it at
+the neck.  Then he swung his team around and started toward the fence.
+
+Will Corliss, attired in a quiet-hued business suit, his cheeks
+healthfully pink and his eye clear, smiled as the lean one tied the
+team and stalked toward him.
+
+Corliss held out his hand.  Sundown shook his head.  "Excuse me, Billy,
+but I ain't shakin' hands with you across no fence."
+
+And Sundown wormed his length between the wires and straightened up,
+extending a tanned and hairy paw.  "Shake, pardner!  Say, you're
+lookin' gorjus!"
+
+"My wife," said Corliss.
+
+Sundown doffed his sombrero sweepingly.  "Welcome to Arizona, ma'am."
+
+"This is my friend, Washington Hicks, Margery."
+
+"Yes, ma'am," said Sundown.  "It ain't my fault, neither.  I had
+nothin' to say about it when they hitched that name onto me.  I reckon
+I hollered, but it didn't do no good.  Me pals"--and Sundown shrugged
+his shoulder--"mostly gents travelin' for their health--got to callin'
+me Sundown, which is more poetical.  'Course, when I got married--"
+
+"Married!" exclaimed Corliss, grinning.
+
+"You needn't to grin, Billy.  Gettin' married's mighty
+responsible-like."
+
+Corliss made a gesture of apology.  "So you're homesteading the
+water-hole?  Jack wrote to me about it.  He didn't say anything about
+your getting married."
+
+"Kind of like his not sayin' anything about your gettin' hitched up,
+eh?  He said he was hearin' from you, but nothin' about Misses Corliss.
+Please to expect my congratulations, ma'am--and you, too, Billy."
+
+"Thank you!" said Mrs. Corliss, smiling.  "Will has told me a great
+deal about you."
+
+"He has, eh?  Well, I'm right glad to be acquainted by heresy.  It kind
+of puts you on to what to expect.  But say, it's hot here.  If you'll
+drive back to me house, I'd sure like to show you the improvements."
+
+"All right, Sun!  We'll drive right in and wait for you."
+
+
+They did not have to wait, however.  Sundown, leaving his team at the
+fence, took a short cut to the house.  He entered the back door and
+called to Anita.
+
+"Neeter," he said, as she hastened to answer him, "they's some friends
+of mine just drivin' up.  If you could kind of make a quick change and
+put on that white dress with the leetle roses sprinkled on it--quick;
+and is--is he sleepin'?"
+
+"Si!  He is having the good sleep."
+
+"Fine!  I'll hold 'em off till you get fixed up.  It's me ole pal,
+Billy Corliss,--and he's brung along a wife.  We got to make a good
+front, seein' it's kind of unexpected.  Wrastle into that purty dress
+and don't wake him up."
+
+"Si!  I go queek."
+
+"Why, this is fine!" said Corliss, entering, hat in hand, and gazing
+about the room.  "It's as snug and picturesque as a lodge."
+
+"Beautiful!" exclaimed the enthusiastic Margery, gazing at the Navajo
+rugs, the clean, white-washed walls against which the red ollas, filled
+with wild flowers, made a pretty picture, and the great grizzly-bear
+rug thrown across a home-made couch.  "It's actually romantic!"
+
+"Me long suit, lady.  We ain't got much, but what we got goes with this
+kind of country."
+
+Margery smiled.  "Oh, Will, I'd like a home like this.  Just simple and
+clean--and comfortable.  It's a real home."
+
+"Me wife's comin' in a minute.  While she's--er--combin' her hair,
+mebby you'd like to see some of the improvements."  And Sundown marched
+proudly to the new dining-room--an extension that he had built
+himself--and waved an invitation for his guests to behold and marvel.
+
+The dining-room was, in its way, also picturesque.  The exceedingly
+plain table was covered with a clean white cloth.  The furniture, owing
+to some fortunate accident of choice, was not ornate but of plain
+straight lines, redeemed by painted ollas filled with flowers.  The
+white walls were decorated with two pictures, a lithograph of the
+Madonna,--which seemed entirely in keeping with the general tone of the
+room, but which would have looked glaringly out of place anywhere
+else,--and an enlarged full-length photograph, framed, of an
+exceedingly tall and gorgeous cowboy, hat in hand, quirt on wrist, and
+looking extremely impressive.  Beside the cowboy stood a great, shaggy
+dog--Chance.  And, by chance, the picture was a success.
+
+"Why, it's you, Sun!" exclaimed Corliss, striding to the picture.  "And
+it's a dandy!  I'd hang it in the front room."'
+
+"That's what Neeter was sayin'.  But I kind of like it in here.  You
+see, Neeter sets there and I set here where I can see me picture while
+I'm eatin'.  It kind of gives me a good appetite.  'Course, lookin' out
+the window is fine.  See them there mesas dancin' in the sun, and the
+grass wavin' and me cows grazing and 'way off like in a dream them blue
+hills!  It's sure a millionaire picture!  And it don't cost nothin'."
+
+"That's the best of it!" said Corliss heartily.  "We're going to
+build--over on the mesa near the fork.  You remember?"
+
+Sundown's flush was inexplicable to Margery, but Corliss understood.
+He had ridden the trail toward the fork one night. . . .  But that was
+past, atoned for. . . .  He would live that down.
+
+"It's a purty view, over there," said Sundown gently.
+
+And the two men felt that that which was not forgotten was at least
+forgiven--would never again be mentioned.
+
+"And me kitchen," said Sundown, leading the way, "is Neeter's.  She
+runs it.  There's more good eats comes out of it than they is fancy
+crockery in it, which just suits me.  And out here"--and the party
+progressed to the back yard--"is me new corral and stable and
+chicken-coop.  I made all them improvements meself, durin' the winter.
+Reckon you saw the gasoline-engine what does the pumpin' for the tanks.
+I wanted to have a windmill, but the engine works faster.  It's kind of
+hot, ma'am, and if you'll come in and set down I reckon me wife's got
+her hair--"
+
+"Wah!  Wah!  Wah!" came in a crescendo from the bedroom.
+
+Sundown straightened his shoulders.  "Gee Gosh, he's gone and give it
+away, already!"
+
+Corliss and his wife glanced at their host inquisitively.
+
+"Me latest improvement," said Sundown, bowing, as Anita, a plump brown
+baby on her arm, opened the bedroom door and stood bashfully looking at
+the strangers.
+
+"And me wife," he added.
+
+Corliss bowed, but Margery rushed to Anita and held out her arms.  "Oh,
+let me take him!" she cried.  "What big brown eyes!  Let me hold him!
+I'll be awfully careful!  Isn't he sweet!"
+
+They moved to the living-room where Anita and Margery sat side by side
+on the couch with the baby absorbing all their attention.
+
+Sundown stalked about the room, his hands in his pockets, vainly
+endeavoring to appear very mannish and unconcerned, but his eye roved
+unceasingly to the baby.  He was the longest and most upstanding
+six-feet-four of proud father that Margery or her husband had ever had
+the pleasure of meeting.
+
+"He's got Neeter's eyes--and--and her--complexion, but he's sure got me
+style.  He measures up two-feet-six by the yardstick what we got with
+buyin' a case of bakin'-soda, and he ain't a yearlin' yet.  I don't
+just recollec' the day but I reckon Neeter knows."
+
+"He's great!" exclaimed Corliss.  "Isn't he, Margery?"
+
+"He's just the cutest little brown baby!" said Margery, hugging the
+plump little body.
+
+"He--he ain't so _turruble_ brown," asserted Sundown.  "'Course, he's
+tanned up some, seein' we keep him outside lots.  I'm kind o' tanned up
+meself, and I reckon he takes after me."
+
+"He has a head shaped just like yours," said Margery, anxious to please
+the proud father.
+
+"Then," said Sundown solemnly, "he's goin' to be a pole."
+
+Anita, proud of her offspring, her husband, her neat and clean home,
+laughed softly, and held out her arms for the baby.  With a kick and a
+struggle the young Sundown wriggled to her arms and snuggled against
+her, gravely inspecting the pink roses on his mother's white dress.
+They were new to him.  He was more used to blue gingham.  The roses
+were interesting.
+
+"Yes, Billy's me latest improvement," said Sundown, anxious to assert
+himself in view of the presence of so much femininity and a
+correspondingly seeming lack of vital interest in anything save the
+baby.
+
+"Billy!" said Corliss, turning from where he had stood gazing out of
+the window.
+
+"Uhuh!  We named him Billy after you."
+
+Corliss turned again to the window.
+
+Sundown stepped to him, misinterpreting his silence.  He put his hand
+on Corliss's shoulder.  "You ain't mad 'cause we called him that, be
+you?"
+
+"Mad!  Say, Sun,"--and Corliss laughed, choked, and brushed his eyes.
+"Sun, I don't deserve it."
+
+"Well, seein' what I been through since I was his size, I reckon I
+don't either.  But he's here, and you're here and your wife--and things
+is fine!  The sun is shinin' and the jiggers out on the mesa is
+chirkin' and to-morrow's goin' to be a fine day.  There's nothin' like
+bankin' on to-morrow, 'specially if you are doin' the best you kin
+today."  And with this bit of philosophy, Sundown, motioning to
+Corliss, excused himself and his companion as they strode to the
+doorway and out to the open.  There they talked about many things
+having to do with themselves and others until Margery, hailing them
+from the door, told them that dinner was waiting.
+
+After dinner the men foregathered in the shade of an acacia and smoked,
+saying little, but each thinking of the future.  Sundown in his
+peculiarly optimistic and half-melancholy way, and Corliss with mingled
+feelings of hope and regret.  He had endeavored to live down his past
+away from home.  He had succeeded in a measure: had sought and found
+work, had become acquainted with his employer's daughter, told her
+frankly of his previous manner of life, and found, not a little to his
+astonishment, that she had faith in him.  Then he wrote to his brother,
+asking to come back.  John Corliss was more than glad to realize that
+Will had straightened up.  If the younger man was willing to reclaim
+himself among folk who knew him at his worst, there must be something
+to him.  So Corliss had asked his brother to give him his employer's
+address; had written to the employer, explaining certain facts
+regarding Will's share in the Concho, and also asking that he urge Will
+to come home.  Just here Miss Margery had something to say, the
+ultimate result of which was a more definite understanding all around.
+If Will was going back to Arizona, Margery was also going.  And as
+Margery was a young woman quietly determined to have her way when she
+knew that it was right to do so, they were married the day before Will
+Corliss was to leave for Arizona.  This was to be their honeymoon.
+
+All of which was in Will Corliss's mind as he lay smoking and gazing at
+the cloudless sky.  It may be added to his credit that he had not
+returned because of the money that was his when he chose to claim it.
+Rather, he had realized--and Margery had a great deal to do with his
+newer outlook--that so long as he stayed away from home he was
+confessing to cowardice.  Incidentally Margery, being utterly feminine,
+wanted to see Arizona and the free life of the range, of which Corliss
+had told her.  As for Nell Loring . . .  Corliss sighed.
+
+"It sure is hot," muttered Sundown.  "'Course, you'll stay over and
+light out in the mornin' cool.  You and me can sleep in the front room.
+'T ain't the fust time we rustled for a roost.  And the wimmen-folks
+can bunk in the bedroom.  Billy he's right comf'table in his big
+clothes-basket.  He's a sure good sleeper, if I do say it."
+
+"We could have gone on through," said Corliss, smiling.  "Of course
+we'd have been late, but Margery likes driving."
+
+"Well, if you had 'a' gone through--and I'd 'a' _ketched_ you at
+it--I--I--I'd 'a' changed Billy's name to--to somethin' else."  And
+Sundown frowned ferociously.
+
+Corliss laughed.  "But we didn't.  We're here--and it's mighty good to
+breathe Arizona air again.  You never really begin to love Arizona till
+you've been somewhere else for a while."
+
+"And bein' married helps some, too," suggested Sundown.
+
+"Yes, a whole lot.  Margery's enthusiasm makes me see beautiful things
+that I'd passed a hundred times before I knew her."
+
+"That's correc'," concurred Sundown.  "Now, take Gentle Annie, for
+instance--"
+
+"You mean Mrs.--er--Sundown?"
+
+"Nope!  Me tame cow.  'Annie' is American for 'Anita,' so I called her
+that.  Now, that there Gentle Annie's just a regular cow.  She ain't
+purty--but she sure gives plenty milk.  Neeter got me to seein' that
+Gentle Annie's eyes was purty and mournful-like and that she was a
+right handsome cow.  If your wife's pettin' and feedin' somethin', and
+callin' it them there smooth Spanish names, a fella's wise to do the
+same.  It helps things along."
+
+"Little Billy, for instance," suggested Corliss.
+
+"Leetle Billy is right!  But he couldn't help bein' good-lookin', I
+guess.  He's different.  Fust thing your wife said wuz he took after
+his pa."
+
+"You haven't changed much," said Corliss, smiling.
+
+"Me?  Mebby not--outside; but say, inside things is different.  I got
+feelin's now what I never knowed I had before.  Why, sometimes, when
+Neeter is rockin' leetle Bill, and singing and me settin' in the door,
+towards evenin', and everything fed up and happy, why, do you know, I
+feel jest like cryin'.  Plumb foolish, ain't it?"
+
+"I don't know about that, Sun."
+
+"Well, you will some day," asserted Sundown, taking him literally.  "'T
+ain't gettin' married what makes a man, but it's a dum' poor one what
+don't make the best of things if he is hitched up to a good girl.  Only
+one thing--it sure don't give a fella time to write much po'try."
+
+Corliss did not smile.  "You're living the poetry," he said with simple
+sincerity.
+
+"Which is correc', Billy.  And speakin' of po'try, I reckon I got to go
+feed them pigs.  They's gruntin' somethin' scand'lous for havin'
+comp'ny to our house--and anyhow, they's like to wake up leetle Bill."
+
+And Sundown departed to feed his pigs.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX
+
+A MAN'S COUNTRY
+
+"As for that," said John Corliss, gazing out across the mesa, "Loring
+and I shook hands--over the line fence.  That's settled."
+
+Sundown had just dismounted.  He stood holding the reins of his old
+saddle-horse "Pill."  He had ridden to the Concho to get his monthly
+pay.  "And pore leetle ole Fernando--he's gone," said Sundown.  "That's
+jest the difference between _one_ fella doin' what he thinks is right
+and a _bunch_ of fellas shootin' up themselves.  The one fella gets it
+every time.  The bunch, bein' so many of 'em, gets off.  Mebby that's
+law, but it ain't fair."
+
+"There's a difference, Sun.  A fight in the open and downing a man from
+ambush--two mighty different things."
+
+"Well, mebby.  But I'm feelin' sad for that leetle Fernando jest the
+same.--That Billy's new house?"
+
+"Yes.  They expect to get settled this month."
+
+"Gee Gosh!  I been so busy I missed a bunch of days.  Reckon I got to
+rustle up somethin' for a weddin' present.  I know, be Gosh!  I'll send
+'em me picture.  Billy was kind of stuck on it."
+
+"Good idea, Sun.  But I guess you'll miss it yourself."
+
+"I dunno.  Neeter ain't lookin' at it as much as she used to.  She's
+busy lookin' after leetle Bill--and me.  'Course I can get another one
+took most any time."
+
+"Make it two and give me one," said Corliss.
+
+"You ain't joshin'?"
+
+"No.  I'll hang it in the office."
+
+"Then she gets took--immediate."
+
+Chance, who stood watching the two men, rose and wagged his tail.
+
+Chance never failed to recognize that note in his master's voice.  It
+meant that his master was pleased, enthusiastic, happy, and Chance,
+loyal companion, found his happiness in that of his friends.
+
+"Well," said Sundown, "I reckon I got to be joggin'.  Thanks for the
+check."
+
+Corliss waved his hand.  "I'll step over to the gate with you.  Thought
+perhaps you'd stay and see Billy."
+
+"Nope.  I ain't feelin' like meetin' folks today.  Don' know why.
+Sky's clear and fine, but inside I feel like it was goin' to rain.
+When you comin' down to see leetle Bill and Neeter?"
+
+"Pretty soon.  Is Billy well?"
+
+"Well!  Gee Gosh!  If you could hear the langwidge he uses when Neeter
+puts him to bed and he don't want to go!  Why, yesterday he was on the
+floor playin' with Chance and Chance got tired of it and lays down to
+snooze.  Billy hitches along up to Chance, and _Bim_! he punches Chance
+on the nose.  Made him sneeze, too!  Why, that kid ain't afraid of
+nothin'--jest like his pa.  I reckon Billy told you that his wife said
+that leetle Billy took after me, eh?  Leave it to a woman to see them
+things!"
+
+"Well, I'm mighty glad you're settled, and making a go of it, Sun."
+
+"So be I.  I was recollectin' when I fust come into this country and
+landed at that water-hole.  It was kind of a joke then, but it ain't no
+joke now.  Funny thing--that bunch of punchers what started me lookin'
+for that there hotel that time--they come jinglin' up last week.
+Didn't know I was the boss till one of 'em grins after sizin' me up and
+says--er--well, two three words what kids hadn't ought to hear, and
+then, 'It's him, boys!'  Then I steps out and says, 'It is, gents.
+Come right in and have dinner and it won't cost you fellas a cent.  I
+told you I'd feed you up good when I got me hotel to runnin'.'  And
+sure enough, in they come and we fed 'em.  They was goin' to the Blue.
+They bunked in me hay that night.  Next mornin' they acted kind of
+queer, sayin' nothin' except, 'So-long,' when they lit out.  And what
+do you think!  They went and left four dollars and twenty-eight cents
+in the sugar-bowl--and a piece of paper with it sayin', 'For the kid.'
+We never found it out till I was drinkin' me coffee that night and
+liked to choked to death on a nickel.  Guess them punchers ain't so
+bad."
+
+"No.  They stopped here next day.  Said they'd never had a finer feed
+than you gave 'em."
+
+"Neeter is sure some cook.  Pretty nigh's good as me.  Well, so-long,
+Jack.  I--I--kind of wish you was buildin' a new house yourself."
+
+Corliss, standing with his hand on the neck of Sundown's horse, smiled.
+"Arizona's a man's country, Sun."
+
+"She sure is!" said Sundown, throwing out his chest.  "And lemme tell
+you, Jack, it's a man's business to get married and settle
+down--and--raise more of 'em.  'Specially like _me_ and _you_ and Bud
+and Hi--only Hi's gettin' kind of old.  She's a fine country, but she
+needs improvin'.  Sometimes them improvements keeps you awake nights,
+but they're worth it!"
+
+"Yes, I believe they're worth it," said Corliss, "So-long, Sun."
+
+"So-long, Jack.  I got to get back and milk Gentle Annie.  We're
+switchin' Billy onto the bottle, and he don't like to be kep' waitin'."
+
+Chance, following Sundown, trotted behind the horse a few steps, then
+turned and ran back to Corliss.  He nuzzled the rancher's hand, whined,
+and leapt away to follow his master.
+
+
+
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Sundown Slim, by Henry Hubert Knibbs
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SUNDOWN SLIM ***
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@@ -0,0 +1,13647 @@
+<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN">
+<HTML>
+<HEAD>
+
+<META HTTP-EQUIV="Content-Type" CONTENT="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1">
+
+<TITLE>
+Sundown Slim
+</TITLE>
+
+<STYLE TYPE="text/css">
+BODY { color: Black; background: White; margin-right: 10%; margin-left: 10%; font-size: medium; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; text-align: justify }
+
+P {text-indent: 4% }
+
+P.noindent {text-indent: 0% }
+
+P.poem {text-indent: 0%; margin-left: 10%; font-size: small }
+
+P.letter {font-size: small }
+
+
+</STYLE>
+
+</HEAD>
+
+<BODY>
+
+
+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Sundown Slim, by Henry Hubert Knibbs
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Sundown Slim
+
+Author: Henry Hubert Knibbs
+
+Illustrator: Anton Fischer
+
+Release Date: July 20, 2005 [EBook #16334]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SUNDOWN SLIM ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Al Haines
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+<A NAME="img-front"></A>
+<CENTER>
+<IMG SRC="images/img-front.jpg" ALT="Frontispiece" BORDER="2" WIDTH="364" HEIGHT="539">
+<H5>
+[Frontispiece: "You!" she exclaimed. "You!"]
+</H5>
+</CENTER>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<H1 ALIGN="center">
+SUNDOWN SLIM
+</H1>
+
+<BR><BR>
+
+<H4 ALIGN="center">
+BY
+</H4>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+HENRY HERBERT KNIBBS
+</H3>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<H4 ALIGN="center">
+WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY
+</H4>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+ANTON FISCHER
+</H3>
+
+<BR><BR><BR><BR>
+
+<H4 ALIGN="center">
+NEW YORK
+<BR><BR>
+GROSSET &amp; DUNLAP
+<BR><BR>
+PUBLISHERS
+</H4>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<H5 ALIGN="center">
+COPYRIGHT, 1915, BY HENRY HERBERT KNIBBS
+<BR><BR>
+ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
+<BR><BR><BR>
+<I>Published May 1915</I>
+</H5>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+DEDICATED TO
+<BR><BR>
+EVERETT E. HARASZTHY
+</H3>
+
+<BR><BR><BR><BR>
+
+<H2 ALIGN="center">
+Contents
+</H2>
+
+<CENTER>
+
+<TABLE WIDTH="80%">
+
+<TR>
+<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">&nbsp;</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap00">ARIZONA</A></TD>
+</TR>
+
+<TR>
+<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">I.&nbsp;&nbsp;</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap01">SUNDOWN IN ANTELOPE</A></TD>
+</TR>
+
+<TR>
+<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">II.&nbsp;&nbsp;</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap02">THE JOKE</A></TD>
+</TR>
+
+<TR>
+<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">III.&nbsp;&nbsp;</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap03">THIRTY MILES TO THE CONCHO</A></TD>
+</TR>
+
+<TR>
+<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">IV.&nbsp;&nbsp;</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap04">PIE; AND SEPTEMBER MORN</A></TD>
+</TR>
+
+<TR>
+<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">V.&nbsp;&nbsp;</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap05">ON THE CAŅON TRAIL</A></TD>
+</TR>
+
+<TR>
+<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VI.&nbsp;&nbsp;</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap06">THE BROTHERS</A></TD>
+</TR>
+
+<TR>
+<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VII.&nbsp;&nbsp;</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap07">FADEAWAY'S HAND</A></TD>
+</TR>
+
+<TR>
+<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VIII.&nbsp;&nbsp;</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap08">AT "THE LAST CHANCE"</A></TD>
+</TR>
+
+<TR>
+<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">IX.&nbsp;&nbsp;</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap09">SUNDOWN'S FRIEND</A></TD>
+</TR>
+
+<TR>
+<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">X.&nbsp;&nbsp;</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap10">THE STORM</A></TD>
+</TR>
+
+<TR>
+<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XI.&nbsp;&nbsp;</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap11">CHANCE&mdash;CONQUEROR</A></TD>
+</TR>
+
+<TR>
+<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XII.&nbsp;&nbsp;</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap12">A GIFT</A></TD>
+</TR>
+
+<TR>
+<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIII.&nbsp;&nbsp;</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap13">SUNDOWN, VAQUERO</A></TD>
+</TR>
+
+<TR>
+<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIV.&nbsp;&nbsp;</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap14">ON THE TRAIL TO THE BLUE</A></TD>
+</TR>
+
+<TR>
+<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XV.&nbsp;&nbsp;</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap15">THEY KILLED THE BOSS!</A></TD>
+</TR>
+
+<TR>
+<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XVI.&nbsp;&nbsp;</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap16">SUNDOWN ADVENTURES</A></TD>
+</TR>
+
+<TR>
+<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XVII.&nbsp;&nbsp;</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap17">THE STRANGER</A></TD>
+</TR>
+
+<TR>
+<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XVIII.&nbsp;&nbsp;</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap18">THE SHERIFF&mdash;AND OTHERS</A></TD>
+</TR>
+
+<TR>
+<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIX.&nbsp;&nbsp;</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap19">THE ESCAPE</A></TD>
+</TR>
+
+<TR>
+<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XX.&nbsp;&nbsp;</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap20">THE WALKING MAN</A></TD>
+</TR>
+
+<TR>
+<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXI.&nbsp;&nbsp;</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap21">ON THE MESA</A></TD>
+</TR>
+
+<TR>
+<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXII.&nbsp;&nbsp;</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap22">WAIT!</A></TD>
+</TR>
+
+<TR>
+<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXIII.&nbsp;&nbsp;</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap23">THE PEACEMAKER</A></TD>
+</TR>
+
+<TR>
+<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXIV.&nbsp;&nbsp;</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap24">AN UNEXPECTED VISIT</A></TD>
+</TR>
+
+<TR>
+<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXV.&nbsp;&nbsp;</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap25">VAMOSE, EH?</A></TD>
+</TR>
+
+<TR>
+<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXVI.&nbsp;&nbsp;</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap26">THE INVADERS</A></TD>
+</TR>
+
+<TR>
+<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXVII.&nbsp;&nbsp;</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap27">"JUST ME AND HER"</A></TD>
+</TR>
+
+<TR>
+<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXVIII.&nbsp;&nbsp;</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap28">IMPROVEMENTS</A></TD>
+</TR>
+
+<TR>
+<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXIX.&nbsp;&nbsp;</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap20">A MAN'S COUNTRY</A></TD>
+</TR>
+
+</TABLE>
+
+</CENTER>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<H2 ALIGN="center">
+List of Illustrations
+</H2>
+
+<H3>
+<A HREF="#img-front">
+"You!" she exclaimed.  "You!" &#8230; <I>Frontispiece</I>
+</A>
+</H3>
+
+<H3>
+<A HREF="#img-254">
+"God A'mighty, sech things is wrong."
+</A>
+</H3>
+
+<BR><BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap00"></A>
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+Arizona
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+Across the wide, sun-swept mesas the steel trail of the railroad runs
+east and west, diminishing at either end to a shimmering blur of
+silver.  South of the railroad these level immensities, rich in their
+season with ripe bunch-grass and grama-grass roll up to the barrier of
+the far blue hills of spruce and pine.  The red, ragged shoulders of
+buttes blot the sky-line here and there; wind-worn and grotesque
+silhouettes of gigantic fortifications, castles and villages wrought by
+some volcanic Cyclops who grew tired of his labors, abandoning his
+unfinished task to the weird ravages of wind and weather.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+In the southern hills the swart Apache hunts along historic trails o'er
+which red cavalcades once swept to the plundering of Sonora's herds.
+His sires and their flashing pintos have vanished to other
+hunting-grounds, and he rides the boundaries of his scant heritage,
+wrapped in sullen imaginings.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The caņons and the hills of this broad land are of heroic mould as are
+its men.  Sons of the open, deep-chested, tall and straight, they ride
+like conquerors and walk&mdash;like bears.  Slow to anger and quick to act,
+they carry their strength and health easily and with a dignity which no
+worn trappings, faded shirt, or flop-brimmed hat may obscure.  Speak to
+one of them and his level gaze will travel to your feet and back again
+to your eyes.  He may not know what you are, but he assuredly knows
+what you are not.  He will answer you quietly and to the point.  If you
+have been fortunate enough to have ridden range, hunted or camped with
+him or his kind, ask him, as he stands with thumb in belt and wide
+Stetson tilted back, the trail to heaven.  He will smile and point
+toward the mesas and the mountains of his home.  Ask him the trail to
+that other place with which he so frequently garnishes his
+conversation, and he will gravely point to the mesas and the hills
+again.  And there you have Arizona.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap01"></A>
+<H1 ALIGN="center">
+SUNDOWN SLIM
+</H1>
+
+<H2 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER I
+</H2>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+SUNDOWN IN ANTELOPE
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+Sundown Slim, who had enjoyed the un-upholstered privacy of a box-car
+on his journey west from Albuquerque, awakened to realize that his
+conveyance was no longer an integral part of the local freight which
+had stopped at the town of Antelope, and which was now rumbling and
+grumbling across the Arizona mesas.  He was mildly irritated by a
+management that gave its passengers such negligent service.  He
+complained to himself as he rolled and corded his blankets.  However,
+he would disembark and leave the car to those base uses for which
+corporate greed, and a shipper of baled hay, intended it.  He was
+further annoyed to find that the door of the car had been locked since
+he had taken possession.  Hearing voices, he hammered on the door.
+After an exchange of compliments with an unseen rescuer, the door was
+pushed back and he leaped to the ground.  He was a bit surprised to
+find, not the usual bucolic agent of a water-plug station, but a belted
+and booted rider of the mesas; a cowboy in all the glory of wide
+Stetson, wing chaps, and Mexican spurs.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Thought you was the agent.  I couldn't see out," apologized the tramp.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The cowboy laughed.  "He was scared to open her up, so I took a chanct,
+seein' as I'm agent for the purvention of crulty to Hoboes."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, you got a fine chance to make a record this evening" said
+Sundown, estimating with experienced eye the possibilities of Antelope
+and its environs.  "I et at Albuquerque."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Ain't a bad town to eat in," commented the puncher, gazing at the sky.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I never seen one that was," the tramp offered, experimentally.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The cowboy grinned.  "Well, take a look at this pueblo, then.  You can
+see her all from here.  If the station door was open you could see
+clean through to New Mexico.  They got about as much use for a Bo in
+these parts as they have for raisin' posies.  And this ain't no garden."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, I'm raised.  I got me full growth," said Sundown, straightening
+his elongated frame,&mdash;he stood six-feet-four in whatever he could get
+to stand in,&mdash;"and I raised meself."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Good thing you stopped when you did," commented the puncher.  "What's
+your line?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Me line?  Well, the Santa Fe, jest now.  Next comes cookin'.  I been
+cook in everything from a hotel to a gradin'-camp.  I cooked for
+high-collars and swalley-tails, and low-brows and jeans&mdash;till it come
+time to go.  Incondescent to that I been poet select to the T.W.U."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Temperance?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not exactly.  T.W.U. is Tie Walkers' Union.  I lost me job account of
+a long-hair buttin' in and ramblin' round the country spielin'
+high-toned stuff about 'Art for her own sake'&mdash;and such.  Me pals
+selected him animus for poet, seein' as how I just writ things
+nacheral; no high-fluted stuff like him.  Why, say, pardner, I believe
+in writin' from the ground up, so folks can understand.  Why, this
+country is sufferin' full of guys tryin' to pull all the G strings out
+of a harp to onct&mdash;when they ought to be practicin' scales on a
+mouth-organ.  And it's printed ag'in' 'em in the magazines, right
+along.  I read lots of it.  But speakin' of eats and <I>thinkin</I>' of
+eats, did you ever listen to 'Them Saddest Words,'&mdash;er&mdash;one of me own
+competitions?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not while I was awake.  But come on over to 'The Last Chance' and
+lubricate your works.  I don't mind a little po'try on a full stummick."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, I'm willin', pardner."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The process of lubrication was brief; and "Have another?" queried the
+tramp.  "I ain't all broke&mdash;only I ain't payin' dividen's, bein' hard
+times."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Keep your two-bits," said the puncher.  "This is on me.  You're goin'
+to furnish the chaser, Go to it and cinch up them there 'saddest.'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Bein' just two-bits this side of bein' a socialist, I guess I'll keep
+me change.  I ain't a drinkin' man&mdash;regular, but I never was scared of
+eatin'."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sundown gazed about the dingy room.  Like most poets, he was not averse
+to an audience, and like most poets he was quite willing that such
+audience should help defray his incidental expenses&mdash;indirectly, of
+course.  Prospects were pretty thin just then.  Two Mexican herders
+loafed at the other end of the bar.  They appeared anything but
+susceptible to the blandishments of Euterpe.  Sundown gazed at the
+ceiling, which was fly-specked and uninspiring,
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Turn her loose!" said the puncher, winking at the bartender.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sundown folded his long arms and tilted one lean shoulder as though
+defying the elements to blast him where he stood:&mdash;
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P CLASS="poem">
+"Lives there a gent who has not heard,<BR>
+Before he died, the saddest word?
+</P>
+
+<P CLASS="poem">
+"'What word is that?' the maiden cried;<BR>
+'I'd like to hear it before I died.'
+</P>
+
+<P CLASS="poem">
+"'Then come with me,' her father said,<BR>
+As to the stockyards her he led;
+</P>
+
+<P CLASS="poem">
+"Where layin' on the ground so low<BR>
+She seen a tired and weary Bo.
+</P>
+
+<P CLASS="poem">
+"But when he seen her standin' 'round,<BR>
+He riz up from the cold, cold ground.
+</P>
+
+<P CLASS="poem">
+"'Is this a hold-up game?' sez he.<BR>
+And then her pa laughed wickedly.
+</P>
+
+<P CLASS="poem">
+"'This ain't no hold-up!' loud he cried,<BR>
+As he stood beside the fair maiden's side.
+</P>
+
+<P CLASS="poem">
+"'But this here gal of mine ain't heard<BR>
+What you Boes call the saddest word.'
+</P>
+
+<P CLASS="poem">
+"'The Bo, who onct had been a gent,<BR>
+Took off his lid and low he bent.
+</P>
+
+<P CLASS="poem">
+"He saw the maiden was fed up good,<BR>
+So her father's wink he understood.
+</P>
+
+<P CLASS="poem">
+"'The saddest word,' the Bo he spoke,<BR>
+'Is the dinner-bell, when you are broke.'"
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P>
+And Sundown paused, gazing ceilingward, that the moral might seep
+through.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You're ridin' right to home!" laughed the cow-boy.  "You just light
+down and we'll trail over to Chola Charley's and prospect a tub of
+frijoles.  The dinner-bell when you are broke is plumb correct.  Got
+any more of that po'try broke to ride gentle?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Uhuh.  Say, how far is it to the next town?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Comin' or goin'?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Goin'."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"'Bout seventy-three miles, but there's nothin' doin' there.  Worse'n
+this."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Looks like me for a job, or the next rattler goin' west.  Any chanct
+for a cook here?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Nope.  All Mexican cooks.  But say, I reckon you <I>might</I> tie up over
+to the Concho.  Hearn tell that Jack Corliss wants a cook.  Seems his
+ole stand-by Hi Wingle's gone to Phoenix on law business.  Jack's a
+good boss to tie to.  Worked for him myself."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How far to his place?" queried Sundown.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Sixty miles, straight south."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Gee Gosh!  Looks like the towns was scared of each other in this here
+country.  Who'd you say raises them frijoles?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The cowboy laughed and slapped Sundown on the back.  "Come on, Bud!
+You eat with me this trip."
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P>
+Western humor, accentuated by alcohol, is apt to broaden rapidly in
+proportion to the quantity of liquor consumed.  After a given quantity
+has been consumed&mdash;varying with the individual&mdash;Western humor broadens
+without regard to proportion of any kind.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The jovial puncher, having enjoyed Sundown's society to the extent of
+six-bits' worth of Mexican provender, suggested a return to "The Last
+Chance," where the tramp was solemnly introduced to a newly arrived
+coterie of thirsty riders of the mesas.  Gaunt and exceedingly tall, he
+loomed above the heads of the group in the barroom "like a crane in a
+frog-waller," as one cowboy put it.  "Which ain't insinooatin' that our
+hind legs is good to eat, either," remarked another.  "He keeps right
+on smilin'," asserted the first speaker.  "And takin' his smile," said
+the other.  "Wonder what's his game?  He sure is the lonesomest-lookin'
+cuss this side of that dead pine on Bald Butte, that I ever seen."  But
+conviviality was the order of the evening, and the punchers grouped
+together and told and listened to jokes, old and new, talked sagebrush
+politics, and threw dice for the privilege of paying rather than
+winning.  "Says he's scoutin' for a job cookin'," remarked a young
+cowboy to the main group of riders.  "Heard him tell Johnny."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Meanwhile, Sundown, forgetful of everything save the congeniality of
+the moment, was recounting, to an amused audience of three, his
+experiences as assistant cook in an Eastern hotel.  The rest of the
+happy and irresponsible punchers gravitated to the far end of the bar
+and proposed that they "have a little fun with the tall guy."  One of
+them drew his gun and stepped quietly behind the tramp.  About to fire
+into the floor he hesitated, bolstered his gun and tiptoed clumsily
+back to his companions.  "Got a better scheme," he whispered.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Presently Sundown, in the midst of his recital, was startled by a roar
+of laughter.  He turned quickly.  The laughter ceased.  The cowboy who
+had released him from the box-car stated that he must be going, and
+amid protests and several challenges to have as many "one-mores," swung
+out into the night to ride thirty miles to his ranch.  Then it was, as
+has been said elsewhere and oft, "the plot thickened."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+A rider, leaning against the bar and puffing thoughtfully at a cigar of
+elephantine proportions, suddenly took his cigar from his lips, held it
+poised, examined it with the eye of a connoisseur&mdash;of cattle&mdash;and
+remarked slowly: "Now, why didn't I think of it?  Wonder you fellas
+didn't think of it.  They need a cook bad!  Been without a cook for a
+year&mdash;and everybody fussin' 'round cookin' for himself."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sundown caught the word "cook" and turned to, face the speaker.  "I was
+lookin' for a job, meself," he said, apologetically.  "Did you know of
+one?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You was!" exclaimed the cowboy.  "Well, now, that's right queer.  I
+know where a cook is needed bad.  But say, can you honest-to-Gosh
+<I>cook</I>?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I cooked in everything from a hotel to a gradin'-camp.  All I want is
+a chanct."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The cowboy shook his head.  "I don' know.  It'll take a pretty good man
+to hold down this job."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Where is the job?" queried Sundown.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Several of the men grinned, and Sundown, eager to be friendly, grinned
+in return.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mebby you <I>could</I> hold it down," continued the cowboy.  "But say, do
+you eat your own cookin'?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Guess you're joshin' me."  And the tramp's face expressed
+disappointment.  "I eat my own cookin' when I can't get any better," he
+added, cheerfully.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, it ain't no joke&mdash;cookin' for that hotel," stated the puncher,
+gazing at the end of his cigar and shaking his head.  "Is it, boys?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Sure ain't," they chorused.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"A man's got to shoot the good chuck to hold the trade," he continued.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Hotel?" queried Sundown.  "In this here town?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Naw!" exclaimed the puncher.  "It's one o' them swell joints out in
+the desert.  Kind o' what folks East calls a waterin'-place.  Eh, boys?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That's her!" volleyed the group.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Kind o' select-like," continued the puncher.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Sure is!" they chorused.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do you know what the job pays?" asked Sundown.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"U-m-m-m, let's see.  Don't know as I ever heard.  But there'll be no
+trouble about the pay.  And you'll have things your own way, if you can
+deliver the goods."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That's right!" concurred a listener.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sundown looked upon work of any kind too seriously to suspect that it
+could be a subject for jest.  He gazed hopefully at their hard, keen
+faces.  They all seemed interested, even eager that he should find
+work.  "Well, if it's a job I can hold down," he said, slowly, "I'll
+start for her right now.  I ain't afraid to work when I got to."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That's the talk, pardner!  Well, I'll tell you.  You take that road at
+the end of the station and follow her south right plumb over the hill.
+Over the hill you'll see a ranch, 'way on.  Keep right on fannin' it
+and you'll come to a sign that reads 'American Hotel.'  That's her.
+Good water, fine scenery, quiet-like, and just the kind of a place them
+tourists is always lookin' for.  I stopped there many a time.  So has
+the rest of the boys."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You was tellin' me it was select-like&mdash;" ventured Sundown.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The men roared.  Even Sundown's informant relaxed and grinned.  But he
+became grave again, flicked the ashes from his cigar and waved his
+hand.  "It's this way, pardner.  That there hotel is run on the
+American style; if you got the price, you can have anything in the
+house.  And tourists kind o' like to see a bunch of punchers settin'
+'round smokin' and talkin' and tellin' yarns.  Why, they was a lady
+onct&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But she went back East," interrupted a listener.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That's the way with them," said the cowboy.  "They're always stickin'
+their irons on some other fella's stock.  Don't you pay no 'tention to
+them."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sundown shook hands with his informant, crossed to the corner of the
+room, and slung his blanket-roll across his back.  "Much obliged to you
+fellas," he said, his lean, timorous face beaming with gratitude.  "It
+makes a guy feel happy when a bunch of strangers does him a good turn.
+You see I ain't got the chanct to get a job, like you fellas, me bein'
+a Bo.  I had a pal onct&mdash;but He crossed over.  He was the only one that
+ever done me a good turn without my askin'.  He was a college guy.  I
+wisht he was here so he could say thanks to you fellas classy-like.
+I'm feeling them kind of thanks, but I can't say 'em."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The grins faded from some of the faces.  "You ain't goin' to fan it
+to-night?" asked one.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Guess I will.  You see, I'm broke, now.  I'm used to travelin' any old
+time, and nights ain't bad&mdash;believe me.  It's mighty hot daytimes in
+this here country.  How far did you say?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Just over the hill&mdash;then a piece down the trail.  You can't miss it,"
+said the cowboy who had spoken first.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, so-long, gents.  If I get that job and any of you boys come out
+to the hotel, I'll sure feed you good."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+An eddy of smoke followed Sundown as he passed through the doorway.  A
+cowboy snickered.  The room became silent.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Call the poor ramblin' lightnin'-rod back," suggested a kindly puncher.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He'll come back fast enough," asserted the perpetrator of the "joke."
+"It's thirty dry and dusty miles to the water-hole ranch.  When he gets
+a look at how far it is to-morrow mornin' he'll sure back into the
+fence and come flyin' for Antelope with reins draggin'.  Set 'em up
+again, Joe."
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap02"></A>
+<H2 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER II
+</H2>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+THE JOKE
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+Owing to his unaccustomed potations Sundown was perhaps a trifle
+over-zealous in taking the road at night.  He began to realize this
+after he had journeyed along the dim, starlit trail for an hour or so
+and found no break in the level monotony of the mesa.  He peered ahead,
+hoping to see the blur of a hill against the southern stars.  The air
+was cool and clear and sweet.  He plodded along, happy in the prospect
+of work.  Although he was a physical coward, darkness and the solitudes
+held no enemies for him.  He felt that the world belonged to him at
+night.  The moon was his lantern and the stars were his friends.
+Circumstance and environment had wrought for him a coat of cheerful
+effrontery which passed for hardihood; a coat patched with slang and
+gaping with inconsistencies, which he put on or off at will.  Out on
+the starlit mesas he had metaphorically shed his coat.  He was at home.
+Here there were no men to joke about his awkwardness and his ungainly
+height.  A wanderer by nature, he looked upon space as his kingdom.
+Great distances were but the highways of his heritage, each promising
+new vistas, new adventuring.  His wayside fires were his altars, their
+smoke the incense to his gods.  A true adventurer, albeit timid, he
+journeyed not knowing why, but rather because he knew no reason for not
+journeying.  Wrapped in his vague imaginings he swung along, peering
+ahead from time to time until at last he saw upon the far background of
+the night a darker something shaped like a tiny mound.  "That's her!"
+he exclaimed, joyously, and quickened his pace.  "But Gee Gosh!  I
+guess them fellas forgot I was afoot.  That hill looks turruble far
+off.  Mebby because it's dark."  The distant hill seemed to keep pace
+ahead of him, sliding away into the southern night as he advanced.
+Having that stubbornness so frequently associated with timidity, he
+plodded on, determined to top the hill before morning.  "Them fellas as
+rides don't know how far things are," he commented.  "But, anyhow, the
+folks at that hotel will sure know I want the job, walkin' all night
+for it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Gradually the outline of the hill became bolder.  Sundown estimated
+that he had been traveling several hours, when the going stiffened to a
+slow grade.  Presently the grade became steep and rocky.  Thus far the
+road had led straight south.  Now it swung to the west and skirted the
+base of the hill in a gradual ascent.  Then it swung back again
+following a fairly easy slope to the top.  His optimism waned as he saw
+no light ahead.  The night grew colder.  The stars flickered as the
+wind of the dawn, whispering over the grasses, touched his face.  He
+paused for a moment on the crest of the hill, turned to look back, and
+then started down the slope.  It was steep and rutted.  He had not gone
+far when he stumbled and fell.  His blanket-roll had pitched ahead of
+him.  He fumbled about for it and finally found it.  "Them as believes
+in signs would say it was about time to go to roost," he remarked,
+nursing his knee that had been cut on a fragment of ragged tufa.  A
+coyote wailed.  Sundown started up.  "Some lonesome.  But she sure is
+one grand old night!  Guess I'll turn in."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He rolled in his blankets.  Hardly had he adjusted his length of limb
+to the unevenness of the ground when he fell asleep.  He had come
+twenty-five miles across the midnight mesas.  Five miles below him was
+his destination, shrouded by the night, but visioned in his dreams as a
+palatial summer resort, aglow with lights and eagerly awaiting the
+coming of the new cook.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The dawn, edging its slow way across the mesas, struck palely on the
+hillside where he slept.  A rabbit, huddled beneath a scrub-cedar,
+hopped to the middle of the road and sat up, staring with moveless eyes
+at the motionless hump of blanket near the road.  In a flash the wide
+mesas were tinged with gold as the smouldering red sun rose, to march
+unclouded to the western sea.
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P>
+Midway between the town of Antelope and the river Concho is the
+water-hole.  The land immediately surrounding the water-hole is
+enclosed with a barb-wire fence.  Within the enclosure is a ranch-house
+painted white, a scrub-cedar corral, a small stable, and a lean-to
+shading the water-hole from the desert sun.  The place is altogether
+neat and habitable.  It is rather a surprise to the chance wayfarer to
+find the ranch uninhabited.  As desolate as a stranded steamer on a mud
+bank, it stands in the center of several hundred acres of desert,
+incapable, without irrigation, of producing anything more edible than
+lizards and horned toads.  Why a homesteader should have chosen to
+locate there is a mystery.  His reason for abandoning the place is
+glaringly obvious.  Though failure be written in every angle and nook
+of the homestead, it is the failure of large-hearted enterprise, of
+daring to attempt, of striving to make the desert bloom, and not the
+failure of indolence or sloth.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Western humor like Western topography is apt to be more or less rugged.
+Between the high gateposts of the yard enclosure there is a great,
+twelve-foot sign lettered in black.  It reads: "American Hotel."  A
+band of happy cowboys appropriated the sign when on a visit to
+Antelope, pressed a Mexican freighter to pack it thirty miles across
+the desert, and nailed it above the gateway of the water-hole ranch.
+It is a standing joke among the cattle- and sheep-men of the Concho
+Valley.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sundown sat up and gazed about.  The rabbit, startled out of its
+ordinary resourcefulness, stiffened.  The delicate nostrils ceased
+twitching.  "Good mornin', little fella!  You been travelin' all night
+too?"  And Sundown yawned and stretched.  Down the road sped a brown
+exclamation mark with a white dot at its visible end.  "Guess he don't
+have to travel nights to get 'most anywhere," laughed Sundown.  He
+kicked back his blankets and rose stiffly.  The luxury of his yawn was
+stifled as he saw below him the ranchhouse with some strange kind of a
+sign above its gate.  "If that's the hotel," he said as he corded his
+blankets, "she don't look much bigger than me own.  But distances is
+mighty deceivin' in this here open-face country."  For a moment he
+stood on the hillside, a gaunt, lonely figure, gazing out across the
+limitless mesas.  Then he jogged down the grade, whistling.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+As he drew near the ranch his whistling ceased and his expression
+changed to one of quizzical uncertainty.  "That's the sign, all
+right,&mdash;'American Hotel,'&mdash;but the hotel part ain't livin' up to the
+sign.  But some hotels is like that; mostly front."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He opened the ranch-house gate and strode to the door.  He knocked
+timidly.  Then he dropped his blanket-roll and stepped to a window.
+Through the grimy glass he saw an empty, board-walled room, a slant of
+sunlight across the floor, and in the sunlight a rusted stove.  He
+walked back to the gateway and stood gazing at the sign.  He peered
+round helplessly.  Then a slow grin illumined his face.  "Why," he
+exclaimed, "it's&mdash;it's a joke.  Reckon the proprietor must be out
+huntin' up trade.  And accordin' to that he won't be back direct."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He wandered about the place like a stray cat in a strange attic,
+timorous and curious.  Ordinarily he would have considered himself
+fortunate.  The house offered shelter and seclusion.  There was clear
+cold water to drink and a stove on which to cook.  As he thought of the
+stove the latitude and longitude of the "joke" dawned upon him with
+full significance.  He drank at the water-hole and, gathering a few
+sticks, built a fire.  From his blankets he took a tin can, drew a wad
+of newspaper from it, and made coffee.  Then he cast about for
+something to eat.  "Now, if I was a cow&mdash;" he began, when he suddenly
+remembered the rabbit.  "Reckon he's got relations hoppin' around in
+them bushes."  He picked up a stick and started for the gate.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Not far from the ranch he saw a rabbit crouched beneath a clump of
+brush.  He flung his stick and missed.  The rabbit ran to another bush
+and stopped.  Encouraged by the little animal's nonchalance, he dashed
+after it with a wild and startling whoop.  The rabbit circled the brush
+and set off at right angles to his pursuer's course.  Sundown made the
+turn, but it was "on one wheel" so to speak.  His foot caught in a
+prairie-dog hole and he dove headlong with an exclamation that sounded
+as much like "Whump!" as anything else.  He uttered another and less
+forced exclamation when he discovered in the tangle of brush that had
+broken his fall, another rabbit that had not survived his sudden
+visitation.  He picked up the limp, furry shape.  "Asleep at the
+switch," he said.  "He ain't much bigger than a whisper, but he's
+breakfast."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Rabbit, fried on a stove-lid, makes a pretty satisfying meal when
+eating ceases to be a pleasure and becomes a necessity.  Sundown wisely
+reserved a portion of his kill for future consumption.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+As the morning grew warmer, he fell asleep in the shade of the
+ranch-house.  Late in the afternoon he wakened, went into the house and
+made coffee.  After the coffee he came out, rolled a cigarette, and sat
+smoking and gazing out across the afternoon mesas.  "I feel it comin',"
+he said to himself.  "And it's a good one, so I guess I'll put her in
+me book."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He rummaged in his blankets and unearthed a grimy, tattered notebook.
+Lubricating the blunt point of a stubby pencil he set to work.  When he
+had finished, the sun was close to the horizon.  He sat back and gazed
+sideways at his effort.  "I'll try her on meself," he said, drawing up
+his leg and resting the notebook against his lean knee.  "Wish I could
+stand off and listen to meself," he muttered.  "Kind o' get the defect
+better." Then he read laboriously:&mdash;
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P CLASS="poem">
+"Bo, it's goin' to be hot all right;<BR>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Sun's a floodin' the eastern range.<BR>
+Mebby it was kind o' cold last night,<BR>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;But there's nothin' like havin' a little change.<BR>
+Money?  No.  Only jest room for me;<BR>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Mountings and valleys and plains and such.<BR>
+Ain't I got eyes that was made to see?<BR>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Ain't I got ears?  But they don't hear much:<BR>
+Only a kind of a inside song,<BR>
+&nbsp;Like when the grasshopper quits his sad,<BR>
+And says: 'Rickety-chick!  Why, there is nothin' wrong!'<BR>
+&nbsp;And after the coffee, things ain't so bad."
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P>
+"Huh!  Sounds all right for a starter.  Ladies and them as came with
+you, I will now spiel the next section."
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P CLASS="poem">
+"The wind is makin' my bed for me,<BR>
+&nbsp;Smoothin' the grass where I'm goin' to flop,<BR>
+When the quails roost up in the live-oak tree,<BR>
+&nbsp;And my legs feel like as they want to stop.<BR>
+Pal or no pal, it's about the same,<BR>
+&nbsp;For nobody knows how you feel inside.<BR>
+Hittin' the grit is a lonesome game,&mdash;<BR>
+&nbsp;But quit it?  No matter how hard I tried.<BR>
+But mebby I will when that inside song<BR>
+&nbsp;Stops a-buzzin' like bees that's mad,<BR>
+Grumblin' together: 'There's nothin' wrong!'<BR>
+&nbsp;And&mdash;after the coffee things ain't so bad."
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P>
+"Bees ain't so darned happy, either.  They're too busy.  Guess it's a
+good thing I went back to me grasshopper in the last verse.  And now,
+ladies and gents, this is posituvely the last appearance of the noted
+electrocutionist, Sundown Slim; so, listen."
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P CLASS="poem">
+"Ladies, I've beat it from Los to Maine.<BR>
+&nbsp;And, gents, not knowin' jest what to do,<BR>
+I turned and slippered it back again,<BR>
+&nbsp;Wantin' to see, jest the same as you.<BR>
+Ridin' rods and a-dodgin' flies;<BR>
+&nbsp;Eatin' at times when me luck was good.<BR>
+Spielin' the con to the easy guys,<BR>
+&nbsp;But never jest makin' it understood,<BR>
+Even to me, why that inside song<BR>
+&nbsp;Kep' a-handin' me out the glad,<BR>
+Like the grasshopper singin': 'There's nothin' wrong!'<BR>
+&nbsp;And&mdash;after the coffee things ain't so bad."
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P>
+Sundown grinned with unalloyed pleasure.  His mythical audience seemed
+to await a few words, so he rose stiffly, and struck an attitude
+somewhat akin to that of Henry Irving standing beside a milk-can and
+contemplating the village pump.  "It gives me great pleasure to inform
+you"&mdash;he hesitated and cleared his throat&mdash;"that them there words of
+mine was expired by half a rabbit&mdash;small&mdash;and two cans of coffee.  Had
+I been fed up like youse"&mdash;and he bowed grandly&mdash;"there's no tellin'
+what I might 'a' writ.  Thankin' you for the box-office receipts, I am
+yours to demand, Sundown Slim, of Outdoors, Anywhere, till further
+notice."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Then he marched histrionically to the ranchhouse and made a fire in the
+rusted stove.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap03"></A>
+<H2 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER III
+</H2>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+THIRTY MILES TO THE CONCHO
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+John Corliss rode up to the water-hole, dismounted, and pushed through
+the gate.  His horse "Chinook" watched him with gently inquisitive
+eyes.  Chinook was not accustomed to inattention when he was thirsty.
+He had covered the thirty miles from the Concho Ranch in five long,
+dry, and dusty hours.  He nickered.  "In a minute," said Corliss.  Then
+he knocked at the ranch-house door.  Riders of the Concho usually
+strode jingling into the ranch-house without formality.  Corliss,
+however, had been gazing at the lean stovepipe for hours before he
+finally decided that there was smoke rising from it.  He knocked a
+second time.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"She ain't locked," came in a rusty, smothered voice.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss shoved the door open with his knee.  The interior was heavy
+with smoke.  Near the stove knelt Sundown trying to encourage the smoke
+to more perpendicular behavior.  He coughed.  "She ain't good in her
+intentions, this here stove.  One time she goes and the next time she
+stays and takes a smoke.  Her innards is out of gear.  Whew!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The damper has slipped down," said Corliss.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Her little ole chest-pertector is kind o' worked down toward her
+stummick.  There, now she feels better a'ready."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Cooking chuck?" queried Corliss, glancing round the bare room.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Rabbit," replied Sundown.  "When I hit this here hotel I was hungry.
+I seen a rabbit&mdash;not this here one, but the other one.  This one was
+settin' in a bunch of-brush on me right-of-way.  I was behind and
+runnin' to make up time.  I kind o' seen the leetle prairie-dog give me
+the red to slow down, but it was too late.  Hit his cyclone cellar with
+me right driver, and got wrecked.  This here leetle wad o' cotton was
+under me steam-chest.  No other passengers hurt, except the engineer."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss laughed.  "You're a railroad man, I take it.  Belong in this
+country?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sundown rose from his knees and backed away from the stove.  "Nope.
+Don't belong anywhere, I guess.  My address when I'm to home is Sundown
+Slim, Outdoors, Anywhere, speakin' general."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Come in afoot?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Uhuh.  Kind o' thought I'd get a job.  Fellas at Antelope told me they
+wanted a cook at this hotel.  I reckon they do&mdash;and some boarders and
+somethin' to cook."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That's one of their jokes.  Pretty stiff joke, sending you in here
+afoot."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, I ain't sore, mister.  They stole me nanny, all right, but I feel
+jest as good here as anywhere."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss led Chinook to the water-hole.  Sundown followed.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Ever think how many kinds of water they was?" queried Sundown.  "Some
+is jest water; then they's some got a taste; then some's jest wet, but
+this here is fine!  Felt like jumpin' in and drinkin' from the bottom
+up when I lit here.  Where do you live?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"On the Concho, thirty miles south."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Any towns in between?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss smiled.  "No, there isn't a fence or a house from here to the
+ranch."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Gee Gosh!  Any cows in this country?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes.  The Concho runs ten thousand head on the range."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Had your supper?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No.  I was late getting away from the ranch.  Expected to make
+Antelope, but I guess I'll bush here to-night."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, seein' you're the first boarder at me hotel, I'll pass the
+hash."  And Sundown stepped into the house and returned with the half
+rabbit.  "I got some coffee, too.  I can cook to beat the band when I
+got somethin' to cook.  Help yourself, pardner.  What's mine is
+anybody's that's hungry.  I et the other half."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Don't mind if I do.  Thanks.  Say, you can cook?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Next to writin' po'try it's me long suit."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, I'm no judge of poetry," said Corliss.  "This rabbit tastes
+pretty good."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You ain't a cop, be you?" queried Sundown.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No.  Why?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Nothin'.  I was jest wonderin'."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You have traveled some, I take it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Me?  Say!  I'm the ramblin' son with the nervous feet.  Been round the
+world and back again on them same feet, and some freights.  Had a pal
+onct.  He was a college guy.  Run on to him on a cattle-boat.  He writ
+po'try that was the real thing!  It's ketchin' and I guess I caught it
+from him.  He was a good little pal."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What became of him?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I dunno, pardner.  They was a wreck&mdash;but guess I'll get that coffee."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How did you cross the Beaver Dam?" inquired Corliss as Sundown
+reappeared with his can of coffee.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"So that's what you call that creek back there?  Well, it don't need no
+Beaver hitched on to it to say what I'd call it.  I come through last
+night, but I'm dry now."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The cattle-man proffered Sundown tobacco and papers.  They smoked and
+gazed at the stars.  "Said your friend was a college man.  What was his
+name?" queried Corliss, turning to glance at Sundown.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, his real name was Billy Corliss, but I called him jest Bill."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Corliss!  When did you lose track of him?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"In that wreck, 'bout a year ago.  We was ridin' a fast freight goin'
+west.  He said he was goin' home, but he never said where it was.  Hit
+a open switch&mdash;so they said after&mdash;and when they pulled the stitches,
+and took that plaster dingus off me leg, I starts out huntin' for
+Billy.  Nobody knowed anything about him.  Wasn't no signs in the
+wreck,&mdash;so they said.  You see I was in that fadeaway joint six weeks."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What did he look like?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Billy?  More like a girl than a man.  Slim-like, with blue eyes and
+kind o' bright, wavy-like hair.  He never said nothin' about his folks.
+He was a awful quiet kid."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+John Corliss studied Sundown's face.  "You say he was killed in a
+wreck?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I ain't sure.  But I reckon he was.  It was a bad one.  He was ridin'
+a empty, just ahead of me.  Then the whole train buckled up and
+somethin' hit me on the lid.  That's all I remember, till after."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What are you going to do now?  Go back to Antelope?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Me?  Guess I will.  I was lookin' for a job cooking but the pay ain't
+right here.  What you lookin' at me that way for?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Sit still.  I'm all right.  My brother Will left home three years ago.
+Didn't say a word to any one.  He'd been to school East, and he wrote
+some things for the magazines&mdash;poetry.  I was wondering&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Say, mister, what's your name?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"John Corliss."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Gee Gosh!  I knowed when I et that rabbit this mornin' that somethin'
+was goin' to happen.  Thought it was po'try, but I was mistook."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"So you ate your half of the rabbit this morning, eh?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Sure!!&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And you gave me the rest.  You sure are loco."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mebby I be.  Anyhow, I'm used to bein' hungry.  They ain't so much of
+me to keep as you&mdash;crossways, I mean.  Of course, up and down&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, I'm right sorry," said Corliss.  "You're the queerest Hobo I
+ever saw."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That's what they all say," said Sundown, grinning.  "I ain't no common
+hand-out grabber, not me!  I learnt things from Bill.  He had class!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You sure Will never said anything about the Concho, or his brother, or
+Chance?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Chance?  Who's he?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Wolf-dog that belonged to Will."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Gee Gosh!  Big, and long legs, and kind of long, rough hair, and deep
+in the chest and&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That's Chance; but how did you know?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why, Billy writ a pome 'bout him onct.  Sold it and we lived high&mdash;for
+a week.  Sure as you live!  It was called 'Chance of the Concher.'  Gee
+Gosh!  I thought it was jest one of them poetical dogs, like."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss, who was not given to sentiment, smoked and pondered the
+possibility of his brother's whereabouts.  He had written to all the
+large cities asking for information from the police as to the
+probability of their being able to locate his brother.  The answers had
+not been encouraging.  At the end of three years he practically gave up
+making inquiry and turned his whole attention to the management of the
+Concho.  There had been trouble between the cattle and sheep interests
+and time had passed more swiftly than he had realized.  His meeting
+with Sundown had awakened the old regret for his brother's uncalled-for
+disappearance.  Had he been positive that his brother had been killed
+in the wreck he would have felt a kind of relief.  As it was, the
+uncertainty as to his whereabouts, his welfare, worried and perplexed
+him, especially in view of the fact that he was on his way to Antelope
+to present to the Forest Service a petition from the cattle-men of the
+valley for grazing allotments.  The sheep had been destroying the
+grazing on the west side of the river.  There had been bickerings and
+finally an open declaration of war against David Loring, the old
+sheep-man of the valley.  Corliss wished to avoid friction with David
+Loring.  Their ranches were opposite each other.  And as Corliss was
+known as level-headed and shrewd, it devolved upon him to present in
+person the complaint and petition of his brother cattle-men.  Argument
+with David Loring, as he had passed the latter's homestead that
+morning, had delayed him on his journey to Antelope.  Presently he got
+up and entered the ranch-house.  Sundown followed and poked about in
+the corners of the room.  He found a bundle of gunny-sacks and
+spreading them on the floor, laid his blankets on them.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss stepped out and led Chinook to the distant mesa and picketed
+him for the night.  As he returned, he considered the advisability of
+hiring the tramp to cook until his own cook returned from Phoenix.  He
+entered the house, kicked off his leather chaps, tossed his spurs into
+a corner, and made a bed of his saddle-blankets and saddle.  "I'll be
+starting early," he said as he drew off his boots.  "What are you
+intending to do next?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Me?  Well, I ain't got no plans.  Beat it back to Antelope, I guess.
+Say, mister, do you think my pal was your brother?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't know.  From your description I should say so.  See here.  I
+don't know you, but I need a cook.  The Concho is thirty miles in.  I'm
+headed the other way, but if you are game to walk it, I'll see if I can
+use you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Me!  You ain't givin' me another josh, be you?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Never a josh.  You won't think so when you get to punchin' dough for
+fifteen hungry cowboys.  Want to try it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Say, mister, I'm just comin' to.  A guy told me in Antelope that they
+was a John Corliss&mdash;only he said Jack&mdash;what was needin' a cook.  Just
+thunk of it, seein' as I was thinkin' of Billy most ever since I met
+you.  Are you the one?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Guess I am," said Corliss, smiling.  "It's up to you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Say, mister, that listens like home more'n anything I heard since I
+was a kid.  I can sure cook, but I ain't no rider."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How long would it take you to foot it to the Concho?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, travelin' easy, say 'bout eight hours."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Don't see that you need a horse, then, even if there was one handy."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Nope.  I don't need no horse.  All I need is a job."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"All right.  You'd have to travel thirty miles either way&mdash;to get out
+of here.  I won't be there, but you can tell my foreman, Bud Shoop,
+that I sent you in."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And I'll jest be tellin' him that 'bout twelve, to-morrow.  I sure
+wisht Billy was here.  He'd sure be glad to know his ole pal was
+cookin' for his brother.  Me for the shavin's.  And say, thanks,
+pardner.  Reckon they ain't all jokers in Arizona."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No.  There are a few that can't make or take one," said Corliss.
+"Hope you'll make the ranch all right."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'm there!  Next to cookin' and writin' po'try, walkin' is me long
+suit."
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap04"></A>
+<H2 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER IV
+</H2>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+PIE; AND SEPTEMBER MORN
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+When a Westerner, a native-born son of the outlands, likes a man, he
+likes him.  That is all there is to it.  His horses, blankets, money,
+provender, and even his saddle are at his friend's disposal.  If the
+friend prove worthy,&mdash;and your Westerner is shrewd,&mdash;a lifelong
+friendship is the result.  If the friend prove unworthy, it is well for
+him to seek other latitudes, for the average man of the outlands has a
+peculiar and deep-seated pride which is apt to manifest itself in
+prompt and vigorous action when touched by ridicule or ingratitude.
+There are many Davids and Jonathans in the sagebrush country.  David
+may have flocks and herds, and Jonathan may have naught but the care of
+them.  David may possess lands and water-rights, and Jonathan nothing
+more than a pick, a shovel, a pan, and an incurable itch for placering.
+A Westerner likes a man for what he is and not because of his vocation.
+He usually proceeds cautiously in the matter of friendship, but sudden
+and instinctive friendships are not infrequent.  It so happened that
+John Corliss had taken a liking to the Hobo, Sundown Slim.  Knowing a
+great deal more about cattle than about psychology, the rancher wasted
+no time in trying to analyze his feelings.  If the tramp had courage
+enough to walk another thirty miles across the mesas to get a job
+cooking, there must be something to him besides legs.  Possibly the
+cattle-man felt that he was paying a tribute to the memory of his
+brother.  In any event, he greeted Sundown next morning as the latter
+came to the water-hole to drink.  "You can't lose your way," he said,
+pointing across the mesa.  "Just keep to the road.  The first ranch on
+the right is the Concho.  Good luck!"  And he led Chinook through the
+gateway.  In an hour he had topped the hill.  He reined Chinook round.
+He saw a tiny figure far to the south.  Half in joke he waved his
+sombrero.  Sundown, who had glanced back from time to time, saw the
+salute and answered it with a sweeping gesture of his lean arm.  "And
+now," he said, "I got the whole works to meself.  That Concho guy is a
+mighty fine-lookin' young fella, but he don't look like Billy.  Rides
+that hoss easy-like jest as if he was settin' in a rockin'-chair
+knittin' socks.  But I reckon he could flash up if you stepped on his
+tail.  I sure ain't goin' to."
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P>
+It was mid-afternoon, when Sundown, gaunt and weary, arrived at the
+Concho.  He was faint for lack of food and water.  The Mexican cook, or
+rather the cook's assistant, was the only one present when Sundown
+drifted in, for the Concho was, in the parlance of the riders, "A man's
+ranch from chuck to sunup, and never a skirt on the clothes-line."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Not until evening was Sundown able to make his errand known, and
+appreciated.  A group of riders swung in in a swirl of dust,
+dismounted, and, as if by magic, the yard was empty of horses.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The riders disappeared in the bunk-house to wash and make ready for
+supper.  One of the men, who had spoken to him in passing, reappeared.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Lookin' for the boss?" he asked.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Nope.  I seen him.  I'm lookin' for Mr. Shoop."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"All right, pardner.  Saw off the mister and size me up.  I'm him."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The boss said I was to be cook," said Sundown, rather awed by the
+personality of the bluff foreman.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Meet him at Antelope?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No.  It was the American Hotel.  He said for me to tell you if I
+walked in I could get a job cookin'."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"All right.  What he says goes.  Had anything to eat recent?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I et a half a rabbit yesterday mornin'."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, sufferin' shucks!  You fan it right in here!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Later that evening, Sundown straggled out to the corral and stood
+watching the saddle-stock of the Concho pull hay from the long
+feed-rack and munch lazily.  Suddenly he jerked up his hand and jumped
+round.  The men, loafing in front of the bunk-house, laughed.  Chance,
+the great wolf-dog, was critically inspecting the tramp's legs.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sundown was a self-confessed coward, physically.  Above all things he
+feared dogs.  His reception by the men, aside from Bud Shoop's
+greeting, had been cool.  Even the friendship of a dog seemed
+acceptable at that moment.  Plodding along the weary miles between the
+water-hole and the ranch, he had, in his way, decided to turn over a
+new leaf: to ignore the insistent call of the road and settle down to
+something worth while.  Childishly egotistical, he felt in a vague way
+that his virtuous intent was not appreciated, not reasoning that the
+men knew nothing of his wanderings, nor cared to know anything other
+than as to his ability to cook.  So he timidly stroked the long muzzle
+of the wolf-dog, and was agreeably surprised to find that Chance seemed
+to like it.  In fact, Chance, having an instinct superior to that of
+his men companions of the Concho, recognized in the gaunt and lonely
+figure a kindred spirit; a being that had the wander-fever in its
+veins; that was forever searching for the undiscoverable, the something
+just beyond the visible boundaries of day.  The dog, part Russian
+wolf-hound and part Great Dane, deep-chested, swift and powerful, shook
+his shaggy coat and sneezed.  Sundown jumped.  Again the men laughed.
+"You and me's built about alike&mdash;for speed," he said, endeavoring to
+convey his friendly intent through compliment.  "Did you ever ketch a
+rabbit?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Chance whined.  Possibly he understood.  In any event, he leaped
+playfully against Sundown's chest and stood with his paws on the
+tramp's shoulders.  Sundown shrunk back against the corral bars.  "Go
+to it," he said, trying to cover his fear with a jest, "if you like
+bones."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+From behind him came a rush of feet.  "Great Scott!" exclaimed Shoop.
+"Come 'ere, Chance.  I sure didn't know he was loose."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The dog dropped to his feet and wagged his tail inquiringly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Chance&mdash;there&mdash;he don't cotton to strangers," explained Shoop,
+slipping his hand in the wolf-dog's collar.  "Did he nip you?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Nope.  But me and him ain't strangers, mister.  You see, I knowed the
+boss's brother Billy, what passed over in a wreck.  He used to own
+Chance, so the boss says."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You knew Billy!  But Chance don't know that.  I'll chain him up till
+he gets used to seein' you 'round."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Shoop led the dog to the stable.  Sundown felt relieved.  The
+solicitude of the foreman, impersonal as it was, made him happier.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Next morning he was installed as cook.  He did fairly well, and the men
+rode away joking about the new "dough-puncher."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Then it was that Sundown had an inspiration&mdash;not to write verse, but to
+manufacture pies.  He knew that the great American appetite is keen for
+pies.  Finding plenty of material,&mdash;dried apples, dried prunes, and
+apricots,&mdash;he set to work, having in mind former experiences on the
+various "east-sides" of various cities.  Determined that his reputation
+should rest not alone upon flavor, he borrowed a huge Mexican spur from
+his assistant and immersed it in a pan of boiling water.  "And speakin'
+of locality color," he murmured, grinning at the possibilities before
+him, "how's that, Johnny?"  And he rolled out a thin layer of pie-dough
+and taking the spur for a "pattern-wheel," he indented a free-hand
+sketch of the Concho brand on the immaculate dough.  Next he wheeled
+out a rather wobbly cayuse, then an equally wobbly and ferocious cow.
+Each pie came from the oven with some symbol of the range printed upon
+it, the general effect being enhanced by the upheaval of the piecrust
+in the process of baking.  When the punchers rode in that evening and
+entered the messroom, they sniffed knowingly.  But not until the
+psychological moment did Sundown parade his pies.  Then he stepped to
+the kitchen and, with the lordly gesture of a Michael Angelo unveiling
+a statue for the approval of Latin princes, commanded the assistant to
+"Bring forth them pies."  And they were "brung."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Each astonished puncher was gravely presented with a whole
+pie&mdash;bubbling kine, dimpled cayuses, and sprawling spurs.  Silence&mdash;as
+silence is wont to do in dramatic moments&mdash;reigned supreme.  Then it
+was that the purveyor of spontaneous Western exclamations missed his
+opportunity, being elsewhere at the time.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Whoop!  Let 'er buck!" exclaimed Bud Shoop, swinging an imaginary hat
+and rocking from side to side.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"So-o, Boss!" exclaimed a puncher from the Middle West.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Hand-made and silver mounted," remarked another.  "Hate to eat 'em."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Trade you my pinto for a steer," offered still another.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Nothin" doin'!  That hoss of yours has got colic&mdash;bad."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Swap this here goat for that rooster of yours," said "Sinker," a youth
+whose early education in art had been neglected.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Goat?  You box-head!  That's a calf.  Kind 'a' mired down, but it's
+sure a calf.  And this ain't no rooster.  This here's a eagle settin'
+on his eggs.  You need specs."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Noah has sure been herdin' 'em in," said another puncher.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Meanwhile, "Noah" stood in the messroom doorway, arms folded and face
+beaming.  His attitude invited applause, and won it.  Eventually his
+reputation as a "pie-artist" spread far and wide.  When it leaked out
+that he had wrought his masterpieces with a spur, there was some
+murmuring.  Being assured by the assistant that the spur had been
+previously boiled, the murmuring changed to approval.  "That new cook
+was sure a original cuss!  Stickin' right to the range in his
+picture-work.  Had them there old Hopi picture-writin's on the rocks
+beat a mile."  And the like.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Inspired by a sense of repletion, conducive to generosity and humor,
+the boys presented Sundown with a pair of large-rowelled Mexican spurs,
+silver-mounted and altogether formidable.  Like many an historic
+adventurer, he had won his spurs by a <I>tour-de-force</I> that swept his
+compatriots off their feet; innuendo if you will&mdash;but the average
+cowboy is capable of assimilating much pie.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Although Sundown was offered the use of a bunk in the men's quarters,
+he chose to sleep in a box-stall in the stable, explaining that he was
+accustomed to sleep in all kinds of places, and that the unused
+box-stall with fresh clean straw and blankets would make a very
+comfortable bedroom.  His reason for declining a place with the men
+became apparent about midnight.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Bud Shoop had, in a bluff, offhand way, given him a flannel shirt,
+overalls, an old flop-brimmed Stetson, and, much to Sundown's delight,
+a pair of old riding-boots.  Hitherto, Sundown had been too preoccupied
+with culinary matters to pay much attention to his clothing.
+Incidentally he was spending not a little time in getting accustomed to
+his spurs, which he wore upon all occasions, clinking and clanking
+about the cook-room, a veritable Don Quixote of the (kitchen) range.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The arrival of Corliss, three days after Sundown's advent, had a
+stimulating effect on the new cook.  He determined to make the best
+appearance possible.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The myriad Arizona stars burned with darting radiance, in thin,
+unwavering shafts of splintered fire.  The moon, coldly brilliant,
+sharp-edged and flat like a disk of silver paper, touched the twinkling
+aspens with a pallid glow and stamped a distorted silhouette of the
+low-roofed ranch-buildings on the hard-packed earth.  In the corral the
+shadow of a restless pony drifted back and forth.  Chance, chained to a
+post near the bunk-house, shook himself and sniffed the keen air, for
+just at that moment the stable door had opened and a ghostly figure
+appeared; a figure that shivered in the moonlight.  The dog bristled
+and whined.  "S-s-s-h!" whispered Sundown.  "It's me, ain't it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+With his bundle of clothes beneath his arm, he picked a hesitating
+course across the yard and deposited the bundle beside the
+water-trough.  Chance, not altogether satisfied with Sundown's
+assurance, proclaimed his distrust by a long nerve-reaching howl.  Some
+one in the bunkhouse muttered.  Sundown squatted hastily in the shadow
+of the trough.  Bud Shoop rose from his bunk and crept to the door.  He
+saw nothing unusual, and was about to return to his bed when an
+apparition rose slowly from behind the water-trough.  The foreman drew
+back in the shadow of the doorway and watched.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sundown's bath was extensive as to territory but brief as to duration.
+He dried himself with a gunny-sack and slipped shivering into his new
+raiment.  "That there September Morn ain't got nothin' on me except
+looks," he spluttered.  "And she is welcome to the looks.  Shirts and
+pants for mine!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Then he crept back to his blankets and slept the sleep of one who has
+atoned for his sins of omission and suffered righteously in the ordeal.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Bud Shoop wanted to laugh, but forgot to do it.  Instead he padded back
+to his bunk and lay awake pondering.  "Takin' a bath sure does make a
+fella feel like the fella he wants to feel like&mdash;but in the
+drinkin'-trough, at night&#8230;!  I reckon that there Hobo ain't right
+in his head."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sundown dreamed that he was chasing an elusive rabbit over endless
+wastes of sand and greasewood.  With him ran a phantom dog, a lean,
+shaggy shape that raced tirelessly.  When Sundown wanted to give up the
+dream-hunt and rest, the dog would urge him on with whimperings and
+short, explosive barks of impatience.  Presently the dream-dog ran
+ahead and disappeared beyond a rise.  Sundown sank to the desert and
+slept.  He dreamed within his dream that the dog was curled beside him.
+He put out his hand and stroked the dog's head.  Presently a side of
+the box-stall took outline.  A ray of sunlight filtered in; sunlight
+flecked with fine golden dust.  The straw rustled at his side and he
+sat up quickly.  Chance, stretching himself and yawning, showed his
+long, white fangs in an elaborated dog-smile.  "Gee Gosh!" exclaimed
+Sundown, eyeing the dog sideways, "so it's you, eh?  You wasn't foolin'
+me, then, when you said we'd be pals?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Chance settled down in the straw again and sighed contentedly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+From the corral came the sound of horses running.  The boys were
+catching up their ponies for the day's work.  Chance pricked his ears.
+"I guess it's up to me and you to move lively," said Sundown,
+stretching and groaning.  "We're sleepin' late, account of them
+midnight abolitions."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He rose and limped to the doorway.  Chance followed him, evidently
+quite uninterested in the activities outside.  Would this queer,
+ungainly man-thing saddle a horse and ride with the others, or would he
+now depart on foot, taking the trail to Antelope?  Chance knew quite as
+well as did the men that something unusual was in the air.  Hi Wingle,
+the cook, had returned unexpectedly that night.  Chance had listened
+gravely while his master had told Bud Shoop that "the outfit" would
+move over to Bald Knoll in the morning.  Then the dog had barked and
+capered about, anticipating a break in the monotony of ranch-life.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sundown hurried to the cook-room.  Chance at his heels.  Hi Wingle was
+already installed in his old quarters, but he greeted Sundown heartily,
+and set him to work helping.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+After breakfast, Bud Shoop, in heavy wing chaps and trailing his spurs,
+swaggered up to Sundown.  "How you makin' it this mornin'?" he
+inquired.  There was a note of humorous good-fellowship in his voice
+that did not escape Sundown.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Doin' fine without crutches," replied Sundown, grinning.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, you go eat now, and I'll catch up a cayuse for you.  We're goin'
+to fan it for Bald Knoll in about ten minutes."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do I go, too?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Sure!  Do you think we don't eat pie only onct a year?  You bet you
+go&mdash;helpin' Hi.  Boss's orders."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Thanks&mdash;but I ain't no rider."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Shoop glanced questioningly at Sundown's legs.  "Mebby not.  But if I
+owned them legs I'd contract to ride white-lightnin' bareback.  I'd
+just curl 'em 'round and grab holt of my feet when they showed up on
+the other side.  Them ain't legs; them's <I>cinchas</I>."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mebby they ain't," sighed Sundown.  "It's the only pair I got, and I'm
+kind of used to 'em."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Did you let Chance loose?" queried the foreman.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Me?  Nix.  But he was sleepin' in the stall with me this mornin'."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Heard him goin' on last night.  Thought mebby a coyote or a wolf had
+strayed in to get a drink."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Get a drink!  Can't they get a drink up in them hills?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Sure!  But they kind of fancy the flavor of the water-trough.  They
+come in frequent.  But you better fan it for chuck.  See you later."
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P>
+Sundown hurried through breakfast.  He was anxious to hear more about
+the habits of coyotes and wolves.  When he again came to the corral,
+many of the riders had departed.  Shoop stood waiting for John Corliss.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You said them wolves and coyotes&mdash;" began Sundown.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, ding 'em!" interrupted Shoop.  "Looks like they come down last
+night.  Somethin' 's been monkeyin' with the water."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Did you ever see one&mdash;at night?" queried Sundown, nervously.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"See 'em?  Why, I shot droves of 'em right from the bunk-house door.  I
+never miss a chance.  Cut loose every time I see one standin' with his
+front paws on the trough.  Get 'em every time."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Wisht I'd knowed that."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"So?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Uhuh.  I'd 'a' borrowed a gun off you and set up and watched for 'em
+myself."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Bud Shoop made a pretense of tightening a cinch on Sundown's pony, that
+he might "blush unseen," as it were.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Presently Corliss appeared and motioned to Shoop.  "How's the new cook
+doing?" he asked.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Fine!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sundown retired modestly to the off-side of the pony.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Got a line on him already," said Shoop.  "First thing, Chance, here,
+took to him.  Then, next thing, he manufactures a batch of pies that
+ain't been matched on the Concho since she was a ranch.  Then, next
+thing after that, Chance slips his collar and goes and bushes with the
+Bo&mdash;sleeps with him till this mornin'.  And you can rope me for a
+parson if that walkin' wish-bone didn't get to ramblin' in his sleep
+last night and come out and take a <I>bath</I> in the <I>drinkin</I>'-trough!
+He's got on them clothes I give him, this mornin'.  Can you copper
+that?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Bad dream, Bud."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You wait!" said the grinning foreman.  "You watch him.  Don't pay no
+'tention to me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss smiled.  Shoop's many and devious methods of estimating
+character had their humorous angles.  The rancher appreciated a joke
+quite as much as did any of his employees, but usually as a spectator
+and not a participant.  Bud Shoop had served him well and faithfully,
+tiding over many a threatened quarrel among the men by a humorous
+suggestion or a seemingly impersonal anecdote anent disputes in
+general.  So Corliss waited, meanwhile inspecting the ponies in the
+corral.  He noticed a pinto with a saddle-gall and told Shoop to turn
+the horse out on the range.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It's one of Fadeaway's string," said Shoop.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I know it.  Catch him up."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Shoop, who felt that his opportunity to confirm his dream-like
+statement about Sundown's bathing, was slipping away, suddenly evolved
+a plan.  He knew that the horses had all been watered.  "Hey!" he
+called to Sundown, who stood gravely inspecting his own mount.  "Come
+over here and make this cayuse drink.  He won't for me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Shoop roped the horse and handed the rope to Sundown, who marched to
+the water-trough.  The pony sniffed at the water and threw up his head.
+"I reckoned that was it!" said Shoop.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What?" queried Corliss, meanwhile watching Sundown's face.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, some dam' coyote's been paddlin' in that trough again.  No wonder
+the hosses won't drink this mornin'.  I don't blame 'em."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sundown rolled a frightened eye and tried to look at everything but his
+companions.  Corliss and Shoop exploded simultaneously.  Slowly the
+light of understanding dawned, rose, and radiated in the dull red of
+the new cook's face.  He was hurt and a bit angry.  The anticipating
+and performing of his midnight ablutions had cost Slim a mighty
+struggle, mentally and otherwise.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If you think it's any early mornin' joke to take a wash-up in that
+there Chinese coffin&mdash;why, try her yourself, about midnight."  Then he
+addressed Shoop singly.  "If I was <I>you</I>, and you got kind of
+absent-minded and done likewise, and I seen <I>you</I>, do you think I'd go
+snitch to the boss?  Nix, for it might set him to worryin'."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Shoop accepted the compliment good-naturedly, for he knew he had earned
+it.  He swaggered up to Sundown and slapped him on the back.  "Cheer
+up, pardner, and listen to the good news.  I'm goin' to have that
+trough made three foot longer so it'll be more comfortable."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Thanks, but never again at night.  Guess if I hadn't been feelin'
+all-to-Gosh happy at havin' a home and a job, I'd 'a' froze stiff."
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap05"></A>
+<H2 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER V
+</H2>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+ON THE CAŅON TRAIL
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+The Loring homestead, a group of low-roofed adobe buildings blending
+with the abrupt red background of the hill which sheltered it from the
+winter winds, was a settlement in itself, providing shelter and comfort
+for the wives and children of the herders.  Each home maintained a
+small garden of flowers and vegetables.  Across the somber brown of the
+'dobe walls hung strings of chiles drying in the sun.  Gay blossoms,
+neatly kept garden rows, red ollas hanging in the shade of cypress and
+acacia, the rose-bordered plaza on which fronted the house of the
+patron, the gigantic windmill purring lazily and turning now to the
+right, now to the left, to meet the varying breeze, the entire prospect
+was in its pastoral quietude a reflection of Seņora Loring's sweet and
+placid nature.  Innuendo might include the windmill, and justly so, for
+the Seņora in truth met the varying breeze of circumstance and
+invariably turned it to good uses, cooling the hot temper of the patron
+with a flow of soft Spanish utterances, and enriching the simple lives
+of the little colony with a charity as free and unvarying as the flow
+of the clear, cool water.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Far to the east, where the mesas sloped gently to the hills, grazed the
+sheep, some twenty bands of a thousand each, and each band guarded and
+cared for by a herder and an assistant who cooked and at times
+journeyed with the lazy burros to and from the hacienda for supplies
+and provisions.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+David Loring, erstwhile plainsman and scout, had drifted in the early
+days from New Mexico to Arizona with his small band of sheep, and
+settled in the valley of the Concho.  He had been tolerated by the
+cattle-men, as his flock was but a speck on the limitless mesas.  As
+his holdings increased, the ranchers awakened to the fact that he had
+come to stay and that some boundary must be established to protect
+their grazing.  The Concho River was chosen as the dividing line, which
+would have been well enough had Loring been a party to the agreement.
+But he declined to recognize any boundary.  The cattle-men felt that
+they had given him fair warning in naming the Concho as the line of
+demarcation.  He, in turn, considered that his right to graze his sheep
+on any part or all of the free range had not been circumscribed.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+His neighbor&mdash;if cattle-men and sheep-men may under any circumstances
+be termed neighbors&mdash;was John Corliss.  The Corliss rancho was just
+across the river opposite the Loring homestead.  After the death of
+their parents the Corliss boys, John and his younger brother Will, had
+been constant visitors at the sheep-man's home, both of them enjoying
+the vivacious companionship of Eleanor Loring, and each, in his way, in
+love with the girl.  Eventually the younger brother disappeared without
+any apparent reason.  Then it was that John Corliss's visits to the
+Loring rancho became less frequent and the friendliness which had
+existed between the rival ranches became a kind of tolerant
+acquaintanceship, as that of neighbors who have nothing in common save
+the back fence.
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P>
+Fernando, the oldest herder in Loring's employ, stood shading his eyes
+from the glare of noon as he gazed toward the distant rancho.  His son
+was with the flock and the old man had just risen from preparing the
+noon meal.  "The Seņorita," he murmured, and his swart features were
+lighted by a wrinkled smile.  He stepped to his tent, whipped a gay
+bandanna from his blankets and knotted it about his lean throat.  Then
+he took off his hat, gazing at it speculatively.  It was beyond
+reconstruction as to definite shape, so he tossed it to the ground, ran
+his fingers through his silver-streaked hair, and stepped out to await
+his Seņorita's arrival.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The sunlight flashed on silver spur and bit as the black-and-white
+pinto "Challenge" swept across the mesa toward the sheep-camp.  Into
+the camp he flung, fretting at the curb and pivoting.  His rider,
+Eleanor Loring, about to dismount, spoke to him sharply.  Still he
+continued to pivot uneasily.  "Morning, Fernando!  Challenge is fussy
+this morning.  I'll be right back!"  And she disciplined Challenge with
+bit and spur, wheeling him and loping him away from the camp.  Down the
+trail she checked him and brought him around on his hind feet.  Back
+they came, with a rush.  Fernando's deep-set eyes glowed with
+admiration as the girl "set-up" the pinto and swung to the ground with
+a laugh.  "Made him do it all over again, si.  He is the big baby, but
+he pretends he is bronco.  Don't you, Challenge?"  She dropped the
+reins and rubbed his nose.  The pony laid back his ears in simulated
+anger and nipped at her sleeve.  "Straighten your ears up, pronto!" she
+commanded, nevertheless laughing.  Then a strain of her father's blood
+was apparent as she seized the reins and stood back from the horse.
+"Because you're bluffing this morning, I'm going to make you do your
+latest trick.  Down!" she commanded.  The pony extended his foreleg and
+begged to shake hands.  "No!  Down!"  With a grunt the horse dropped to
+his knees, rolled to his side, but still kept his head raised.  "Clear
+down!  Dead, Challenge!"  The horse lay with extended neck, but
+switched his tail significantly.  "Don't you dare roll!" she said, as
+he gave evidence of getting up.  Then, at her gesture, he heaved
+himself to his feet and shook himself till the stirrups clattered.  The
+girl dropped the reins and turned to the old herder.  "I taught him
+that, Fernando.  I didn't make him do it just to show off.  He
+understands now, and he'll behave."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Old Fernando grinned.  "He always have the good manner, being always
+with the Seņorita," he said bowing.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Thanks, Fernando.  You always say something nice.  But I can't let you
+get ahead of me.  What a pretty scarf.  It's just right.  Do you wear
+it always, Fernando?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is&mdash;I know&mdash;what the vaquero of the Concho call the 'josh' that you
+give me, but I am yet not too old to like it.  It is muy pleasure, si!
+to be noticed when one is old&mdash;by the Seņorita of especial."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The girl's dark eyes flashed and she laughed happily.  "It's lots of
+fun, isn't it&mdash;to 'josh'?  But I came to see if you needed anything."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Nothing while still the Seņorita is at thees camp."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, you'd better think up something, for I'm going in a minute.
+Have to make the rounds.  Dad is down with the rheumatism and as cross
+as a grizzly.  I was glad to get away.  And then, there's Madre."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Fernando smiled and nodded.  He was not unfamiliar with the patron's
+temper when rheumatism obliged him to be inactive.  "He say nothing,
+the patron&mdash;that we cross the sheep to the west of the river, Seņorita?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No.  Not lately.  I don't know why he should want to.  The feed is
+good here."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I have this morning talk with the vaquero Corlees.  He tell me that
+the South Fork is dry up."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"John Corliss is not usually interested in our sheep," said the girl.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No.  Of the sheep he knows nothing."  And the old herder smiled.  "But
+many times he look out there," he added, pointing toward the Loring
+rancho.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He was afraid father would catch him talking to one of the herders,"
+laughed the girl.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The vaquero Corlees he afraid of not even the bear, I think, Seņorita."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Eleanor Loring laughed.  "Don't you let father catch you calling him a
+bear!" she cautioned, provoking the old herder to immediate apology and
+a picturesque explanation of the fact that he had referred not to the
+patron, but the grizzly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"All right, Fernando.  I'll not forget to tell the patron that you
+called him a bear."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The old herder grinned and waved farewell as she mounted and rode down
+the trail.  Practical in everyday affairs, he untied his bandanna and
+neatly folded and replaced it among his effects.  As he came out of the
+tent he picked up his hat.  He was no longer the cavalier, but a
+stoop-shouldered, shriveled little Mexican herder.  He slouched out
+toward the flock and called his son to dinner.  No, it was not so many
+years&mdash;was not the Seņorita but twenty years old?&mdash;since he had wooed
+the Seņora Loring, then a slim dark girl of the people, his people, but
+now the wealthy Seņora, wife of his patron.  Ah, yes!  It was good that
+she should have the comfortable home and the beautiful daughter.  He
+had nothing but his beloved sheep, but did they not belong to his
+Seņorita?
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P>
+At the ford the girl took the trail to the uplands, deciding to visit
+the farthest camp first, and then, if she had time, to call at one or
+two other camps on her way back to the rancho.  As the trail grew
+steeper, she curbed the impatient Challenge to a steadier pace and rode
+leisurely to the level of the timber.  On the park-like level,
+clean-swept between the boles of the great pines, she again put
+Challenge to a lope until she came to the edge on the upper mesa.  Then
+she drew up suddenly and held the horse in.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Far out on the mesa was the figure of a man, on foot.  Toward him came
+a horse without bridle or saddle.  She recognized the figure as that of
+John Corliss, and she wondered why he was on foot and evidently trying
+to coax a stray horse toward him.  Presently she saw Corliss reach out
+slowly and give the horse something from his hand.  Still she was
+puzzled, and urging Challenge forward, drew nearer.  The stray, seeing
+her horse, pricked up its ears, swung round stiffly, and galloped off.
+Corliss turned and held up his hand, palm toward her.  It was their old
+greeting; a greeting that they had exchanged as boy and girl long
+before David Loring had become recognized as a power to be reckoned
+with in the Concho Valley.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Peace?" she queried, smiling, as she rode up.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why not, Nell?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, cattle and sheep, I suppose.  There's no other reason, is there?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss was silent, thinking of his brother Will.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Unless&mdash;Will&mdash;" she said, reading his thought.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He shook his head, "That would be no reason for&mdash;for our quarreling,
+would it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She laughed.  "Why, who has quarreled?  I'm sure I haven't."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But you don't seem the same&mdash;since Will left."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Neither do you, John.  You haven't called at the rancho for&mdash;well,
+about a year."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And then I was told to stay away even longer than that."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, you mustn't mind Dad.  He growls&mdash;but he won't bite."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss glanced up at her.  His steady gray eyes were smiling, but his
+lips were grave.  "Would it make any difference if I did come?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The girl's dark face flushed and her eyes sparkled.  "Lots!  Perhaps
+you and Dad could agree to stop growling altogether.  But we won't talk
+about it.  I'd like to know what you are doing up here afoot?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Wouldn't tell you for a dollar," he replied, smiling.  "My horse is
+over there&mdash;near the timber.  The rest of the band are at the
+waterhole."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, but you will tell me!" she said.  "And before we get back to the
+caņon."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I wasn't headed that way&mdash;" he began; but she interrupted quickly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Of course.  I'm not, either."  Then she glanced at him with mischief
+scintillating in her dark eyes.  "Fernando told me you were talking
+with him this morning.  I don't see that it has done you much good."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+His perplexity was apparent in his silence.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Fernando is&mdash;is polite," she asserted, wheeling her horse.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss stood gazing at her unsmilingly.  "I want to be," he said
+presently.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, John!  I&mdash;you always take things so seriously.  I was just
+'joshing' you, as Fernando says.  Of course you do!  Won't you shake
+hands?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He strode forward.  The girl drew off her gauntlet and extended her
+hand.  "Let's begin over again," she said as he shook hands with her.
+"We've both been acting."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Before she was aware of his intent, he bowed his head and kissed her
+fingers.  She drew her hand away with a little cry of surprise.  She
+was pleased, yet he mistook her expression.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He flushed and, confused, drew back.  "I&mdash;I didn't mean it," he said,
+as though apologizing for his gallantry.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The girl's eyes dilated for an instant.  Then she laughed with all the
+joyous <I>abandon</I> of youth and absolute health.  "You get worse and
+worse," she said, teasingly.  "Do go and have another talk with
+Fernando, John.  Then come and tell me all about it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Despite her teasing, Corliss was beginning to enjoy the play.  As a
+rule undemonstrative, he was when moved capable of intense feeling, and
+the girl knew it.  She saw a light in his eyes that she recognized; a
+light that she remembered well, for once when they were boy and girl
+together she had dared him to kiss her, and had not been disappointed.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You are cross this morning," she said, making as though to go.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, I've begun over again, Nell.  You wait till I get Chinook and
+we'll ride home together."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, but I'm&mdash;you're not going that way," she mocked.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, I am&mdash;and so are you.  If you won't wait, I'll catch you up,
+anyway.  You daren't put Challenge down the caņon trail faster than a
+walk."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I daren't?  Then, catch me!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She wheeled her pony and sped toward the timber.  Corliss, running
+heavily in his high-heeled boots, caught up his own horse and leaped to
+the saddle as Chinook broke into a run.  The young rancher knew that
+the girl would do her best to beat him to the caņon level.  He feared
+for her safety on the ragged trail below them.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Chinook swung down the trail taking the turns without slackening his
+speed and Corliss, leaning in on the curves, dodged the sweeping
+branches.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Arrived at the far edge of the timber, he could see the girl ahead of
+him, urging Challenge down the rain-gutted trail at a lope.  As she
+pulled up at an abrupt turn, she waved to him.  He accepted the
+challenge and, despite his better judgment, set spurs to Chinook.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Round the next turn he reined up and leaped from his horse.  Below him
+he saw Challenge, riderless, and galloping along the edge of the
+hillside.  On the trail lay Eleanor Loring, her black hair vivid
+against the gray of the shale.  He plunged toward her and stooping
+caught her up in his arms.  "Nell!  Nell!" he cried, smoothing back her
+hair from her forehead.  "God, Nell!  I&mdash;I didn't mean it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Her eyelids quivered.  Then she gasped.  He could feel her trembling.
+Presently her eyes opened and a faint smile touched her white lips.
+"I'm all right.  Challenge fell&mdash;and I jumped clear.  Struck my head.
+Don't look at me like that!  I'm not going to die."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'm&mdash;I'm mighty glad, Nell!" he said, helping her to a seat on the
+rock against which she had fallen.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Her hands were busy with her hair.  He found her hat and handed it to
+her.  "If my head wasn't just splitting, I'd like to laugh.  You are
+the funniest man alive!  I couldn't speak, but I heard you call to me
+and tell me you didn't mean it!  Then you say you are mighty glad I'm
+alive.  Doesn't that sound funny enough to bring a person to life
+again?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, it's not funny.  It was a close call."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She glanced at his grave, white face.  "Guess you were scared, John.  I
+didn't know you could be scared at anything.  Jack Corliss as white as
+a sheet and trembling like a&mdash;a girl!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"On account of a girl," said Corliss, smiling a little.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Now, <I>that</I> sounds better.  What were you doing up on the mesa this
+afternoon?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I took some lump-sugar up for my old pony, Apache.  He likes it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, I'll never forget it!" she exclaimed.  "How the boys would laugh
+if they heard <I>you'd</I> been feeding sugar to an old broken-down
+cow-pony!  You!  Why, I feel better already."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'm right glad you do, Nell.  But you needn't say anything about the
+sugar.  I kind of like the old hoss.  Will you promise?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't know.  Oh, my head!"  She went white and leaned against him.
+He put his arm around her, and her head lay back against his shoulder.
+"I'll be all right&mdash;in a minute," she murmured.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He bent above her, his eyes burning.  Slowly he drew her close and
+kissed her lips.  Her eyelids quivered and lifted.  "Nell!" he
+whispered.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Did you mean it?" she murmured, smiling wanly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He drew his head back and gazed at her up-turned face.  "I'm all
+right," she said, and drew herself up beside him.  "Serves me right for
+putting Challenge down the trail so fast."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+As they rode homeward Corliss told her of the advent of Sundown and
+what the latter had said about the wreck and the final disappearance of
+his "pal," Will Corliss.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The girl heard him silently and had nothing to say until they parted at
+the ford.  Then she turned to him.  "I don't believe Will was killed.
+I can't say why, but if he had been killed I think I should have known
+it.  Don't ask me to explain, John.  I have always expected that he
+would come back.  I have been thinking about him lately."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I can't understand it," said Corliss.  "Will always had what he
+wanted.  He owns a half-interest in the Concho.  I can't do as I want
+to, sometimes.  My hands are tied, for if I made a bad move and lost
+out, I'd be sinking Will's money with mine."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I wouldn't make any bad moves if I were you," said the girl, glancing
+at the rancher's grave face.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Business is business, Nell.  We needn't begin that old argument.
+Only, understand this: I'll play square just as long as the other side
+plays square.  There's going to be trouble before long and you know
+why.  It won't begin on the west side of the Concho."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Good-bye, John," said the girl, reining her pony around.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He raised his hat.  Then he wheeled Chinook and loped toward the ranch.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Eleanor Loring, riding slowly, thought of what he had said.  "He won't
+give in an inch," she said aloud.  "Will would have given up the cattle
+business, or anything else, to please me."  Then she reasoned with
+herself, knowing that Will Corliss had given up all interest in the
+Concho, not to please her but to hurt her, for the night before his
+disappearance he had asked her to marry him and she had very sensibly
+refused, telling him frankly that she liked him, but that until he had
+settled down to something worth while she had no other answer for him.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She was thinking of Will when she rode in to the rancho and turned her
+horse over to Miguel.  Suddenly she flushed, remembering John Corliss's
+eyes as he had held her in his arms.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap06"></A>
+<H2 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER VI
+</H2>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+THE BROTHERS
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+As Corliss rode up to the ranch gate he took the mail from the little
+wooden mail-box and stuffed it into his pocket with the exception of a
+letter which bore the postmark of Antelope and his address in a
+familiar handwriting.  He tore the envelope open hastily and glanced at
+the signature, "Will."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Then he read the letter.  It told of his brother's unexpected arrival
+in Antelope, penniless and sick.  Corliss was not altogether surprised
+except in regard to the intuition of Eleanor, which puzzled him, coming
+as it had so immediately preceding the letter.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He rode to the rancho and ordered one of the men to have the buckboard
+at the gate early next morning.  He wondered why his brother had not
+driven out to the ranch, being well known in Antelope and able to
+command credit.  Then he thought of Eleanor, and surmised that his
+brother possibly wished to avoid meeting her.  And as it happened, he
+was not mistaken.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+On the evening of the following day he drove up to the Palace Hotel and
+inquired for his brother.  The proprietor drew him to one side.  "It's
+all right for you to see him, John, but I been tryin' to keep him in
+his room.  He's&mdash;well, he ain't just feelin' right to be on the street.
+Sabe?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss nodded, and turning, climbed the stairs.  He knocked at a door.
+There was no response.  He knocked again.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What you want?" came in a muffled voice.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It's John," said Corliss.  "Let me in."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The door opened, and Corliss stepped into the room to confront a dismal
+scene.  On the washstand stood several empty whiskey bottles and murky
+glasses.  The bedding was half on the floor, and standing with hand
+braced against the wall was Will Corliss, ragged, unshaven, and visibly
+trembling.  His eyelids were red and swollen.  His face was white save
+for the spots that burned on his emaciated cheeks.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"John!" he exclaimed, and extended his hand.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss shook hands with him and then motioned him to a chair.  "Well,
+Will, if you're sick, this isn't the way to get over it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Brother's keeper, eh?  Glad to see me back, eh, Jack?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not in this shape.  What do you suppose Nell would think?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't know and I don't care.  I'm sick.  That's all."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Where have you been&mdash;for the last three years?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"A whole lot you care.  Been?  I have been everywhere from heaven to
+hell&mdash;the whole route.  I'm in hell just now."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You look it.  Will, what can I do for you?  You want to quit the booze
+and straighten up.  You're killing yourself."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Maybe I don't know it!  Say, Jack, I want some dough.  I'm broke."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"All right.  How much?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"A couple of hundred&mdash;for a starter."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What are you going to do with it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What do you suppose?  Not going to eat it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No.  And you're not going to drink it, either.  I'll see that you have
+everything you need.  You're of age and can do as you like.  But you're
+not going to kill yourself with whiskey."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Will Corliss stared at his brother; then laughed.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Have one with me, Jack.  You didn't used to be afraid of it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'm not now, but I'm not going to take a drink with you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Sorry.  Well, here's looking."  And the brother poured himself a
+half-tumblerful of whiskey and gulped it down.  "Now, let's talk
+business."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss smiled despite his disgust.  "All right.  You talk and I'll
+listen."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The brother slouched to the bed and sat down.  "How's the Concho been
+making it?" he asked.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We've been doing pretty fair.  I've been busy."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How's old man Loring?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"About the same."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Nell gone into mourning?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss frowned and straightened his shoulders.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"See here, Will, you said you'd talk business.  I'm waiting."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Touched you that time, eh?  Well, you can have Nell and be damned.  No
+Mexican blood for mine."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If you weren't down and out&mdash;" began Corliss; then checked himself.
+"Go ahead.  What do you want?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I told you&mdash;money."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And I told you&mdash;no."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The younger man started up.  "Think because I'm edged up that I don't
+know what's mine?  You've been piling it up for three years and I've
+been hitting the road.  Now I've come to get what belongs to me and I'm
+going to get it!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"All right, Will.  But don't forget that I was made guardian of your
+interest in the Concho until you got old enough to be responsible.  The
+will reads, until you come of age, providing you had settled down and
+showed that you could take care of yourself.  Father didn't leave his
+money to either of us to be drunk up, or wasted."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Prodigal son, eh, Jack?  Well, I'm it.  What's the use of getting sore
+at me?  All I want is a couple of hundred and I'll get out of this town
+mighty quick.  It's the deadest burg I've struck yet."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+John Corliss gazed at his brother, thinking of the bright-faced,
+blue-eyed lad that had ridden the mesas and the hills with him.  He was
+touched by the other's miserable condition, and even more grieved to
+realize that this condition was but the outcome of a rapid lowering of
+the other's moral and physical well-being.  He strode to him and sat
+beside him.  "Will, I'll give anything I have to help you.  You know
+that.  Anything!  You're so changed that it just makes me sick to
+realize it.  You needn't have got where you are.  I would have helped
+you out any time.  Why didn't you write to me?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Write?  And have you tell Nell Loring how your good little brother was
+whining for help?  She would have enjoyed that&mdash;after what she handed
+me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't know what she said to you," said Corliss, glancing at his
+brother.  "But I know this: she didn't say anything that wasn't so.  If
+that's the reason you left home, it was a mighty poor one.  You've
+always had your own way, Will."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why shouldn't I?  Who's got anything to say about it?  You seem to
+think that I always need looking after&mdash;you and Nell Loring.  I can
+look after myself."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Doesn't look like it," said Corliss, gesturing toward the washstand.
+"Had anything to eat to-day?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, and I don't want anything."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, wash up and we'll go and get some clothes and something to eat.
+I'll wait."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You needn't.  Just give me a check&mdash;and I won't bother you after that."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No.  I said wash up!  Get busy now!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The younger man demurred, but finally did as he was told.  They went
+downstairs and out to the street.  In an hour they returned, Will
+Corliss looking somewhat like his former self in respectable raiment.
+"John," he said as they entered the room again, "you've always been a
+good old stand-by, ever since we were kids.  I guess I got in bad this
+time, but I'm going to quit.  I don't want to go back to the
+Concho&mdash;you know why.  If you'll give me some dough I'll take care of
+myself.  Just forget what I said about my share of the money."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Wait till morning," said Corliss.  "I'll take the room next, here, and
+if you get to feeling bad, call me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"All right, Jack.  I'll cut it out.  Maybe I will go back to the
+Concho; I don't know."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Wish you would, Will.  You'll get on your feet.  There's plenty to do
+and we're short-handed.  Think it over."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Does&mdash;Nell&mdash;ever say anything?" queried the brother.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"She talks about you often.  Yesterday we were talking about you.  I
+told her what Sundown said about&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Sundown?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Forgot about him.  He drifted in a few months ago.  I met up with him
+at the water-hole ranch.  He was broke and looking for work.  Gave him
+a job cooking, and he made good.  He told me that he used to have a pal
+named Will Corliss&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And Sundown's at the Concho!  I never told him where I lived."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He came into Antelope on a freight.  Got side-tracked and had to stay.
+He didn't know this used to be your country till I told him."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, that beats me, Jack!  Say, Sun was just an uncle to me when we
+were on the road.  We made it clear around, freights, cattle-boats, and
+afoot.  I didn't hit the booze then.  Funny thing: he used to hit it,
+and I kind of weaned him.  Now it's me&#8230;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He's straight, all right," said Corliss.  "He 'tends right to
+business.  The boys like him."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Everybody liked him," asserted Will Corliss.  "But he is the queerest
+Hobo that ever hit the grit."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Some queer, at that.  It's after nine now, Will.  You get to bed.  I
+want to see Banks a minute.  I'll be back soon."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+When John Corliss had left the room, something intangible went with
+him.  Will felt his moral stamina crumbling.  He waited until he heard
+his brother leave the hotel.  Then he went downstairs and returned with
+a bottle of whiskey.  He drank, hid the bottle, and went to bed.  He
+knew that without the whiskey he would have been unable to sleep.
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P>
+The brothers had breakfast together next morning.  After breakfast
+Corliss went for the team and returned to the hotel, hoping to induce
+his brother to come home with him.  Will Corliss, however, pleaded
+weariness, and said that he would stay at the Palace until he felt
+better.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"All right, Will.  I'll leave some cash with Banks.  He'll give you
+what you need as you want it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Banks?  The sheriff?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, all right.  Suppose you think I'm not to be trusted."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No.  But we'll leave it that way till I see you again.  Write in if
+you need me&mdash;and take care of yourself.  When you get ready to settle
+down, I'll turn over your share of the Concho to you.  So long, Will."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Will Corliss watched his brother drive away.  When the team had
+disappeared up the road he walked down the street to the sheriff's
+office.  The sheriff greeted him cordially.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I came for that money, Jim."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Sure!  Here you are," and the sheriff handed him a five-dollar
+gold-piece.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Quit kidding and come across," said Corliss, ignoring the significance
+of the allowance.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Can't, Will.  John said to give you five any time you wanted it, but
+only five a day."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He did, eh?  John's getting mighty close in his old age, ain't he?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mebby.  I don't know."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How much did he leave for me?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Five a day, as I said."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, you go to hell!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The sheriff smiled pleasantly.  "Nope, Billy!  I'm goin' to stay right
+to home.  Have a cigar?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The young man refused the proffered cigar, picked up the gold-piece and
+strolled out.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The sheriff leaned back in his chair.  "Well if Billy feels that way
+toward folks, reckon he won't get far with John, or anybody else.  Too
+dinged bad.  He used to be a good kid."
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap07"></A>
+<H2 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER VII
+</H2>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+FADEAWAY'S HAND
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+Fadeaway, one of the Concho riders, urged his cayuse through the ford,
+reined short, and turned to watch Chance, who accompanied him.  The dog
+drew back from the edge of the stream and bunching himself, shot up and
+over the muddy water, nor did the jump break his stride as he leaped to
+overtake the rider, who had spurred out of his way.  Fadeaway cursed
+joyously and put his pony to a lope.  Stride for stride Chance ran
+beside him.  The cowboy, swaying easily, turned and looked down upon
+the dog.  Chance was enjoying himself.  "Wonder how fast the cuss <I>can</I>
+run?"  And Fadeaway swung his quirt.  The stride quickened to the
+rhythmic beat of the cow-horse at top speed.  The dog kept abreast
+without apparent effort.  A half-mile beyond the ford the pace
+slackened as the pony took the hill across which the trail led to the
+open mesas.  As they topped the rise Fadeaway again urged his cayuse to
+a run, for the puncher had enjoyed the hospitality of his companions of
+"The Blue," a distant cattle ranch, a day longer than had been set for
+his return to the Concho.  Just then a startled jack rabbit leaped up
+and bounced down the trail ahead of them.  Fadeaway jerked his horse to
+a stop.  "Now we'll see some real speed!" he said.  There was a flash
+of the dog's long body, which grew smaller and smaller in the distance;
+then a puff of dust spurted up.  Fadeaway saw the dog turn end over
+end, regain his feet and toss something in the air.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The fastest dog in Arizona," remarked the cowboy.  "And you, you
+glass-eyed son of a mistake, you're about as fast as a fence-post!"
+This to his patient and willing pony, that again swung into a run and
+ran steadily despite his fatigue, for he feared the instant slash of
+the quirt should he slacken pace.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Round a bend in the trail, where an arm of the distant forest ran out
+into the mesa.  Fadeaway again set his horse up viciously.  Chance
+stopped and looked up at the rider.  The cowboy pointed through the
+thin rim of timber beyond which a herd of sheep was grazing.  "Take
+'em!" he whispered.  Chance hesitated, not because he was unfamiliar
+with sheep, but because he had been punished for chasing and worrying
+them.  "Go to it!  Take 'em, Chance!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The dog slunk through the timber and disappeared.  The cowboy rode
+slowly, peering through the timber.  Presently came the trample of
+frightened sheep&mdash;a shrill bleating, and then silence.  Fadeaway loped
+out into the open.  The sheep were running in all directions.  He
+whistled the dog to him.  Chance's muzzle dripped red.  The dog slunk
+round behind the horse, knowing that he had done wrong, despite the
+fact that he had been set upon the sheep.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+From the edge of the timber some one shouted.  The cowboy turned and
+saw a herder running toward him.  He reined around and sat waiting
+grimly.  When the herder was within speaking distance.  Fadeaway's hand
+dropped to his hip and the herder stopped.  He gesticulated and spoke
+rapidly in Spanish.  Fadeaway answered, but in a kind of Spanish not
+taught in schools or heard in indoor conversation.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The herder pressed forward.  "Why, how! Fernando.  Now what's bitin'
+you?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The sheep!  He kill the lamb!" cried the herder.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Fadeaway laughed.  "Did, eh?  Well, I tried to call him off.  Reckon
+you heard me whistle him, didn't you?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The cowboy's assertion was so palpably an insult that old Fernando's
+anger overcame his caution.  He stepped forward threateningly.
+Fadeaway's gun was out and a splash of dust leaped up at Fernando's
+feet.  The herder turned and ran.  Fadeaway laughed and swung away at a
+lope.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+When he arrived at the Concho he unsaddled, turned his pony into the
+corral, and called to Chance.  He was at the water-trough washing the
+dog's muzzle when John Corliss appeared.  Fadeaway straightened up.  He
+knew what was coming and knew that he deserved it.  The effects of his
+conviviality at the Blue had worn off, leaving him in an ugly mood.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss looked him over from head to heel.  Then he glanced at the dog.
+Chance turned his head down and sideways, avoiding his master's eye.
+Fadeaway laughed.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You get your time!" said Corliss.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You're dam' right!" retorted Fadeaway.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And you're damned wrong!  Chance knows better than to tackle sheep
+unless he's put up to it.  You needn't explain.  Bud will give you your
+time."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Then Corliss turned to Shoop who had just ridden in.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Chain that dog up and keep him chained up!  And give Fadeaway his
+time, right up to the minute!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Shoop dropped easily from the saddle, led his horse toward the corral,
+and whistled a sprightly ditty as he unsaddled him.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Fadeaway rolled a cigarette and strolled over to the bunk-house where
+he retailed his visit and its climax to a group of interested punchers.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"So he tied the can onto you, eh?  And for settin' Chance on the sheep?
+He ought to be much obliged to you, Fade.  They ain't room for sheep
+and cattle both on this here range.  We're gettin' backed plumb into
+the sunset."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Fadeaway nodded to the puncher who had spoken.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And ole man Loring's just run in twenty thousand head from New Mex.,"
+continued the puncher.  "Wonder how Corliss likes that?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Don' know&mdash;and dam' 'f I care.  If a guy can't have a little sport
+without gettin' fired for it, why, that guy don't work for the Concho.
+The Blue's good enough for me and I can get a job ridin' for the Blue
+any time I want to cinch up."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, Fade, I reckon you better cinch up pronto, then," said Shoop who
+had just entered.  "Here's your time.  Jack's some sore, believe me!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Sore, eh?  Well, before he gets through with me he'll be sorer.  You
+can tell him for me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"'Course I <I>can</I>&mdash;but I ain't goin' to.  And I wouldn't if I was you.
+No use showin' your hand so early in the game."  And Shoop laughed.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, she's full&mdash;six aces," said Fadeaway, touching his holster
+significantly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And Jack throws the fastest gun on the Concho," said Shoop, his genial
+smile gone; his face flushed.  "I been your friend, if I do say it,
+Fade.  But don't you go away with any little ole idea that I ain't
+workin' for Jack Corliss."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What's that to me?  I'm fired, ain't I?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Correct.  Only I was thinkin' your cayuse is all in.  You couldn't get
+out of sight on him tonight.  But you can take one of my string and
+send it back when you get ready."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, I ain't sweatin' to hit the trail," said Fadeaway, for the benefit
+of his audience.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"All right, Fade.  But the boss is.  It's up to you."
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P>
+After he had eaten, Fadeaway rolled his few belongings in his slicker
+and tied it to the saddle.  He was not afraid of Corliss, but like men
+of his stamp he wanted Corliss to know that he was not alone unafraid,
+but willing to be aggressive.  He mounted and rode up to the
+ranch-house.  Corliss, who had seen him approach through the window,
+sat at his desk, waiting for the cow-boy to dismount and come in.  But
+Fadeaway sat his horse, determined to make the rancher come outside.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss understood, and pushing back his chair, strode to the doorway.
+"Want to see me?" he asked.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Fadeaway noticed that Corliss was unarmed, and he twisted the
+circumstance to suit a false interpretation of the fact.  "Playin'
+safe!" he sneered.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss flushed and the veins swelled on his neck, but he kept silent.
+He looked the cowboy in the eye and was met by a gaze as steady as his
+own; an aggressive and insolent gaze that had for its backing sheer
+physical courage and nothing more.  It became a battle of mental
+endurance and Corliss eventually won.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+After the lapse of several seconds, the cowboy spoke to his horse.
+"Come on, Doc!  The son-of-a&mdash;&mdash;- is loco."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss heard, but held his peace.  He stood watching the cowboy until
+the latter was out on the road.  He noticed that he took the northern
+branch, toward Antelope.  Then the rancher entered the house, picked up
+his hat, buckled on his gun, and hastened to the corral.  He saddled
+Chinook and took the trail to the Loring rancho.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He rode slowly, trying to arrive at the best method of presenting his
+side of the sheep-killing to Loring.  He hoped that Eleanor Loring
+would not be present during the interview with her father.  He was
+disappointed, for she came from the wide veranda as he rode up and
+greeted him.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Won't you come in?" she asked.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I guess not.  I'd like to see your father."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She knew that her father had forbidden Corliss the house, and, indeed,
+the premises.  She wondered what urgency brought him to the rancho.
+"I'll call him, then."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss answered the grave questioning in her eyes briefly.  "The
+sheep," he said.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh!"  She turned and stepped to the veranda.  "Dad, John is here."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+David Loring came to the doorway and stood blinking at Corliss.  He did
+not speak.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mr. Loring, one of my men set Chance on a band of your sheep.  My
+foreman tells me that Chance killed a lamb.  I want to pay for it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Loring had expected something of the kind.  "Mighty proud of it, I
+reckon?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, I'm not proud of it.  I apologize&mdash;for the Concho."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You say it easy."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, it isn't easy to say&mdash;to you.  I'll pay the damage.  How much?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Your dog, eh?  Well, if you'll shoot the dam' dog the lamb won't cost
+you a cent."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, I won't shoot the dog.  He was put up to it.  I fired the man that
+set him on to the sheep."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That's your business.  But that don't square you with me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'll settle, if you'll fix the price," said Corliss.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You will, eh?  Then, mebby you'd think you was square with ole man
+Loring and come foolin' around here like that tramp brother of yours.
+Fine doin's in Antelope, from what I hear."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Dad!" exclaimed the girl, stepping to her father.  "Dad!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You go in the house, Nellie!  We'll settle this."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss dismounted and strode up to Loring.  "If you weren't an old man
+I'd give you the licking of your life!  I've offered to settle with you
+and I've apologized.  You don't belong in a white man's country."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I got a pup that barks jest like that&mdash;and he's afraid of his own
+bark," said Loring.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Have it your way.  I'm through."  And Corliss stepped to his horse.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, I ain't!" cried Loring.  "I'm jest startin' in!  You better
+crawl your cayuse and eat the wind for home, Mr. Concho Jack!  And
+lemme tell you this: they's twenty thousand head of my sheep goin' to
+cross the Concho, and the first puncher that runs any of my sheep is
+goin' to finish in smoke!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"All right, Loring.  Glad you put me on to your scheme.  I don't want
+trouble with you, but if you're set on having trouble, you can find it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The old man straightened and shook his fist at the rancher.  "Fust time
+you ever talked like a man in your life.  Nex' thing is to see if you
+got sand enough to back it up.  There's the gate."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss mounted and wheeled his horse.  The girl, who stood beside her
+father, started forward as though to speak to the rancher.  Loring
+seized her arm.  Her face flamed and she turned on her father.  "Dad!
+Let me go!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He shrunk beneath her steady gaze.  He released her arm and she stepped
+up to Corliss.  "I'm sorry, John," she said, and offered her hand.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You heard it all, Nell.  I'd do anything to save you all this, if I
+could."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Anything?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, try and get Will&mdash;to&mdash;stop drinking.  He&mdash;I heard all about it.
+I can't do anything to help.  You ought to look after him.  He's your
+brother.  He's telling folks in Antelope that you refused to help him.
+Is that so?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I refused to give him two hundred dollars to blow in if that's what
+you mean."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Did you quarrel with Will?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No.  I asked him to come home.  I knew he wouldn't."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes.  And I think I know how you went at it.  I wish I could talk to
+him."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I wish you would.  You can do more with him than anybody."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Loring strode toward Corliss.  The girl turned to her father.  He
+raised his arm and pointed toward the road.  "You git!" he said.  She
+reached up and patted his grizzled cheek.  Then she clung to him,
+sobbing.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap08"></A>
+<H2 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER VIII
+</H2>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+AT "THE LAST CHANCE"
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+The afternoon following the day of his discharge from the Concho,
+Fadeaway rode into Antelope, tied his pony to the hitching-rail in
+front of "The Last Chance," and entered the saloon.  Several men loafed
+at the bar.  The cowboy, known as "a good spender when flush," was made
+welcome.  He said nothing about being out of employment, craftily
+anticipating the possibility of having to ask for credit later, as he
+had but a half-month's pay with him.  He was discussing the probability
+of early rains with a companion when Will Corliss entered the place.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Fadeaway greeted him with loud, counterfeit heartiness, and they drank
+together.  Their talk centered on the Concho.  Gradually they drew away
+from the group at the bar.  Finally Corliss mentioned his brother.
+Fadeaway at once became taciturn.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss noticed this and questioned the puncher.  "Had a row with
+Jack?" he asked.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Between you and me, I did.  He fired me, couple of days ago."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Full?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Nope.  Chance killed one of Loring's sheep.  John hung it onto me,
+seein' Chance was with me.  Guess John's gettin' religion."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss laughed, and his lips twisted to a sneer.  "Guess he is.  I
+tried to touch him for two hundred of my own money and he turned me
+down.  Maybe I like it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Turned you down, eh!  That's what I call nerve!  And you been away
+three year and more.  Reckon, by the way the Concho is makin' good, you
+got more'n two hundred comin'.  She's half yours, ain't she?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes.  And I'm going to get my share.  He told me I could have a
+job&mdash;that he was short-handed.  What do you think of that!  And I own
+half the Concho!  I guess I'd like to ride range with a lot of&mdash;well,
+you understand, Fade.  I never liked the Concho and I never will.
+Let's have another.  No.  This is on me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Again they drank and Corliss became more talkative.  He posed as one
+wronged by society in general and his brother especially.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+As his talk grew louder, Fadeaway cautioned him.  "Easy, Billy.  No use
+advertisin'.  Come on over here."  And Fadeaway gestured toward one of
+the tables in the rear of the room.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss was about to retort to the other's apparently good-natured
+interference with his right to free speech, when he caught Fadeaway's
+glance.  "Well?" he exclaimed.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The cowboy evidently had something to say in confidence.  Corliss
+followed him to one of the tables.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It's this way," began the cowboy.  "You're sore at Jack.  Now Jack's
+got friends here and it won't help you any to let 'em know you're sore
+at him.  I ain't feelin' like kissin' him myself&mdash;right now.  But I
+ain't advertisin' it.  What you want to do is&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What's that got to do with me?" interrupted Corliss.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Fadeaway laughed.  "Nothin'&mdash;if you like.  Only there's been doin's
+since you lit out."  And he paused to let the inference sink in.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You mean&mdash;?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Look here, Billy.  I been your friend ever since you was a kid.  And
+seein' you're kind of out of luck makes me sore&mdash;when I think what's
+yours by rights.  Mebby I'm ridin' over the line some to say it, but
+from what I seen since you been gone, Jack ain't goin' to cry any if
+you never come back.  Old man Loring ain't goin' to live more'n a
+thousand years.  Mebby Jack don't jest love him&mdash;but Jack ain't been
+losin' any time since you been gone."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss flushed.  "I suppose I don't know that!  But he hasn't seen the
+last of me yet."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If I had what's comin' to you, you bet I wouldn't work on no
+cattle-ranch, either.  I'd sure hire a law-shark and find out where I
+got off."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Fadeaway's suggestion had its intended effect.  The younger man knew
+that an appeal to the law would be futile so long as he chose to ignore
+that clause in the will which covered the contingency he was
+illustrating by his conduct.  Fadeaway again cautioned him as he became
+loud in his invective against his brother.  The cowboy, while posing as
+friend and adviser, was in reality working out a subtle plan of his
+own, a plan of which Corliss had not the slightest inkling.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And the Concho's makin' good," said Fadeaway, helping himself to a
+drink.  He shoved the bottle toward Corliss.  "Take a little
+'Forget-it,' Billy.  That's her!  Here's to what's yours!"  They drank
+together.  The cowboy rolled a cigarette, tilted back his chair, and
+puffed thoughtfully.  "Yes, she's makin' good.  Why, Bud is gettin' a
+hundred and twenty-five, now.  Old Hi Wingle's drawin' down
+eighty&mdash;Jack's payin' the best wages in this country.  Must of cleaned
+up four or five thousand last year.  And here you're settin', broke."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, you needn't rub it in," said Corliss, frowning.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Fadeaway grinned.  "I ain't, Billy.  I'm out of a job myself: and
+nothin' comin'&mdash;like you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss felt that there was something in his companion's easy drift
+that had not as yet come to the surface.  Fadeaway's hard-lined face
+was unreadable.  The cowboy saw a question in the other's eyes and
+cleverly ignored it.  Since meeting the brother he had arrived at a
+plan to revenge himself on John Corliss and he intended that the
+brother should take the initiative.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He got up and proffered his hand.  "So long, Billy.  If you ever need a
+friend, you know where to find him."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Hold on, Fade.  What's your rush?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Got to see a fella.  Mebby I'll drop in later."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss rose.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Fadeaway leaned across the table.  "I'm broke, and you're broke.  The
+Concho pays off Monday, next week.  The boys got three months
+comin'&mdash;close to eighteen hundred&mdash;and gold."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Gold?  Thought John paid by check?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He's tryin' to keep the boys from cashin' in, here.  Things are goin'
+to be lively between Loring and the Concho before long.  Jack needs all
+the hands he's got."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But I don't see what that's got to do with it, Fade."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Nothing 'ceptin' I'm game to stand by a pal&mdash;any time."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You mean&mdash;?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Jest a josh, Billy.  I was only thinkin' what <I>could</I> be pulled off by
+a couple of wise ones.  So-long!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+And the cowboy departed wondering just how far his covert suggestion
+had carried with Will Corliss.  As for Will Corliss, Fadeaway cared
+nothing whatever.  Nor did he intend to risk getting caught with a
+share of the money in his possession, provided his plan was carried to
+a conclusion.  He anticipated that John Corliss would be away from the
+ranch frequently, owing to the threatened encroachment of Loring's
+sheep on the west side of the Concho River.  Tony, the Mexican, would
+be left in charge of the ranch.  Will Corliss knew the combination of
+the safe&mdash;of that Fadeaway was pretty certain.  Should they get the
+money, people in the valley would most naturally suspect the brother.
+And Fadeaway reasoned that John Corliss would take no steps to recover
+the money should suspicion point to his brother having stolen it.
+Meanwhile he would wait.
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P>
+Shortly after Fadeaway had gone out, Will Corliss got up and sauntered
+to the street.  He gazed up and down the straggling length of Antelope
+and cursed.  Then he walked across to the sheriff's office.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The sheriff motioned him to a chair, which he declined.  "Better sit
+down, Billy.  I want to talk to you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Haven't got time," said Corliss.  "You know what I came for."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That's just what I want to talk about.  See here, Billy, you've been
+hitting it up pretty steady this week.  Here's the prospect.  John told
+me to hand you five a day for a week.  You got clothes, grub, and a
+place to sleep and all paid for.  You could go out to the ranch if you
+wanted to.  The week is up and you're goin' it just the same.  If you
+want any more money you'll have to see John.  I give you all he left
+with me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"By God, that's the limit!" exclaimed Corliss.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I guess it is, Billy.  Have a cigar?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss flung out of the office and tramped across to the saloon.  He
+called for whiskey and, seating himself at one of the tables, drank
+steadily.  Fadeaway wasn't such a fool, after all.  But robbery!  Was
+it robbery?  Eighteen hundred dollars would mean San Francisco&#8230;
+Corliss closed his eyes.  Out of the red mist of remembrance a girl's
+face appeared.  The heavy-lidded eyes and vivid lips smiled.  Then
+other faces, and the sound of music and laughter.  He nodded to them
+and raised his glass.&#8230;  As the raw whiskey touched his lips the
+red mist swirled away.  The dingy interior of the saloon, the booted
+and belted riders, the grimy floor littered with cigarette-ends, the
+hanging oil-lamp with its blackened chimney, flashed up and spread
+before him like the speeding film of a picture, stationary upon the
+screen of his vision, yet trembling toward a change of scene.  A blur
+appeared in the doorway.  In the nightmare of his intoxication he
+welcomed the change.  Why didn't some one say something or do
+something?  And the figure that had appeared, why should it pause and
+speak to one of the men at the bar, and not come at once to him.  They
+were laughing.  He grew silently furious.  Why should they laugh and
+talk and keep him waiting?  He knew who had come in.  Of course he
+knew!  Did Fadeaway think to hide himself behind the man at the bar?
+Then Fadeaway should not wear chaps with silver conchas that glittered
+and gleamed as he shifted his leg and turned his back.  "Said he was my
+friend," mumbled Corliss.  "My friend!  Huh!"  Was it a friend that
+would leave him sitting there, alone?
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He rose and lurched to the bar.  Some one steadied him as he swayed.
+He stiffened and struck the man in the face.  He felt himself jerked
+backward and the shock cleared his vision.  Opposite him two men held
+Fadeaway, whose mouth was bleeding.  The puncher was struggling to get
+at his gun.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss laughed.  "Got you that time, you thief!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He's crazy drunk," said one of the men.  "Don't get het up, Fade.  He
+ain't packin' a gun."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Fadeaway cursed and wiped the blood from his mouth.  He was playing his
+part well.  Accident had helped him.  To all intents and purposes they
+were open enemies.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Still, he was afraid Corliss would talk, so he laughed and extended his
+hand.  "Shake, Billy.  I guess you didn't know what you were doin'.  I
+was tryin' to keep you from fallin'."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss stared at the other with unwinking eyes.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Fadeaway laughed and turned toward the bar.  "Ought to hand him one,
+but he's all in now, I reckon.  That's what a fella gets for mixin' up
+with kids.  Set 'em up, Joe."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Left to himself Corliss stared about stupidly.  Then he started for the
+doorway.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+As he passed Fadeaway, the latter turned and seized his arm.  "Come on
+up and forget it, Billy.  You and me's friends, ain't we?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The cowboy, by sheer force of his personality, dominated the now
+repentant Corliss, whose stubbornness had given way to tearful
+retraction and reiterated apology.  Of course they were friends!
+</P>
+
+<P>
+They drank and Fadeaway noticed the other's increasing pallor.  "Jest
+about one more and he'll take a sleep," soliloquized the cowboy.  "In
+the mornin' 's when I ketch him, raw, sore, and ready for anything."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+One of the cowboys helped Corliss to his room at the Palace.  Later
+Fadeaway entered the hotel, asked for a room, and clumped upstairs.  He
+rose early and knocked at Corliss's door, then entered without waiting
+for a response.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He wakened Corliss, who sat up and stared at him stupidly.  "Mornin',
+Billy.  How's the head?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't know yet.  Got any cash, Fade?  I'm broke."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Sure.  What you want?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss made a gesture, at which the other laughed.  "All right,
+pardner.  I'll fan it for the medicine."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+When he returned to the room, Corliss was up and dressed.  Contrary to
+Fadeaway's expectations, the other was apparently himself, although a
+little too bright and active to be normal.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Guess I got noisy last night," said Corliss, glancing at Fadeaway's
+swollen lip.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Forget it!  Have some of this.  Then I got to fan it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Where are you going?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Me?  Over to the Blue.  Got a job waitin' for me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss's fingers worked nervously.  "When did you say the Concho paid
+off?" he queried, avoiding the other's eye.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Fadeaway's face expressed surprise.  "The Concho?  Why, next Monday.
+Why?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh&mdash;nothing.  I was just wondering&#8230;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Want to send any word to Jack?" asked the cowboy.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, I don't.  Thanks, just the same, Fade."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Sure!  Well, I guess I'll be goin'."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Wait a minute.  Don't be in a rush.  I was thinking&#8230;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Fadeaway strode to the window and stood looking out on the street.  His
+apparent indifference was effective.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Say, Fade, do you think we could&mdash;could get away with it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"With what?" exclaimed the cowboy, turning.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, you know!  What you said yesterday."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Guess I said a whole lot yesterday that I forgot this mornin'.  I get
+to joshin' when I'm drinkin' bug-juice.  What you gettin' at?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The money&mdash;at the Concho."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, that!  Why, Billy, I was jest stringin' you!  Supposin' somebody
+was to make a try for it; there's Chance like to be prowlin' around and
+the safe ain't standin' open nights.  Besides, Jack sleeps next to the
+office.  That was a josh."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, I could handle Chance," said Corliss.  "And I know the
+combination to the safe, if it hasn't been changed.  You said Jack was
+likely to be away nights, now."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Fadeaway shook his head.  "You're dreamin', Bill.  'Sides, I wouldn't
+touch a job like that for less'n five hundred."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Would you&mdash;for five hundred?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I dunno.  Depends on who I was ridin' with."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, I'll divvy up&mdash;give you five hundred if you'll come in on it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Again Fadeaway shook his head.  "It's too risky, Billy.  'Course you
+mean all right&mdash;but I reckon you ain't got nerve enough to put her
+through."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I haven't!" flashed Corliss.  "Try me!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And make a get-away," continued the cowboy.  "I wouldn't want to see
+you pinched."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'll take a chance, if you will," said Corliss, now assuming, as
+Fadeaway had intended, the rôle of leader in the proposed robbery.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How you expect to get clear&mdash;when they find it out?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I could get old man Soper to hide me out till I could get to Sagetown.
+He'll do anything for money.  I could be on the Limited before the news
+would get to Antelope."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And if you got pinched, first thing you'd sing out 'Fadeaway,' and
+then me for over the road, eh?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Honest, Fade.  I'll swear that I won't give you away, even if I get
+caught.  Here's my hand on it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Give me nine hundred and I'll go you," said Fadeaway, shaking hands
+with his companion.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss hesitated.  Was the risk worth but half the money involved?
+"Five's a whole lot, Fade."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, seein' you're goin' to do the gettin' at it, why, mebby I'd risk
+it for five hundred.  I dunno."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You said you'd stand by a pal, Fade.  Now's your chance."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"All right.  See here, Bill.  You cut out the booze all you can to-day.
+Foot it out to the Beaver Dam to-night and I'll have a hoss for you.
+We can ride up the old caņon trail.  Nobody takes her nowadays, so
+we'll be under cover till we hit the ford.  We can camp there back in
+the brush and tackle her next evenin'.  So-long."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Fadeaway was downstairs and out on the street before Corliss realized
+that he had committed himself to a desperate and dangerous undertaking.
+He recalled the expression in Fadeaway's eyes when they had shaken
+hands.  Unquestionably the cowboy meant business.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap09"></A>
+<H2 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER IX
+</H2>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+SUNDOWN'S FRIEND
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+Bud Shoop was illustrating, with quaint and humorous gestures and
+adjectives, one of his early experiences as Ranger on the Apache
+Reservation.  The men, grouped around the night-fire, smoked and helped
+the tale along with reminiscent suggestions and ejaculations of
+interest and curiosity.  In the midst of a vivid account of the
+juxtaposition of a telephone battery and a curious yet unsuspicious
+Apache, Shoop paused in the recital and gazed out across the mesa.
+"It's the boss," he said, getting to his feet.  "Wonder what's up?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss rode into camp, swung from the saddle, and called to Shoop.
+The men gazed at each other, nodded, and the words "Loring" and
+"sheep," punctuated their mutterings.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Shoop and Corliss talked together.  Then the foreman called to Hi
+Wingle, asking him how the "chuck" was holding out.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Runnin' short on flour and beans, Bud.  Figured on makin' the Concho
+to-morrow."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss and his foreman came to the fire.  "Boss says we're goin' to
+bush here the rest of this week," and Corliss nodded.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'm expecting company on the west side," explained Corliss,
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The men gazed at each other knowingly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"All right," said Wingle.  "Four sacks of flour and a sack of
+frijoles'll see us through.  Got enough other stuff."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Send some one in for it," ordered Corliss.  "I'm going to stay with
+the outfit, from now on."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The men cheered.  That was the kind of a boss to work for!  No settin'
+back and lettin' the men do the fightin'!  Some style to Jack Corliss!
+All of which was subtly expressed in their applause, although unspoken.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"To see that you boys don't get into mischief," continued Corliss,
+smiling.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Which means keepin' other folks out of mischief, eh, patron?" said a
+cow-puncher.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+At the word "patron" the men laughed.  "They're talkin' of turnin' this
+outfit into a sheep-camp," remarked another.  "Ba-a-ah!" And again they
+laughed.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Shoop motioned to Sundown who rose from beside the fire.  "You can
+saddle up, Sun."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sundown caught up his horse and stood waiting while one of the men
+saddled two pack-animals.  "Tony has the keys.  He'll pack the stuff
+for you," said Corliss.  "Keep jogging and you ought to be back here by
+sunup."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The assistant cook mounted and took the lead-rope of the pack-horses.
+He was not altogether pleased with the prospect of an all-night ride,
+but he knew that he had been chosen as the one whose services could
+most easily be dispensed with at the camp.  Silently he rode away, the
+empty kyacks clattering as the pack-horses trotted unwillingly behind
+him.  Too busy with the unaccustomed lead-rope to roll cigarettes, he
+whistled, and, in turn, recited verse to keep up his spirits.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+About midnight he discerned the outline of the low ranch-buildings and
+urged his horse to a faster gait.  As he passed a clump of cottonwoods,
+his horse snorted and shied.  Sundown reined him in and leaned peering
+ahead.  The pack-animals tugged back on the rope.  Finally he coaxed
+them past the cottonwoods and up to the gate.  It was open, an unusual
+circumstance which did not escape his notice.  He drifted through the
+shadows toward the corral, where he tied the horses.  Then he stepped
+to the bunk-house, found a lantern and lighted it.  He hallooed.  There
+was no response.  He stalked across to the ranch-house.  He found the
+door unlocked.  "Hi!  Tony!" he called.  No one answered.  He pushed
+the door open and entered.  Holding the lantern above his head he
+peered around the room.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+In the dim light of the lantern vague outlines took shape.  He noticed
+that the small safe in the corner was open.  He became alarmed and
+again called.  He heard a slight movement behind him and turned to see
+the door close.  From behind stepped a figure, a slender figure that
+seemed unreal, yet familiar.  With a cry of surprise he jumped back and
+stood facing his old friend and companion of the road, Will Corliss.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Billy!" he ejaculated, backing away and staring.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, it's Billy."  And Corliss extended his hand.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But&mdash;what, where&mdash;?"  Sundown hesitated and glanced at the safe.  His
+eyes widened and he lowered the lantern.  "Billy!" he said, ignoring
+the other's proffered hand, "what you doin' here?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss assumed a nonchalant air.  "Shake, pal!  It's a long time since
+we been in a wreck, eh?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sundown was silent, studying the other's hardened features.  "Billy!"
+he reiterated, "what you doin' here?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss laughed nervously.  "What are you doing here?" he
+retorted,&mdash;"in the office of the Concho, at midnight?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I was comin' to get flour and beans for the camp&mdash;" he began.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss interrupted him.  "Sounds good, that!  But they don't keep the
+grub here.  Guess you made a mistake."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sundown's face was expressionless.  "Guess you made the mistake, Billy.
+I thought you was&mdash;dead."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not on your tin-type, Sun."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I never thought you was crooked, Billy."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Crooked!" flashed Corliss.  "Say, you&mdash;you forget it.  I'm here to get
+what's coming to me.  Jack turned me down, so I'm going to take what's
+mine."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mebby it's yours, but you ain't gettin' it right," said Sundown.
+"I&mdash;I&mdash;never thought you was&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, cut that out!  You didn't used to be so dam' particular."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I never swiped a cent in me life, Billy."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, forget it.  I'm in a hurry.  You go ahead and get the chuck.
+Here are the keys to the store-room&mdash;and beat it.  Just forget that you
+saw me; that's all."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sundown shook his head.  "I ain't forgettin' that easy, Billy.  'Sides,
+I'm workin' for the Concho, now.  They're treatin' me fine&mdash;and I
+reckon I got to be square."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You mean you're going to squeal&mdash;going back on your old pal, eh?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sundown's face expressed conflicting emotions.  He straightened his
+lean shoulders.  "I tell you, Billy; if you beat it now, they won't be
+nothin' to squeal about."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'm going to."  And Corliss stepped toward the safe.  "Just hold that
+light this way a minute."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sundown complied, and Corliss thought that the other had overcome his
+scruples.  Corliss hastily drew a small canvas sack from the safe and
+stuffed it into his pocket.  Sundown backed toward the door.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss got to his feet.  "Well, so-long, Sun.  Guess I'll light out."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not with that," said Sundown.  "I ain't no preacher, but I ain't goin'
+to see you go straight to hell and me do nothin'.  Mebby some of that
+dough is yourn.  I dunno.  But somebody's goin' to get pinched for
+takin' it.  Bein' a Bo, it'll be me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"So that's what's worrying you, eh?  Scared you'll get sent over for
+this.  Well, you won't.  You haven't got anything on you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"'T ain't that, Billy.  It's you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss laughed.  "You're getting religion, too.  Well, I never thought
+you'd go back on me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I ain't.  I was always your friend, Billy."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss hesitated.  The door behind Sundown moved ever so little.
+Corliss's eyes held Sundown with unwinking gaze.  Slowly the door swung
+open.  Sundown felt rather than heard a presence behind him.  Before he
+could turn, something crashed down on his head.  The face of his old
+friend, intense, hard, desperate, was the last thing imaged upon his
+mind as the room swung round and he dropped limply to the floor.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Just in time," said Fadeaway, bending over the prostrate figure.  "Get
+a move, Bill.  I followed him from the cottonwoods and heard his talk.
+I was waitin' to get him when he come out, but I seen what he was up to
+and I fixed him."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss backed against the wall, trembling and white.  "Is he&mdash;did
+you&mdash;?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Fadeaway grinned.  "No, just chloroformed him.  Get a move, Bill.  No
+tellin' who'll come moseyin' along.  Got the stuff?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss nodded.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Fadeaway blew out the light.  "Come on, Bill.  She worked slick."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But&mdash;he knows me," said Corliss.  "He'll squeal."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And I reckon Jack'll believe him.  Why, it's easy, Bill.  They find
+the Bo on the job and the money gone.  Who did it?  Ask me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+At the cottonwoods they mounted.  "Now, you fan it for Soper's," said
+Fadeaway.  "I'll keep on for the Blue.  To-morrow evenin' I'll ride
+over and get my divvy."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss hesitated.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You better travel," said Fadeaway, reining his horse around.
+"So-long."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Chance, a prisoner in the stable, whined and gnawed at the rope with
+which Corliss had tied him.  The rope was hard-twisted and tough.
+Finally the last strand gave way.  The dog leaped through the doorway
+and ran sniffing around the enclosure.  He found Sundown's trail and
+followed it to the ranch-house.  At the threshold the dog stopped.  His
+neck bristled and he crooked one foreleg.  Slowly he stalked to the
+prone figure on the floor.  He sniffed at Sundown's hands and pawed at
+him.  Slowly Sundown's eyes opened.  He tried to rise and sank back
+groaning.  Chance frisked around him playfully coaxing.  Finally
+Sundown managed to sit up.  With pain-heavy eyes he gazed around the
+room.  Slowly he got to his feet and staggered to the doorway.  He
+leaned against the lintel and breathed deeply of the fresh morning air.
+The clear cold tang of the storm that had passed, lingered, giving a
+keen edge to the morning.  "We're sure in wrong," he muttered, gazing
+at Chance, who stood watching him with head cocked and eyes eager for
+something to happen&mdash;preferably action.  Sundown studied the dog dully.
+"Say, Chance," he said finally, "do you think you could take a little
+word to the camp?  I heard of dogs doin' such things.  Mebby you could.
+Somebody's got to do 'somethin' and I can't."  Painfully he stooped and
+pointed toward the south.  "Go tell the boss!" he commanded.  Chance
+whined.  "No, that way.  The camp!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Chance nosed across the yard toward the gate.  Then he stopped and
+looked back.  Sundown encouraged him by waving his arm toward the
+south.  "Go ahead, Chance.  The boss wants you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Chance trotted toward the cottonwood, nosed among them, and finally
+took Sundown's trail to the knoll.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sundown crept to the bunk-house, wondering what had become of the
+Mexican, Tony.  He determined to search for him, but became dizzy, and,
+crawling to a bunk, lay back groaning as the dull pain in his head
+leaped intermittently to blinding stabs of agony.  It seemed ages
+before he heard the quick staccato of hoofs on the road.  He raised
+himself on his elbow as Shoop and Corliss rode up on their
+mud-spattered and steaming ponies.  Sundown called as they dismounted
+at the corral.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss and Shoop stamped in, breathing hard.  "What's up?" questioned
+Corliss.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"They&mdash;they got the money," muttered Sundown, pointing toward the
+office.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Who?  See what's up, Bud."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Shoop swung out and across the enclosure.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss stooped over Sundown.  "What's wrong, Sun?  Why, Great God,
+you're hurt!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The rancher brought water and bathed Sundown's head.  "Who did it?" he
+questioned.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I dunno, boss.  I come and caught 'em at it.  Two of 'em, I guess.  I
+was tryin' to stop one fella from takin' it when the other slips me one
+on the head, and I takes a sleep.  I was lookin' for Tony in the
+office."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Where's Tony?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I dunno.  I was goin' to see&mdash;but&mdash;my head&#8230;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That's all right.  You take it easy as you can.  I'll find out."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+And Corliss left the room.  With Chance he explored the outbuildings
+and finally discovered the Mexican bound and gagged in the stable.  He
+released him, but could make nothing of his answers save that some one
+had come at night, tied his hands and feet, and carried him from the
+ranch-house.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss returned to Sundown.  In the bunkhouse he encountered Shoop.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"They robbed the safe," said Shoop, and he spoke with a strange
+quietness.  "Better come and take a look, Jack."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Didn't blow her," said Shoop, pointing toward the corner as they
+entered the office.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss knelt and examined the safe.  "The man that did it knew the
+combination," he said.  "There isn't a mark on the door."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He rose, and Shoop met his eye.  Corliss shook his head.  "I don't
+know," he said, as if in answer to a silent questioning.  Then he told
+Shoop to look for tracks.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The rain's fixed the tracks," said Shoop, turning in the doorway.
+"But it ain't drowned out my guess on this proposition."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, keep guessing, Bud, till I talk to Sundown."  And Corliss walked
+slowly to the bunkhouse.  He sat on the edge of the bunk and laid his
+hand on Sundown's sleeve.  "Look here, Sun, if you know anything about
+this, just tell me.  The money's gone and you didn't get that cut on
+the head trying to take it.  I guess you're straight, all right, but I
+think you know something."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sundown blinked and set his jaw.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss observed and wisely forbore to threaten or command.  "Did you
+recognize either of the men?" he asked, presently.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No!" lied Sundown.  "Wasn't I hit in the back of me head?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss smiled grimly.  "What were you doing when you got hit?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Tryin' to stop the other guy&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What did he look like?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I dunno.  Me lantern was on the floor.  He was a hefty guy, bigger 'n
+you.  Mebby six feet and pow'ful built.  Had whiskers so's I couldn't
+pipe his face.  Big puncher hat down over his eyes and a handkerchief
+tied like a mask.  I was scared of him, you bet!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss slowly drew a sack of tobacco and papers from his pocket.  He
+rolled a cigarette and puffed reflectively.  Then he laughed.  "I'm out
+about eighteen hundred.  That's the first thing.  Next, you're used up
+pretty bad and we're short-handed.  Then, we're losing time trying to
+track the thieves.  But I'm not riled up a little bit.  Don't think I'm
+mad at you.  I'm mighty glad you didn't get put out in this deal.
+That's where I stand.  I want to find out who took the money.  I don't
+say that I'll lift a rein to follow them.  Depends on who did it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sundown winced, and gazed up helplessly.  He felt oppressed by the
+broad-chested figure near him.  He felt that he could not get away
+from&mdash;what?  Not Corliss, for Corliss was undoubtedly friendly.  In a
+flash he saw that he could not get away from the truth.  Yet he
+determined to shield his old pal of the road.  "You're sure givin' me
+the third degree," he said with an attempt at humor.  "I reckon I got
+to come through.  Boss, are you believin' I didn't take the cash?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Sure I am!  But that isn't enough.  Are you working for the Concho,
+Sun, or for some other outfit?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The Concho," muttered Sundown stubbornly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And I'm the Concho.  You're working for me.  Listen.  I've got a yarn
+to spin.  The man that took the money&mdash;or one of them&mdash;was short, and
+slim, and clean-shaved, and he didn't wear a puncher hat.  You weren't
+scared of him because he was a coward.  You tried to get him to play
+square and he talked to you while the other man got you from behind.
+That's just a guess, but you furnished the meat for it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Me hands are up," said Sundown.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"All right.  I'm not going to get after Billy for this.  You lied to
+me, but you lied to save your pal.  Shake!"
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap10"></A>
+<H2 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER X
+</H2>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+THE STORM
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+Will Corliss, riding through the timberlands toward the west, shivered
+as a drop of rain touched his hand.  He glanced up through the trees.
+The sky seemed clouded to the level of the pine-tops.  He spurred his
+horse as he again felt a spatter of rain.  Before him lay several miles
+of rugged trail leading to an open stretch across which he would again
+enter the timber on the edge of the hollow where Soper's cabin was
+concealed.  When Corliss had suggested Soper's place as a rendezvous,
+Fadeaway had laughed to himself, knowing that old man Soper had been
+driven from the country by a committee of irate ranchers.  The illicit
+sale of whiskey to the cowboys of the Concho Valley had been the cause
+of Soper's hurried evacuation.  The cabin had been burned to the
+ground.  Fadeaway knew that without Soper's assistance Corliss would be
+unable to get to the railroad&mdash;would be obliged either to return to the
+Concho or starve on the empty mesas.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss bent his head as the rain drove faster.  When he arrived at the
+edge of the mesa, the storm had increased to a steady dull roar of
+rushing rain.  He hesitated to face the open and reined up beneath a
+spruce.  He was drenched and shivered.  The fever of drink had died out
+leaving him unstrung and strangely fearful of the night.  His horse
+stood with lowered head, its storm-blown mane whipping in the wind like
+a wet cloth.  A branch riven from a giant pine crashed down behind him.
+Corliss jerked upright in the saddle, and the horse, obeying the
+accidental touch of the spurs, plodded out to the mesa with head held
+sideways.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The rider's hands grew numb and he dropped the reins over the horn and
+shoved his hands in his pockets.  Unaccustomed to riding he grew weary
+and, despite the storm, he drowsed, to awaken with a start as gusts of
+wind swept against his face.  He raised his dripping hat and shook the
+water from it.  Then he crouched shivering in the saddle.  He cursed
+himself for a fool and longed for shelter and the warmth of a fire.
+Slowly a feeling of helplessness stole over him and he pictured himself
+returning to the Concho and asking forgiveness of his brother.  Yet he
+kept stubbornly on, glancing ahead from time to time until at last he
+saw the dim edge of the distant timber&mdash;a black line against the
+darkness.  He urged his horse to a trot, and was all but thrown as the
+animal suddenly avoided a prairie-dog hole.  The sweep of the storm was
+broken as he entered the farther timber.  Then came the muffled roll of
+thunder and an instant white flash.  The horse reared as a bolt struck
+a pine.  Came the ghastly whistle of flying splinters as the tree was
+shattered.  Corliss grabbed the saddle-horn as the horse bolted through
+the timberlands, working against the curb to reach the open.  Once more
+on the trail the animal quieted.  They topped a gentle rise.  Corliss
+breathed his relief.  Soper's cabin was in the hollow below them.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Cautiously the horse worked sideways down the ridge, slipping and
+checking short as the loose stones slithered beneath his feet.  At the
+bottom of the hollow Corliss reined up and shouted.  The wind whipped
+his call to a thin shred of sound that was swept away in the roar of
+the storm.  Again he shouted.  As though in answer there came a burning
+flash of blue.  The dripping trees surrounding the hollow jumped into
+view to be blotted from sight as the succeeding crash of thunder
+diminished to far titanic echoes.  Where Soper's cabin had stood there
+was a wet, glistening heap of fallen logs and rafters, charred and
+twisted.  The lightning flash had revealed more to the rider than the
+desolation of the burned and abandoned homestead.  He saw with instant
+vividness the wrecked framework of his own plans.  He heard the echo of
+Fadeaway's sneering laugh in the fury of the wind.  He told himself
+that he had been duped and that he deserved it.  Lacking physical
+strength to carry him through to a place of tentative safety, he gave
+up, and credited his sudden regret to true repentance rather than to
+weakness.  He would return to the Concho, knowing that his brother
+would forgive him.  He wept as he thought of his attitude of the
+repentant and broken son returning in sorrow to atone for his sin and
+shame.  He magnified his wrongdoing to heroic proportions endeavoring
+to filch some sentimental comfort from the romantic.  He it was that
+needed the sympathy of the world and not his brother John; John was a
+plodder, a clod, good enough, but incapable of emotion, or the finer
+feelings.  And Eleanor Loring&#8230; she could have saved him from all
+this.  He had begun well; had written acceptable verse&#8230; then had
+come her refusal to marry him.  What a fool he had been through it all!
+The wind and rain chastised his emotional intoxication, and he turned
+shivering to look for shelter.  Dismounting, he crept beneath a low
+spruce and shivered beneath the scant covering of his saddle-blanket.
+To-morrow the sun would shine on a new world.  He would arise and
+conquer his temptation.  As he drifted to troubled sleep he knew, deep
+in his heart, that despite his heroics he would at that moment have
+given the little canvas sack of his brother's money for the
+obliterating warmth of intoxication.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+With the morning sun he rose and saddled.  About to mount, his
+stiffened muscles blundered.  He slipped and fell.  The horse, keen
+with hunger, jumped away from him and trotted down the trail.  He
+followed shouting.  His strength gave out and he gave up the chase,
+wondering where the horse would go.  Stumbling along the slippery
+trail, he cursed his clumsiness.  A chill sweat gathered on his face.
+His legs trembled and he was forced to rest frequently.  Crossing a
+stream, he stooped and drank.  Then he toiled on, eagerly scanning the
+hoof-prints in the rain-gutted trail.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The sun was high when he arrived at the wagon-road above the Concho.
+Dazed and weak, he endeavored to determine which direction the horse
+had taken.  The heat of the sun oppressed him.  He became faint, and,
+crawling beneath the shade of a wayside fir, he rested, promising
+himself that he would, when the afternoon shadows drifted across the
+road, make his way to the Concho.  He had slept little more than an
+hour when the swift patter of hoofs wakened him.  As he got to his
+feet, a buckboard, drawn by a pair of pinto range-ponies, drew up.
+Corliss started back.  The Mexican driving the ponies turned toward the
+sweet-faced Spanish woman beside him as though questioning her
+pleasure.  She spoke in quick, low accents.  He cramped the wagon and
+she stepped to the road.  The Seņora Loring, albeit having knowledge of
+his recent return to Antelope, his drinking, and all the unsavory
+rumors connected with his return, greeted Corliss as a mother greets a
+wayward son.  She set all this knowledge aside and spoke to him with
+the placid wisdom of her years and nature.  Her gentle solicitude
+touched him.  She had been his foster-mother in those years that he and
+his brother had known no other fostering hand than that of old Hi
+Wingle, the cook, whose efforts to "raise" the Corliss boys were more
+largely faithful than discriminating.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Seņora Loring knew at a glance that he was in trouble of some kind.
+She asked no questions, but held out her hands.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss, blind with tears, dropped to his knee: "Madre!  Madre!" he
+cried.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She patted his head.  "You come with me.  Then perhaps you have to say
+to me that which now you do not say."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He shook his head, but she paid no attention, leading the way to the
+buckboard.  He climbed beside the driver, then with an ejaculation of
+apology, leaped to the road and helped her in.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Where you would like to go?" she asked.  "The Concho?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Again he shook his head.  "I can't.  I&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She questioned his hesitation with her eyes.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'll tell you when&mdash;when I feel better.  Madre, I'm sick."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I know," she said.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Then, turning to the driver, she gestured down the wagon-trail.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+They drove through the morning woodlands, swung to the east, and
+crossed the ford.  The clustered adobes of the Loring homestead
+glimmered in the sun.  Corliss glanced across the river toward the
+Concho.  Again the Seņora Loring questioned him with a glance.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He shook his head.  "Away&mdash;anywhere," he said, gesturing toward the
+horizon.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You come home with me," she said quietly.  "Nellie is not at the home
+to-day.  You rest, and then perhaps you go to the Concho."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+As they entered the gateway of the Loring rancho, Corliss made as
+though to dismount.  The Seņora Loring touched his arm.  He shrugged
+his shoulders; then gazed ahead at the peaceful habitation of the old
+sheep-herder.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The Seņora told the driver to tie the team and wait.  Then she entered
+the house.  Corliss gazed about the familiar room while she made
+coffee.  Half starved, he ate ravenously the meal she prepared for him.
+Later, when she came and sat opposite, her plump hands folded in her
+lap, her whole attitude restful and assuring, he told her of the
+robbery, concealing nothing save the name of Fadeaway.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Then he drew the canvas sack from his pocket.  "I thought I could go
+back and face it out, but now, I can't.  Will you&mdash;return it&mdash;and&mdash;tell
+John?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She nodded.  "Si!  If you wish it so, my son.  You would not do that as
+I would tell you&mdash;so I say nothing.  I can only&mdash;what you say&mdash;help,
+with my hands," and she gestured gracefully as though leading a child.
+"You have money to go away?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, madre."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then I give you the money."  And the Seņora, ignoring his half-hearted
+protests, stepped to an adjoining room and returned.  "Here is this to
+help you go.  Some day you come back strong and like your father the
+big John Corliss.  Then I shall be much glad."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'll pay it back.  I'll do anything&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+But she silenced him, touching his lips with her fingers.  "No.  The
+promise to make is not so hard, but to keep&#8230;  Ah!  When you come
+back, then you promise; si?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Not a word of reproof, not a glance or a look of disapproval, yet
+Corliss knew that the Seņora's heart was heavy with sorrow for him.  He
+strode to the doorway.  Seņora Loring followed and called to the
+driver.  As Corliss shook hands with her, she kissed him.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+An anger against himself flushed his cheek.  "I don't know which road
+I'll take, madre,&mdash;after I leave here,&mdash;this country.  But I shall
+always remember&#8230;  And tell Nell&#8230; that&#8230;" he hesitated.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The Seņora smiled and patted his arm.  "Si!  I understand."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And, madre, there is a man&mdash;vaquero, or cook, a big man, tall, that
+they call Sundown, who works for the Concho.  If you see him, please
+tell him&mdash;that I sent it back."  And he gestured toward the table
+whereon lay the little canvas sack of gold.  "Good-bye!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He stepped hurriedly from the veranda, climbed to the seat of the
+buckboard, and spoke to the driver.  For a long time the Seņora stood
+in the doorway watching the glint of the speeding ponies.  Then she
+went to her bedroom and knelt before the little crucifix.  Her prayer
+was, strangely enough, not for Will Corliss.  She prayed that the sweet
+Madonna would forgive her if she had done wrong.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap11"></A>
+<H2 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER XI
+</H2>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+CHANCE&mdash;CONQUEROR
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+Sundown's return to the camp occasioned some indirect questioning and
+not a little comment.  He told the story of his adventure at the Concho
+in detail up to the point of his conversation with Will Corliss.  Then
+he lapsed into generalities, exhibiting with some little pride the
+wound on his head as evidence of his attempt to prevent the robbery and
+incidentally as a reason for being unable to discourse further upon the
+subject.  His oft-repeated recital invariably concluded with, "I steps
+in and tries to stop the first guy when <I>Wham!</I> round goes the room and
+I takes a sleep."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The men seemed satisfied with Sundown's graphic account in the main.
+Hi Wingle, the cook, asked no questions, but did a great deal of
+thinking.  He was aware that Will Corliss had returned to the Concho,
+and also, through rumor, that Corliss and Fadeaway had been together in
+Antelope.  The fact that the robbers failed to get the money&mdash;so it was
+given out&mdash;left the drama unfinished, and as such it lacked sustained
+interest.  There would be no bandits to capture; no further excitement;
+so the talk eventually drifted to other subjects.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The assistant cook's evident melancholy finally gave place to a happier
+mood as he realized that he had gained a modicum of respect in a camp
+where hitherto he had been more or less of a joke.  While he grieved
+over the events which led up to his newly attained prestige as a man of
+nerve, he was not a little proud of the prestige itself, and
+principally because he lacked the very quality of courage that he was
+now accredited with.  Perhaps the fact that he had "played square," as
+he saw it, was the true foundation of his attitude.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He discharged his duties as assistant cook with a new and professional
+flourish that amused the riders.  When they rolled from their blankets
+in the crisp air of the morning, they were never kept waiting for their
+coffee, hot bread, and frijoles.  Moreover, he always had a small fire
+going, around which he arranged the tin plates, cups, knives and forks.
+This additional fire was acceptable, as the cooking was done on a large
+sheet-iron camp-stove, the immediate territory of which was sacred to
+Hi Wingle.  Wingle, who had been an old-timer when most of the Concho
+hands were learning the rudiments of the game, took himself and his
+present occupation seriously.  His stove was his altar, though burnt
+offerings were infrequent.  He guarded his culinary precincts with a
+watchful eye.  His attitude was somewhat akin to that of Cardinal
+Richelieu in the handkerchief scene, "Take but one step within these
+sacred bounds and on our head I'll lunch the cuss of Rum," or something
+to that effect.  He was short, ruddy, and bald, and his antithesis,
+Sundown, was a source of constant amazement to him.  Wingle had seen
+many tall men, but never such an elongated individual as his assistant.
+It became the habit of one or another of the boys to ask the cook the
+way to the distant Concho, usually after the evening meal, when they
+were loafing by the camp-fire.  Wingle would thereupon scratch his head
+and assume an air of intense concentration.  "Well," he would
+invariably remark, "you take the trail along Sundown's shadder there,
+and keep a-fannin' it smart for about three hours.  When you come to
+the end of the shadder, take the right fork of the river, and in
+another hour you'll strike the Concho.  That's the quickest way."  And
+this bit of attenuated humor never failed to produce an effect.
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P>
+One morning, about a week after Sundown's return to his duties as
+assistant, while Wingle was drying his hands, preparatory to reading a
+few pages of his favorite novel, Sundown ambled into camp with an
+armful of greasewood, dumped it near the wagon, and, straightening up,
+rolled a cigarette.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Wingle, immersed in the novel, read for a while and then glanced up
+questioningly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sundown shook his head.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Now this here story," said Wingle; "I read her forty-three times come
+next round-up, and blamed if I sabe her yet.  Now, take it where the
+perfesser&mdash;a slim gent with large round eye-glasses behind which
+twinkled a couple of deep-set studyus eyes&mdash;so the book says; now, take
+it where he talks about them Hopi graves over there in the valley&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"This here valley?" queried Sundown, immediately interested.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Sure!  Well, I can sabe all that.  I seen 'em."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Seen 'em?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Sure!  Why Arizona's got more leavin's of history and dead Injuns and
+such, right on top of the ground, than any other State in the Union.
+Why, right over there in the caņon of the Concho there's a hull ruined
+Injun village&mdash;stones piled up in little circles, and what was huts and
+caves and the leavin's of a old irrigatin' ditch and busted ollas, and
+bones and arrow-heads and picture-writin' on the rocks&mdash;bears and
+eagles and mounting-lions and hosses&mdash;scratched right on the rocks.
+Them cliffs there is covered with it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Them?" queried Sundown, pointing toward the caņon, "Do they charge
+anything to see it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, seein' they been dead about a thousand years, I reckon not."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"A thousand years!  Huh!  I ain't scared of no Injuns a thousand years
+old.  How far is it to them picture-things?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"'Bout three mile.  You can take a hoss and mosey over if you like.
+Figure on gettin' back 'round noon."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Any snakes over there?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Comf'table thick.  You might get a pretty good mess of 'em, if you was
+to take your time.  I never bother to look for 'em."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sundown gazed at his length of nether limb and sighed.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Snakes won't bother you none," said Wingle, reassuringly.  "They get
+tired, same as anybody, and they'd have to climb too fur to see if you
+was to home."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sundown rose and saddled a horse.  He mounted and rode slowly toward
+the rim of the distant caņon.  At the caņon's brink, he dismounted and
+led his horse down the trail, stopping frequently to gaze in wonderment
+at the painted cliffs and masses of red rock strewn along the slopes.
+High up on the perpendicular face of the caņon walls he saw many caves
+and wondered how they came to be there.  "Makes a fella feel like
+sayin' his prayers," he muttered.  "Wisht I knowed one."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He drifted on down the trail, which wound around huge fragments of rock
+riven from the cliffs in prehistoric days.  He was awed by the
+immensity of the chasm and talked continuously to his horse which
+shuffled along behind paying careful attention to the footing.  Arrived
+at the stream the horse drank.  Sundown mounted and rode along the
+narrow level paralleling the river course.  The caņon widened, and
+before he realized it he was in a narrow valley carpeted with
+bunch-grass and dotted with solitary cypress and infrequent clumps of
+pine.  He paused to inspect a small mound of rock which was partially
+surrounded by a wall of neatly laid stone.  Within the semicircular
+wall was a hole in the ground&mdash;the entrance to a cave.  Farther along
+he came upon the ruins of a walled square, unmistakably of human
+construction.  He became interested, and, tying his horse to a
+scrub-cedar, began to dig among the loose stones covering the interior
+of the square.  He discovered a fragment of painted pottery&mdash;the
+segment of an olla, smooth, dark red, and decorated with a design in
+black.  He rubbed the earth from the fragment and polished it on his
+overalls.  He unearthed a larger fragment and found that it matched the
+other piece.  He was happy.  He forgot his surroundings, and scratched
+and dug in the ruin until he accumulated quite a little pile of shards,
+oddly marked and colored.  Eventually he gathered up his spoils and
+tied them in his handkerchief.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Leaving his horse, he meandered down the valley until he came to
+another and larger cave.  "Wonder what's down there?" he soliloquized.
+"Mebby one of them Injuns.  Been there a thousand years waitin' for
+somethin' to turn up.  'Nough to make a fella tired, waitin' that
+long."  He wanted to explore the cave, but he was afraid.  Moreover,
+the interior was dark.  He pondered.  Finally his natural fondness for
+mild adventure overcame his fear.  "Got some matches!" he exclaimed,
+joyfully.  "Wonder if it's deep?  Guess I could put me legs in first,
+and if nothin' bites me legs, why, I could follow 'em down to bottom."
+He put his head in the hole.  "Hey!" he hallooed, "are you in there?"
+He rose to his feet.  "Nothin' doin'.  Well, here goes.  I sure want to
+see what's down there."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+In his excitement he overlooked the possibility of disturbing a torpid
+rattler.  He slid feet first into the cave, found that he could all but
+stand upright, and struck a match.
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P>
+The ancient Hopis buried their dead in a sitting posture on a woven
+grass mat, with an olla, and frequently a bone dagger, beside them.  In
+the clean, dry air of the uplands of Arizona the process of decay is
+slow.  Sundown, unaware of this, hardly anticipated that which
+confronted him as the match flamed blue and flared up, lighting the
+interior of the cave with instant brilliance.  About six feet from
+where he crouched was the dried and shriveled figure of a Hopi chief,
+propped against the wall of the cave.  Beside the figure stood the
+painted olla untarnished by age.  The dead Indian's head was bowed upon
+his breast, and his skeleton arms, parchment-skinned and rigid, were
+crossed upon his knees.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sundown scrambled for the circle of daylight above him.  "Gee Gosh!" he
+panted, as he got to his feet outside the cave.  "It was him!"  He
+clambered over the circle of stones and backed away, eyeing the
+entrance as though he expected to see the Hopi emerge at any moment.
+He crouched behind a boulder, his pulses racing.  He was keyed to a
+high tension of expectancy.  In fact, he was in a decidedly receptive
+mood for that which immediately happened.  He noticed that his horse, a
+hundred yards or so up the valley, was circling the cedar and pulling
+back on the reins.  He wondered what was the matter with him.  The
+horse was usually a well-behaved animal.  The explanation came rapidly.
+Sundown saw the horse back and tear loose from the cedar; saw him whirl
+and charge down the valley snorting.  "Guess he seen one, too!" said
+Sundown making no effort to check the frightened animal.  Almost
+immediately came the long-drawn bell of a dog following a hot scent.
+Sundown turned from watching his vanishing steed and saw a huge
+timber-wolf leap from a thicket.  Behind the wolf came Chance, neck
+outstretched, and flanks working at top speed.  The wolf dodged a
+boulder, flashing around it with no apparent loss of ground.  Chance
+rose over the boulder as though borne on the wind.  The wolf turned and
+snapped at him.  Sundown decided instantly that the sepulcher of the
+dead Hopi was preferable to the proximity of the live wolf, and he made
+for the cave.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The wolf circled the wall of stones and also made for the cave.
+Sundown had arrived a little ahead of him.  The top of Sundown's head
+appeared for an instant; then vanished.  The wolf backed snarling
+against the wall as Chance leaped in.  When Sundown's head again
+appeared, the whirling mass of writhing fur and kicking legs had taken
+more definite shape.  Chance had fastened on the wolf's shoulder.  The
+wolf was slashing effectively at the dog's side.  Presently they lay
+down facing each other.  Chance licked a long gash in his foreleg.  The
+wolf snapped as he lay and a red slaver dripped from his fangs.  Not
+twelve feet away, Sundown gazed upon the scene with fear-wide eyes.
+"Go to it, Chance!" he quavered, and his encouragement was all but the
+dog's undoing, for he lost the wolf's gaze for an instant, barely
+turning in time to meet the vicious charge.  Sundown groaned as the
+wolf, with a slashing stroke, ripped the dog's neck from ear to
+shoulder.  The stones in the enclosure were spattered with red as they
+whirled, each trying to reach the throat of the other.  Suddenly Chance
+leaped up and over the wolf, lunging for his neck as he descended.  The
+wolf rolled from under and backed toward the cave.  "Hey!" yelled
+Sundown.  "You can't come in here!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Chance, weakened from loss of blood, lay watching the wolf as it
+crouched tensely.  Again the great gray shadow lunged and a bright
+streak sprung up on the dog's side.  "Gee Gosh!" whined Sundown; "he
+can't stand much more of that!"  Undoubtedly Chance knew it, for he
+straight-way gathered himself and leaped in, diving low for the wolf's
+fore leg.  As the wolf turned his shoulder, Chance again sprang over
+him and, descending, caught him just behind the ear, and held.  The
+wolf writhed and snarled.  Chance gripped in and in, with each savage
+shake of his head biting deeper.  In a mighty effort to free himself
+the wolf surged backward, dragging Chance around the enclosure.
+Sundown, rising from the cave's mouth, crouched before it.  "You got
+him!  You got him!" he cried.  "Once more, now!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The body of the wolf quivered and sagged, then stiffened as if for a
+last effort.  Chance held.  They were both lying on the stones now.
+Chance with fore feet braced against the wolf's chest.  Presently the
+dog gave a final shake, drew back, and lay panting.  From head to
+flanks he was soaked with blood.  The wolf was dead.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sundown stood up.  "Good boy, Chance!" he said.  The great, gaunt body
+of the dog raised itself on trembling legs, the pride of the conqueror
+lighting for a moment his dimming eyes.  "It's me, Chance!" said
+Sundown, stroking the dog's head.  Chance wagged his tail and reaching
+up his torn and bleeding muzzle licked Sundown's hand.  Then slowly he
+sank to the ground, breathed heavily, and rolled to his side.  Sundown
+knelt over him and unaccustomed tears ran down his lean cheeks and
+dripped on the clotted fur.  "You was some fighter, Chance, ole pal!
+Gee Gosh!  He's nothin' except cuts and slashes all over.  Gee Gosh!"
+He drew the dog's head to his lap and sat crooning weird, broken words
+and stroking the torn ears.  Suddenly he stopped and put his hand over
+the dog's heart.  Then he leaped to his feet and, dumping the fragments
+of pottery from his bandanna, tore it in strips and began bandaging the
+wounds.  The gash on Chance's neck still bled.  Sundown drew his knife
+and cut the sleeve from his shirt.  He ripped it open and bound the
+dog's neck.  Realizing that Chance was not dead, he became valiant.
+"We sure put up the great scrap, didn't we, pal?  We licked him!  But
+if he'd 'a' licked you&#8230;"  And Sundown gazed at the still form of
+the wolf and shuddered, not knowing that the wolf would have fled at
+sight of him had he been able to get away from Chance.
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P>
+Two hours later, Eleanor Loring, riding along the caņon stream, met a
+lean giant, one sleeve of his shirt gone, his hat missing, and his
+hands splotched with blood.  His eyes were wild, his face white and
+set.  He carried a great, shaggy dog in his arms.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Are you hurt?" she asked, swinging from her pony and coming to him.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Me?  No, lady.  But me pal here is hurt bad.  Jest breathin'.  Killed
+a wolf back there.  Mebby I can save him."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why, it's Chance&mdash;of the Concho!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, lady.  What is left of him."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do you work for the Concho?  Won't you take my horse?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'm assistant cook at the camp.  No, thanks, lady.  Ridin' might
+joggle him and start him to bleedin'.  I can carry him so he'll be
+easier-like."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But how did it happen?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I dunno.  Chance chased the wolf and they went to it where I was
+explorin' one of them caves.  I guess I better be goin'."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The girl reined her horse around and rode down the valley trail,
+pausing occasionally to watch the tall figure climbing the caņon with
+that shapeless burden in his arms.  "I wonder if any other man on the
+Concho would have done that?" she asked herself.  And Sundown, despite
+his more or less terrifying appearance, won her estimation for kindness
+at once.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Slowly he climbed the caņon trail, resting at each level.  The dog hung
+a limp, dead weight in his arms.  Midway up the trail Sundown rested
+again, and gazed down into the valley.  He imagined he could discern
+the place of the fight.  "That there wolf," he soliloquized, "he was
+some fighter, too.  Mebby he didn't like to get licked any more than
+Chance, here.  Wonder what they was fightin' about?  I dunno.  But, Gee
+Gosh, she was one dandy scrap!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+At the top of the caņon wall he again rested.  He expected to be
+discharged for being late, but solaced himself with the thought that if
+he could save Chance, it was worth the risk.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The riders had returned to the chuck-wagon when Sundown arrived lugging
+the inert body of the wolf-dog.  They gathered around and asked brief
+questions.  Sundown, busy washing the dog's wounds, answered as well as
+he could.  His account of the fight did not suffer for lack of
+embellishment, and while he did not absolutely state that he had taken
+a hand in the fight, his story implied it.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Don't see nothin' on you to show you been in a scrap," remarked a
+young puncher.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That's because you can't see in deep enough," retorted Sundown.  "If I
+wasn't in every jump of that fight, me heart was."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Better shoot him and put him out of his sufferin'," suggested the
+puncher.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sundown rose from beside the dog.  Shoot Chance?  Not so long as he
+could keep between the dog and the cowboy's gun.  The puncher, half in
+jest, reached for his holster.  Sundown's overwrought nerves gave way.
+He dropped to his knees and lifted his long arms imploringly.  "Don't!
+Don't!" he wailed.  "He ain't dead!  Don't shoot my pal!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Bud Shoop, who had kept silent, shouldered the puncher aside.  "Cut it
+out, Sinker," he growled.  "Can't you sabe that Sundown means it?"
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P>
+Later in the evening, and fortified with a hearty meal.  Sundown gave a
+revised version of the fight, wherein his participation was modified,
+though the story lost nothing in re-telling.  And, indeed, his own
+achievement, of lugging Chance up the caņon trail, awakened a kind of
+respect among the easy-going cowboys.  To carry an eighty-pound dog up
+that trail took sand!  Again Sundown had unconsciously won their
+respect.  Nothing was said about his late return.  And his horse had
+found its way back to the camp.
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P>
+Sometime in the night, Bud Shoop was awakened by the man next him.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What's goin' on?" queried Shoop, rising on his elbow.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Ask me again," said the puncher.  "Listen!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+From the vicinity of the wagon came the gurgle of water and then a
+distinctly canine sneeze.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Dinged if he ain't fussin' with that dog again!" grumbled Shoop.  "The
+dam' fool!"  Which, as it is the spirit which giveth life to the
+letter, was not altogether uncomplimentary.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap12"></A>
+<H2 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER XII
+</H2>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+A GIFT
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+Warned by John Corliss of Loring's evident intent to graze his sheep on
+the west side of the Concho River, the cattle-men held a quiet meeting
+at the ranch of the Concho and voted unanimously to round up a month
+earlier than usual.  The market was at a fair level.  Beef was in
+demand.  Moreover, the round-up would, by the mere physical presence of
+the riders and the cattle, check for the time being any such move as
+Loring contemplated, as the camps would be at the ford.  Meanwhile the
+cattle-men again petitioned the Ranger at Antelope to stir up the
+service at Washington in regard to grazing allotments.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The round-up began.  The Concho outfit moved camp to the ford and
+Sundown had his first introduction to real work.  From morning till
+night and far into the night the fires were going.  Groups of belated
+riders swung in and made for the chuck-wagons.  Sundown, following a
+strenuous eighteen hours of uninterrupted toil, solemnly borrowed a
+piece of "tarp" from his outfit on which he lettered the legend:&mdash;
+</P>
+
+<P CLASS="noindent">
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"CAFE DE CONCHO&mdash;MEELS AT ALL<BR>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;HOURS&mdash;PRIVIT TABELS FOR LADYS"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He hung the tarp in a conspicuous place and retired to rest.  The
+following morning his efforts were applauded with much picturesque
+expletive, and even criticism was evoked by a lean puncher who insisted
+"that the tall guy might be a good cook all right, but he sure didn't
+know how to spell 'calf.'"  Naturally the puncher's erudition leaned
+toward cattle and the range.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+At all times conspicuous, for he topped by a head and shoulders the
+tallest rider on the range.  Sundown became doubly conspicuous as the
+story of his experience with the hold-ups and his rescue of Chance
+became known.  If he strutted, it was pardonable, for he strutted among
+men difficult to wrest approval from, and he had won their approval.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+At Hi Wingle's suggestion, he "packed a gun"&mdash;a formidable .45 lent him
+by that gracious individual, for it grieved the solid Wingle's soul to
+see so notable a character go unarmed.  Sundown, like many a wiser man,
+was not indifferent to the effect of clothing and equipment.  Obliged
+frequently to relate his midnight adventure with the robbers, he became
+a past-master in the art of dramatic expression.  "If I'd 'a' had me
+gun with me," he was wont to say, slapping the holster significantly,
+"the deal might 'a' turned out different.  I reckon it's luck I
+didn't."  Which may have been true enough, for Sundown would
+undoubtedly have been afraid to use the weapon and Fadeaway might have
+misunderstood his bungling.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+In his spare time he built a lean-to of odds and ends, and beneath it
+Chance drowsed away the long, sunny hours while Sundown was rustling
+firewood or holding hot argument with an obstreperous dutch-oven.  And
+Chance became the pet and the pride of the outfit.  Riders from distant
+ranches would stray over to the lean-to and look at him, commenting on
+his size and elaborating on the fact that it usually took two of the
+best dogs ever whelped to pull down a timber-wolf.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Even Fadeaway, now riding for the Blue, became enthusiastic and boasted
+of his former friendship with Chance.  When he essayed the intimacy of
+patting the dog's head, some of the onlookers doubted him, for Chance
+received these overtures with a deep-throated growl.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He won't let nobody touch him but that Sundown gent," cautioned a
+bystander.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Guess he's loco since he got chewed up," said Fadeaway, retreating.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Chance licked his wounds and recovered slowly.  He would lie in the
+sun, watching with unwinking gaze the camp and the cluster of men about
+it until the form of Sundown loomed through the mass.  Then he would
+beat the ground with his tail and whine expectantly.  As he became
+stronger, he ventured to stretch his wound-stiffened muscles in short
+pilgrimages to the camp, where the men welcomed him with hearty and
+profane zest.  Was he not the slayer of their enemy's sheep and the
+killer of the timber-wolf?  Eventually he was presented with a broad
+collar studded with brass spikes, and engraved upon it was the
+sanguinary and somewhat ambiguous legend: "Chance&mdash;The Killer of the
+Concho."
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P>
+John Corliss, visiting the round-up, rode over to Sundown's tepee, as
+it was called.  The assistant cook was greasing Chance's wounds.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How is he getting along?" asked Corliss.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Fine, boss, fine!  This here is some little ole red-cross ward,
+believe me!  He's gettin' over bein' lame and he eats regular."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Here, Chance!" called Corliss.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The dog rose stiffly and stalked to his master, smelt of him and wagged
+his tail, then stood with lowered head as though pondering some serious
+dog-logic.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He's kind of queer," explained Sundown, "but he's a whole pile better
+than he was a spell ago.  Had to bring him water and feed him like a
+baby cuttin' teeth&mdash;though I never seen one doin' that.  He wouldn't
+let nobody touch him 'ceptin' me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Is he able to travel?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, some."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Think he could make it to the Concho?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sundown hesitated.  "Mebby.  Yes, I reckon he could.  He can run all
+right, only I guess he kind of likes hangin' around me."  And Sundown
+glanced sideways at Corliss.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He seems all right.  I guess I'll take him back with me.  I don't like
+the idea of his running loose here."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He ain't bitin' nobody," assured Sundown.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss glanced shrewdly at the other's lean, questioning face.  "Guess
+you won't miss him much.  How are you making it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Me?  Fine!  Reckon I'll take out me papers for a full-chested range
+cook afore long.  You see the L.D. outfit says that I could have a job
+with them after the round-up.  It kind of leaked out about them pies.
+'Course they was joshin', mebby.  I dunno."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The L.D. boys are all right," said Corliss.  "If you want to make a
+change&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"See here, boss!  I done some ramblin' in my time.  Guess because I was
+lookin' for somethin' new and excitin'.  Well, I reckon they's plenty
+new and excitin' right to home on the Concho.  Any time I get tired of
+fallin' off hosses, and gettin' beat up, and mixin' up in dog and wolf
+fights, why, I can go to bustin' broncos to keep me from goin' to
+sleep.  Then Chance there, he needs lookin' after."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss seemingly ignored the gentle hint.  He mounted and called to
+the dog.  Chance made no movement to follow him.  Corliss frowned.
+"Here, Chance!" he commanded, slapping his thigh with his gauntleted
+hand.  The dog followed at the horse's heels as Corliss rode across the
+hard-packed circle around the camp.  Sundown's throat tightened.  His
+pal was gone.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He puttered about, straightening the blankets.  "Gee Gosh! but this
+here shack looks empty!  Never knowed sick folks could be so much
+comp'ny.  And Chance is folks, all right.  Talk about blue blood!  Huh!
+I reckon a thoroughbred dog is prouder than common folks, like me.
+Some king, he was!  Layin' there lookin' out at them punchers and his
+eyes sad-like and proud, and turnin' his head slow, watchin' 'em like
+they was workin' for him.  They's somethin' about class that gets a
+fella, even in a dog.  And most folks knows it, but won't let on."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He took Chance's drinking-basin&mdash;a bread-pan appropriated from the
+outfit&mdash;and the frayed saddle-blanket that had been the dog's bed, and
+carried them to the cottonwoods edging the river.  There he hid the
+things.  He returned to the lean-to and threw himself on his blankets.
+He felt as though he had just buried a friend.  A cowboy strolled up
+and squatted in front of the lean-to.  He gazed at the interior, nodded
+to Sundown, and rolled a cigarette.  He smoked for a while, glanced up
+at the sky, peered round the camp, and shrugged his shoulders.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sundown nodded.  "You said it all, Joe.  He's gone."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The cowboy blew rings of smoke, watching them spread and dissolve in
+the evening air.  "Had a hoss onct," he began slowly,&mdash;"ornery,
+glass-eyed, she-colt that got mixed up in a bob-wire fence.  Seein' as
+she was like to make the buzzards happy 'most any day, I took to
+nussin' her.  Me, Joe Scott, eh?  And a laugh comin'.  Well, the boys
+joshed&mdash;mebby you hearn some of 'em call me Doc.  That's why.  The boys
+joshed and went around like they was in a horsepital, quiet and
+steppin' catty.  I could write a book out of them joshin's and sell
+her, if I could write her with a brandin'-iron or a rope.  Anyhow, the
+colt she gets well and I turns her out on the range, which ought to be
+the end of the story, but it ain't.  She come nickerin' after me like I
+was her man, hangin' around when I showed up at the ranch jest like I
+was a millionaire and she wantin' to get married.  Couldn't get shet of
+her.  So one day I ropes her and says to myself I'll make a trick hoss
+of her and sell her.  The fust trick she done wasn't the one I reckoned
+to learn her.  She lifted me one in the jeans and I like to lost all
+the teeth in my head.  'You're welcome, lady,' says I, 'for this here
+'fectionate token of thanks for my nussin' and gettin' joshed to
+fare-ye-well.  Bein' set on learnin' her, I shortened the rope and let
+her kick a few holes in the climate.  When she got tired of that, I
+begins workin' on her head, easy-like and talkin' kind.  Fust thing I
+knowed she takes a san'wich out of my shirt, the meat part bein' a
+piece of my hide.  Then I got riled.  I lit into her with the boots,
+and we had it.  When I got tired of exercisin' my feet, she comes to me
+rubbin' her nose ag'in' me and kind of nickerin' and lovin' up
+tremendous, bein' a she-hoss.  'Now,' says I, 'I'm goin' to do the
+courtin', sister.'  And I sot out to learn her to shake hands.  She got
+most as good as a state senator at it: purfessional-like, but not real
+glad to see you.  Jest put on.  Then I learns her to nod yes.  That was
+hard.  Then I gets her so she would lay down and stay till I told her
+to get up.  'Course it takes time and I didn't have the time reg'lar.
+I feeds her every time, though.  Then she took to sleepin' ag'in' the
+bunk-house every night, seein' as she run loose jest like a dog.  When
+somebody'd get up in the mornin', there she would be with her eyes
+lookin' in the winder, shinin', and her ears lookin' in, too.  You see
+she was waitin' for her beau to come out, which was me.  She took to
+followin' me on the range when I rid out, and she got fat and sizable.
+The boys give up joshin' and got kind of interested.  But that ain't
+what I'm gettin' at.  Come one day, about two year after I'd been
+monkeyin' with learnin' her her lessons, when I thinks to break her to
+ride.  I got shet of the idea of sellin' her and was goin' to keep her
+myself.  The boys was lookin' for to see me get piled, always figurin'
+a pet hoss was worse to break than a bronc.  She did some fussin', but
+she never bucked&mdash;never pitched a move.  Thinks I, I sure got a winner.
+Next day she was gone.  Never seen her after that.  Trailed all over
+the range, but she sure vamoosed.  And nobody never seen her after
+that.  She sure made a dent in my feelin's."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sundown sat up blinking.  "I reckon that's the difference between a
+hoss and a dog," he said, slowly.  "Now, a hoss and me ain't what you'd
+call a nacheral combination.  And a hoss gets away and don't come back.
+But a dog comes back every time, if he can.  'Most any hoss will stay
+where the feedin' is good, but a dog won't.  He wants to be where his
+boss is."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And that there Chance is with the boss," said the cowboy, gesturing
+toward the north.  "Seen him foller him down the trail."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sundown nodded.  The cowboy departed, swaggering away in the dusk.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Just before Sundown was called to take his turn with the night-shift, a
+lean, brown shape tore through the camp, upsetting a pot of frijoles
+and otherwise disturbing the peace and order of the culinary department.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Coyote!" shouted Wingle, vainly reaching for the gun that he had given
+to Sundown.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Coyote nothin'!" said a puncher, laughing.  "It's the Killer come back
+hot-foot to find his pardner."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Chance bounded into the lean-to: it was empty.  He sniffed at the place
+where his bed had once been, found Sundown's tracks and followed them
+toward the river.  Sundown was on his knees pawing over something that
+looked very much like a torn and frayed saddle-blanket.  Chance
+volleyed into him, biting playfully at his sleeve, and whining.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sundown jumped to his feet.  He stood speechless.  Then a slow grin
+crept to his face.  "Gee Gosh!" he said, softly.  "Gee Gosh!  It's you!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Chance lay down panting.  He had come far and fast.  Sundown gathered
+up the blanket and pan, rose and marched to the shack.  "I was airin'
+'em out against your comin' back," he explained, untruthfully.  The
+fact was that he could not bear to see the empty bed in the lean-to and
+had hidden it in the bushes.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The dog watched him spread the blanket, but would not lie down.
+Instead he followed Sundown to the camp and found a place under the
+chuck-wagon, where he watched his lean companion work over the fires
+until midnight.  If Sundown disappeared for a minute in search of
+something.  Chance was up and at his heels.  Hi Wingle expressed
+himself profanely in regard to the return of the dog, adding with
+unction, "There's a pair of 'em; a pair of 'em."  Which ambiguity
+seemed to satisfy him immensely.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+When Sundown finally returned to the lean-to, he was too happy to
+sleep.  He built a small fire, rolled a cigarette and sat gazing into
+the flames.  Chance sat beside him, proud, dignified, contented.
+Sundown became drowsy and slept, his head fallen forward and his lean
+arms crossed upon his knees.  Chance waited patiently for him to waken.
+Finally the dog nuzzled Sundown's arm with little jerks of impatience.
+"What's bitin' you now?" mumbled Sundown.  "We're here, ain't we?"
+Nevertheless he slipped his arm around the dog's muscular shoulders and
+talked to him.  "How'd you get away?  The boss'll raise peelin's over
+this, Chance.  It ain't like to set good with him."  He noticed that
+Chance frequently scratched at his collar as though it irritated him.
+Finally he slipped his fingers under the collar.  "Suthin' got ketched
+in here," he said, unbuckling the strap.  Tied inside the collar was a
+folded piece of paper.  Sundown was about to throw it away when he
+reconsidered and unfolded it.  In the flickering light of the fire he
+spread the paper and read laboriously:&mdash;
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P CLASS="noindent">
+"Chance followed me to the Concho because I made him come.  He showed
+that he didn't want to stay.  I let him go.  If he gets back to you,
+keep him.  He is yours.
+</P>
+
+<P CLASS="noindent">
+"JOHN CORLISS."
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P>
+Sundown folded the note and carefully tucked it in his pocket.  He rose
+and slapped his chest grandiloquently.  "Chance, ole pal," he said with
+a brave gesture, "you're mine!  Got the dockyments to show.  What do
+you think?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Chance, with mouth open and lolling tongue, seemed to be laughing.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sundown reached out his long arm as one who greets a friend.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The dog extended his muscular fore leg and solemnly placed his paw in
+Sundown's hand.  No document was required to substantiate his
+allegiance to his new master, nor his new master's title to ownership.
+Despite genealogy, each was in his way a thoroughbred.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap13"></A>
+<H2 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER XIII
+</H2>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+SUNDOWN, VAQUERO
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+The strenuous days of the round-up were over.  Bands of riders departed
+for their distant ranches leaving a few of their number to ride line
+and incidentally to keep a vigilant eye On the sheep-camps.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+David Loring, realizing that he had been checkmated in the first move
+of the game in which cattle and sheep were the pawns and cowboys and
+herders the castles, knights, and, stretching the metaphor a bit,
+bishops, tacitly admitted defeat and employed a diagonal to draw the
+cattle-men's forces elsewhere.  He determined to locate on the
+abandoned water-hole ranch, homestead it, and, by so doing, cut off the
+supply of water necessary to the cattle on the west side of the Concho
+River.  This would be entering the enemy's territory with a vengeance,
+yet there was no law prohibiting his homesteading the ranch, the title
+of which had reverted to the Government.  Too shrewd to risk legal
+entanglement by placing one of his employees on the homestead, he
+decided to have his daughter file application, and nothing forbade her
+employing whom she chose to do the necessary work to prove up.  The
+plan appealed to the girl for various reasons, one of which was that
+she might, by her presence, avert the long-threatened war between the
+two factions.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sundown and, indirectly, Fadeaway precipitated the impending trouble.
+Fadeaway, riding for the Blue, was left with a companion to ride line
+on the mesas.  Sundown, although very much unlike Othello, found that
+his occupation was gone.  Assistant cooks were a drug on the range.  He
+was equipped with a better horse, a rope, quirt, slicker, and
+instructions to cover daily a strip of territory between the Concho and
+the sheep-camps.  He became in fact an itinerant patrol, his mere
+physical presence on the line being all that was required of him.
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P>
+It was the Seņora Loring who drove to the Concho one morning and was
+welcomed by Corliss to whom she gave the little sack of gold.  She told
+him all that he wished to know in regard to his brother Will, pleading
+for him with motherly gentleness.  Corliss assured her that he felt no
+anger toward his brother, but rather solicitude, and made her happy by
+his generous attitude toward the wrongdoer.  He had already heard that
+his brother had driven to Antelope and taken the train for the West.
+His great regret was that Will had not written to him or come to him
+directly, instead of leaving to the good Seņora the task of
+explanation.  "Never figured that repenting by proxy was the best
+plan," he told the Seņora.  "But he couldn't have chosen a better
+proxy."  At which she smiled, and in departing blessed him in her
+sincere and simple manner, assuring him in turn that should the sheep
+and cattle ever come to an understanding&mdash;the Spanish for which
+embraced the larger aspect of the problem&mdash;there was nothing she
+desired or prayed for more than the friendship and presence of Corliss
+at the Loring hacienda.  Corliss drew his own inference from this,
+which was a pleasant one.  He felt that he had a friend at court, yet
+explained humorously that sheep and cattle were not by nature fitted to
+occupy the same territory.  He was alive to sentiment, but more keen
+than ever to maintain his position unalterably so far as business was
+concerned.  The Seņora liked him none the less for this.  To her he was
+a man who stood straight, on both feet, and faced the sun.  Her
+daughter Nell&#8230;  Ah, the big Juan Corliss has such a fine way with
+him&#8230; what a husband for any woman!  In the mean time&#8230; only
+thoughts, hopes were possible&#8230; yet&#8230; maņana&#8230; maņana&#8230;
+there was always to-morrow that would be a brighter day.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+To say that Sundown was proud of his unaccustomed regalia from the
+crown of his lofty Stetson to the soles of his high-heeled
+riding-boots, would be putting it mildly.  To say that he was
+especially useful in his new calling as vaquero would not be to put it
+so mildly.  Under the more or less profane tutelage of his companions,
+he learned to throw a rope after a fashion, taking the laughing sallies
+of his comrades good-naturedly.  He persevered.  He was forever
+stealing upon some maternal and unsuspicious cow and launching his rope
+at her with a wild shout&mdash;possibly as an anticipatory expression of
+fear in case his rope should fall true.  More than once he had been
+yanked bodily from the saddle and had arisen to find himself minus
+rope, cow, and pony, for no self-respecting cow-horse could watch
+Sundown's unprecedented evolutions and not depart thitherward, feeling
+ashamed and grieved to think that he had ever lived to be a horse.  And
+Sundown, despite his length of limb, seemed unbreakable.  "He's the
+most durable rider on the range," remarked Hi Wingle, incident to one
+of his late assistant's meteoric departures from the saddle.  "He wears
+good."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+One morning as Sundown was jogging along, engaged chiefly in watching
+his shadow bob up and down across the wavering bunch-grass, he saw that
+which appeared to be the back of a cow just over a rise.  He walked his
+horse to the rise and for some fantastic reason decided to rope the
+cow.  He swung his rope.  It fell true&mdash;in fact, too true, for it
+encircled the animal's neck and looped tight just where the neck joins
+the shoulders.  He took a turn of the rope around the saddle horn.  At
+last he had mastered the knack of the thing!  Why, it was as easy as
+rolling pie-crust!  He was about to wonder what he was going to do
+next, when the cow&mdash;which happened to be a large and active
+steer&mdash;humped itself and departed for realms unknown.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+With the perversity of inanimate objects the rope flipped in a loop
+around Sundown's foot.  The horse bucked, just once, and Sundown was
+launched on a new and promising career.  The ground shot beneath him.
+He clutched wildly at the bunch-grass, secured some, and took it along
+with him.  Chance, who always accompanied Sundown, raced alongside,
+enjoying the novelty of the thing.  He barked and then shot ahead,
+nipping at the steer's heels, and this did not add to his master's
+prospects of ultimate survival.  Sundown shouted for help when he
+could, which was not often.  Startled prairie-dogs disappeared in their
+holes as the mad trio shot past.  The steer, becoming warmed up to his
+work, paid little attention to direction and much to speed.  That a
+band of sheep were grazing ahead made no difference to the charging
+steer.  He plunged into the band.  Sundown dimly saw a sea of sheep
+surge around him and break in storm-tossed waves of wool on either
+side.  He heard some one shout.  Then he fainted.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+When he again beheld the sun, a girl was kneeling beside him, a girl
+with dark, troubled eyes.  She offered him wine from a wicker jug.  He
+drank and felt better.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Are you hurt badly?" she asked.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Am&mdash;I&mdash;all here?" queried Sundown.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I guess so.  You seem to be."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Was anybody else killed in the wreck?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The girl smiled.  "You're feeling better.  Let me help you to sit up."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sundown for the moment felt disinclined to move.  He was in fact pretty
+thoroughly used up.  "Say, did he win?" he queried finally.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Who?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Me dog, Chance.  I got the start at first, but he kind of got ahead
+for a spell."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't know.  Chance is right behind you.  He's out of breath."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Huh!  Reckon I'm out more'n that.  He's in luck this trip."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How did it happen?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That's what I'm wonderin', lady.  And say, would you be so kind as to
+tell me which way is north?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Despite her solicitude for the recumbent Sundown, Eleanor Loring
+laughed.  "You are in one of the sheep-camps.  I'm Eleanor Loring."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Sheep-camp?  Gee Gosh!  Did you stop me?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes.  I was just riding into camp when you&mdash;er&mdash;arrived.  I headed the
+steer back and Fernando cut the rope."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Thanks, miss.  And Fernando is wise to his business, all right."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Can you sit up now?" she asked.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Ow!  I guess I can.  That part of me wasn't expectin' to be moved
+sudden-like.  How'd I get under these trees?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Fernando carried you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, little old Fernando is some carrier.  Where is he?  I wouldn't
+mind shakin' hands with that gent."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He's out after the sheep.  The steer stampeded them."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, miss, speakin' from me heart&mdash;that there steer was no lady.  I
+thought she was till I roped him.  I was mistook serious."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He might have killed you.  Let me help you up."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sundown had been endeavoring to get to his feet.  Finally he rose and
+leaned against a tree.  Fortunately for him his course had been over a
+stretch of yielding bunch-grass, and not, as might have been the case,
+over the ragged tufa.  As it was his shirt hung from his back in
+shreds, and he felt that his overalls were not all that their name
+implied.  The numbness of his abrasions and bruises was wearing off.
+The pain quickened his senses.  He realized that his hat was missing,
+that one spur was gone and the other was half-way up his leg.  He was
+not pleased with his appearance, and determined to "make a slope" as
+gracefully and as quickly as circumstances would permit.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Chance, gnawing at a burr that had stuck between his toes, saw his
+master rise.  He leaped toward Sundown and stood waiting for more fun.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Chance seems all right now," said the girl, patting the dog's head.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"John Corliss give him to me, miss.  He's my dog now.  Yes, he's active
+all right, 'specially chasin' steers."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I remember you.  You're the man that carried Chance up the caņon trail
+that day when he was hurt."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, miss.  He ain't forgettin' either."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The girl studied Sundown's lean face as he gazed across the mesas,
+wondering how he was going to make his exit without calling undue
+attention to his dearth of raiment.  She had heard that this man, this
+queer, ungainly outlander, had been companion to Will Corliss.  She had
+also heard that Sundown had been injured when the robbery occurred.
+Pensively she drew her empty gauntlet through her fingers.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do you know who took the money&mdash;that night?" she asked suddenly, and
+Sundown straightened and gazed at her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He blinked and coughed.  "Bein' no hand to lie to a lady, I do," he
+said, simply.  "But I can't tell, even if you did save me life from
+that there steer."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She bit her lips, and nodded.  "I didn't really mean to ask.  I was
+curious to know.  Won't you take my horse?  You can send him back
+to-morrow."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And you beat it home afoot?  Say, lady, I mebby been a Bo onct, but I
+ain't hurt that bad.  If I can't find me trail back to where I started
+from, it won't be because it ain't there.  Thanks, jest the same."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sundown essayed a step, halted and groaned.  He felt of himself
+gingerly.  He did not seem to be injured in any special place, as he
+ached equally all over.  "I'll be goin', lady.  I say thanks for savin'
+me life."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The girl smiled and nodded.  "Will you please tell Mr. Corliss that I
+should like to see him, to-morrow, at Fernando's camp?  I think he'll
+understand."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Sure, miss!  I'll tell him.  That Fernando man looks to be havin' some
+trouble with them sheep."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The girl glanced toward the mesa.  Fernando and his assistant were
+herding the sheep closer, and despite their activity were really
+getting the frightened animals bunched well.  When she turned again
+Sundown had disappeared.
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P>
+Sundown's arrival in camp, on foot, was not altogether unexpected.  One
+of the men had seen a riderless horse grazing on the mesa, and had
+ridden out and caught it.  Circumstantial evidence&mdash;rider and rope
+missing&mdash;confirmed Hi Wingle's remark that "that there walkin'
+clothes-pin has probably roped somethin' at last."  And the "walking
+clothes-pin's" condition when he appeared seemed to substantiate the
+cook's theory.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Lose your rope?" queried Wingle as Sundown limped up.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Uhuh.  And that ain't all.  You ain't got a pair of pants that ain't
+working have you?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Wingle smiled.  "Pants?  Think this here's a Jew clothin'-store?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Nope.  But if she was a horsepital now&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Been visitin'?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Uhuh.  I jest run over to see some friends of mine in a sheep-camp."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Did, eh?  And mebby you can tell me what you run over?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"'Most everything out there," said Sundown, pointing to the mesa.
+"Say, you ain't got any of that plaster like they put on a guy's head
+when he gets hit with a brick?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Nope.  But I got salt."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And pepper," concluded Sundown with some sarcasm.  "Mebby I do look
+like a barbecue."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Straight, Sun, salt and water is mighty healin'.  You better ride over
+to the Concho and get fixed up."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Reckon that ain't no dream, Hi.  Got to see the boss, anyhow."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, 'anyhow' is correc'.  And, say, you want to see him first and
+tell him it's you.  Your hoss is tied over there.  Sinker fetched him
+in."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Hoss?  Oh, yes, hoss!  My hoss!  Uhuh!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+With this somewhat ambiguous string of ejaculations Sundown limped
+toward the pony.  He turned when halfway there and called to Wingle.
+"The cattle business is fine, Hi, fine, but between you and me I reckon
+I'll invest in sheep.  A fella is like to live longer."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Wingle stared gravely at the tall and tattered figure.  He stared
+gravely, but inwardly he shook with laughter.  "Say, Sun!" he managed
+to exclaim finally, "that there Nell Loring is a right fine gal, ain't
+she?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You bet!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And Jack ain't the worst&#8230;"  Wingle spat and chewed ruminatively.
+"No, he ain't the worst," he asserted again.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I dunno what that's got to do with gettin' drug sixteen mile," said
+Sundown.  "But, anyhow, you're right."
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap14"></A>
+<H2 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER XIV
+</H2>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+ON THE TRAIL TO THE BLUE
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+In the shade of the forest that edged the mesa, and just back of
+Fernando's camp, a Ranger trail cuts through a patch of quaking-asp and
+meanders through the heavy-timbered land toward the Blue range, a
+spruce-clad ridge of southern hills.  Close to the trail two saddle
+horses were tied.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Fadeaway, riding toward his home ranch on the "Blue," reined up, eyed
+the horses, and grinned.  One of them was Chinook, the other Eleanor
+Loring's black-and-white pinto, Challenge.  The cowboy bent in his
+saddle and peered through the aspens toward the sheep-camp.  He saw
+Corliss and Nell Loring standing close together, evidently discussing
+something of more than usual import, for at that moment John Corliss
+had raised his broad Stetson as though bidding farewell to the girl,
+but she had caught his arm as he turned and was clinging to him.  Her
+attitude was that of one supplicating, coaxing, imploring.  Fadeaway,
+with a vicious twist to his mouth, spat.  "The cattle business and the
+sheep business looks like they was goin' into partnership," he
+muttered.  "Leave it to a woman to fool a man every time.  And him
+pertendin' to be all for the long-horns!"  He saw the girl turn from
+Corliss, bury her face in her arms, and lean against the tree beneath
+which they were standing.  Fadeaway grinned.  "Women are all crooked,
+when they want to be," he remarked,&mdash;"or any I ever knowed.  If they
+can't work a guy by talkin' and lovin', then they take to cryin'."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Just then Corliss stepped to the girl and put his hand on her shoulder.
+Again she turned to him.  He took her hands and held them while he
+talked.  Fadeaway could see her lips move, evidently in reply.  He
+could not hear what was being said, as his horse was restless, fretting
+and stamping.  The saddle creaked.  Fadeaway jerked the horse up, and
+in the momentary silence he caught the word "love."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Makes me sick!" he said, spurring forward.  "'Love,' eh?  Well, mebby
+my little idea of puttin' Billy Corliss in wrong didn't work, but I'll
+hand Jack a jolt that'll make him think of somethin' else besides love,
+one of these fine mornin's!"  And the cowboy rode on, out of tune with
+the peace and beauty of his surroundings, his whole being centered upon
+making trouble for a man who he knew in his heart wished him no ill,
+and in fact had all but forgotten him so far as considering him either
+as an enemy or a friend.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Just as he was about to swing out to the open of the mesa near the edge
+of the caņon, he came upon a Mexican boy asleep beneath the low
+branches of a spruce.  Fadeaway glanced across the mesa and, as he had
+expected, saw a band of sheep grazing in the sunshine.  His trail ran
+directly toward the sheep.  Beyond lay the caņon.  He would not ride
+around a herd of sheep that blocked his trail, not if he knew it!  As
+he drew nearer the sheep they bunched, forcing those ahead to move on.
+Fadeaway glanced back at the sleeping boy, then set spur to his horse
+and waved his sombrero.  The sheep broke into a trot.  He rode back and
+forth behind them forcing them toward the caņon.  He beat upon his
+rolled slicker with his quirt.  The sound frenzied the sheep and they
+leaped forward.  Lambs, trailing behind, called dolefully to the
+plunging ewes that trampled each other in their terror.  Again the
+cowboy glanced back.  No one was in sight.  He wondered, for an
+instant, what had become of Fernando, for he knew it was Fernando's
+herd.  He shortened rein and spurred his pony, making him rear.  The
+sheep plunged ahead, those in front swerving as they came to the
+caņon's brink.  The crowding mass behind forced them on.  Fadeaway
+reined up.  A great gray wave rolled over the cliff and disappeared
+into the soundless chasm.  A thousand feet below lay the mangled
+carcasses of some five hundred sheep and lambs.  A scattered few of the
+band had turned and were trotting aimlessly along the edge of the mesa.
+They separated as the rider swept up.  One terror-stricken lamb,
+bleating piteously, hesitated on the very edge of the chasm.  Fadeaway
+swung his hat and laughed as the little creature reared and leaped out
+into space.  There had been but little noise&mdash;an occasional frightened
+bleat, a drumming of hoofs on the mesa, and they were swept from sight.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Fadeaway reined around and took a direct line for the nearest timber.
+Halfway across the open he saw the Mexican boy running toward him.  He
+leaned forward in the saddle and hung his spurs in his pony's sides.  A
+quick beat of hoofs and he was within the shadow of the forest.  The
+next thing was to avoid pursuit.  He changed his course and rode toward
+the heart of the forest.  He would take an old and untraveled
+bridle-trail to the Blue.  He was riding in a rocky hollow when he
+thought he heard the creak of saddle-leather.  He glanced back.  No one
+was following him.  Farther on he stopped.  He was certain that he had
+again heard the sound.  As he topped the rise he saw Corliss riding
+toward him.  The rancher had evidently swung from the Concho trail and
+was making his way directly toward the unused trail which Fadeaway
+rode.  The cowboy became doubly alert.  He shifted a little in the
+saddle, sitting straight, his right hand resting easily on his hip.
+Corliss drew rein and they faced each other.  There was something about
+the rancher's grim, silent attitude that warned Fadeaway.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Yet he grinned and waved a greeting.  "How!" he said, as though he were
+meeting an old friend.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss nodded briefly.  He sat gazing at Fadeaway with an unreadable
+expression.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Got the lock-jaw?" queried Fadeaway, his pretended heartiness
+vanishing.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss allowed himself to smile, a very little.  "You better ride back
+with me," he said, quietly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Fadeaway laughed.  "I'm takin' orders from the Blue, these days," he
+said.  "Mebby you forgot."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, I haven't."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And I'm headed for the Blue," continued the cowboy.  "Goin' my way?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You're on the wrong trail," asserted Corliss.  "You've been riding the
+wrong trail ever since you left the Concho."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Uhuh.  Well, I been keepin' clear of the sheep camps, at that."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Don't know about that," said Corliss, easily.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Fadeaway was too shrewd to have recourse to his gun.  He knew that
+Corliss was the quicker man, and he realized that, even should he get
+the better of a six-gun argument, the ultimate result would be outlawry
+and perhaps death.  He wanted to get away from that steady,
+heart-searching gaze that held him.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Sheep business is lookin' up," he said, with an attempt at jocularity.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We'll ride back and have a talk with Loring," said Corliss.  "Some one
+put a band of his sheep into the caņon, not two hours ago.  Maybe you
+know something about it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Me?  What you dreaming anyhow?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'm not.  It looks like your work."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"So you're tryin' to hang somethin' onto me, eh?  Well, you want to
+call around early&mdash;you're late."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, I'm the first one on the job.  Did you stampede Loring's sheep?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Did I stampede the love-makin'?" sneered Fadeaway.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss shortened rein and drew close to the cowboy.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Just explain that," he said.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, I don' know.  You the boss of creation?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss's lips hardened.  He let his quirt slip butt-first through his
+hand and grasped the lash.  Fadeaway's hand slipped to his holster.
+Before he could pull his gun, Corliss swung the quirt.  The blow caught
+Fadeaway just below the brim of his hat.  He wavered and grabbed at the
+saddle-horn.  As Corliss again swung his quirt, the cowboy jerked out
+his gun and brought it down on the rancher's head.  Corliss dropped
+from the saddle.  Fadeaway rode around and covered him.  Corliss's hat
+lay a few feet from where he had fallen.  Beneath his head a dark ooze
+spread a hand's-breadth on the trail.  The cowboy dismounted and bent
+over him.  "He's sportin' a dam' good hat," he said, "or that would 'a'
+fixed <I>him</I>.  Guess he'll be good for a spell."  Then he reached for
+his stirrup, mounted, and loped up the trail.
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P>
+Old Fernando, having excused himself on some pretext when Corliss rode
+into the camp that morning, returned to find Corliss gone and Nell
+Loring strangely grave and white.  She nodded as he spoke to her and
+pointed toward the mesa.  "Carlos&mdash;is out&mdash;looking for the sheep," she
+said, her lips trembling.  "He says some one stampeded them&mdash;run them
+into the caņon."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Fernando called upon his saints and cursed himself for his negligence
+in leaving his son with the sheep.  Nell Loring spoke to him quietly,
+assuring him that she understood why he had absented himself.  "It's my
+fault, Fernando, not yours.  The patron will want to know why you were
+away.  You will tell him that John Corliss came to your camp; that you
+thought I wanted to talk with him alone.  Then he will know that it was
+my fault.  I'll tell him when I get back to the rancho."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Fernando straightened his wizened frame.  "Si!  As the Seņorita says, I
+shall do.  But first I go to look.  Perhaps the patron shall not know
+that the vaquero Corlees was here this morning.  It is that I ask the
+Seņorita to say nothing to the patron until I look.  Is it that you
+will do this?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What can you do?" she asked.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is yet to know.  Adios, Seņorita.  You will remember the old
+Fernando, perhaps?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But you're coming back!  Oh! it was terrible!" she cried.  "I rode to
+the caņon and looked down."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Fernando meanwhile had been thinking rapidly.  With quaint dignity he
+excused himself as he departed to catch up one of the burros, which he
+saddled and rode out to where his son was standing near the caņon.  The
+boy shrank from him as he accosted him.  Fernando's deep-set eyes
+blazed forth the anger that his lips imprisoned.  He sent the boy back
+to the camp.  Then he picked up the tracks of a horseman on the mesa,
+followed them to the caņon's brink, glanced down, shrugged his
+shoulders, and again took up the horseman's trail toward the forest.
+With the true instinct of the outlander, he reasoned that the horseman
+had headed for the old trail to the Blue, as the tracks led diagonally
+toward the south.  Finally he realized that he could never overtake the
+rider by following the tracks, so he dismounted and tied his burro.  He
+struck toward the caņon.  A mile above him there was a ford.  He would
+wait there and see who came.  He made his perilous way down a notch in
+the cliff, dropped slowly to the level of the stream, and followed it
+to the ford.  He searched for tracks in the sun-baked mud.  With a sigh
+of satisfaction, perhaps of anticipation, he stepped to a clump of
+cottonwoods down the stream and backed within them.  Scarcely had he
+crossed himself and drawn his gun from its weather-blackened holster,
+when he heard the click of shod hoofs on the trail.  He stiffened and
+his eyes gleamed as though he anticipated some pleasant prospect.  The
+creases at the corners of his eyes deepened as he recognized in the
+rider the vaquero who had set the Concho dog upon his sheep some months
+before.  He had a score to settle with that vaquero for having shot at
+him.  He had another and larger score to settle with him for&mdash;no, he
+would not think of his beloved sheep mangled and dead at the bottom of
+the caņon.  That would anger him and make his hand unsteady.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Fadeaway rode his horse into the ford and sat looking downstream as the
+horse drank.  Just as he drew rein, the old herder imitated with
+perfect intonation the quavering bleat of a lamb calling to its mother.
+Fadeaway jerked straight in the saddle.  A ball of smoke puffed from
+the cottonwoods.  The cowboy doubled up and slid headforemost into the
+stream.  The horse, startled by the lunge of its rider, leaped to the
+bank and raced up the trail.  A diminishing echo ran along the caņon
+walls and rolled away to distant, faint muttering.  Old Fernando had
+paid his debt of vengeance.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Leisurely he broke a twig from the cottonwoods, tore a strip from his
+bandanna, and cleaned his gun.  Then he retraced his steps to the
+burro, mounted, and rode directly to his camp.  After he had eaten he
+told his son to pack their few belongings.  Then he again mounted the
+burro and rode toward the hacienda to face the fury of the patron.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He had for a moment left the flock in charge of his son.  He had
+returned to find all but a few of the sheep gone.  He had tracked them
+to the caņon brink.  Ah! could the patron have seen them, lying mangled
+upon the rocks!  It had been a long hard climb to the bottom of the
+caņon, else he should have reported sooner.  Some one had driven the
+sheep into the chasm.  As to the man who did it, he knew nothing.
+There were tracks of a horse&mdash;that was all.  He had come to report and
+receive his dismissal.  Never again should he see the Seņora Loring.
+He had been the patron's faithful servant for many years.  He was
+disgraced, and would be dismissed for negligence.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+So he soliloquized as he rode, yet he was not altogether unhappy.  He
+had avenged insult and the killing of his beloved sheep with one little
+crook of his finger; a thing that his patron, brave as he was, would
+not dare do.  He would return to New Mexico.  It was well!
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap15"></A>
+<H2 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER XV
+</H2>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+THEY KILLED THE BOSS!
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+Sundown, much to his dismay, was lost.  With a sack of salt tied across
+his saddle, he had ridden out that morning to fill one of the salt-logs
+near a spring where the cattle came to drink.  He had found the log,
+filled it, and had turned to retrace his journey when a flock of wild
+turkeys strung out across his course.  His horse, from which the riders
+of the Concho had aforetime shot turkeys, broke into a kind of
+reminiscent lope, which quickened as the turkeys wheeled and ran
+swiftly through the timberland.  Sundown clung to the saddle-horn as
+the pony took fallen logs at top speed.  The turkeys made for a rim of
+a narrow caņon and from it sailed off into space, leaving Chance a
+disconsolate spectator and Sundown sitting his horse and thanking the
+Arizona stars that his steed was not equipped with wings.  It was then
+that he realized that the Concho ranch might be in any one of the four
+directions he chose to take.  He wheeled the horse, slackened rein, and
+allowed that sagacious but apparently disinterested animal to pick its
+leisurely way through the forest.  Chance trotted sullenly behind.  He
+could have told his master something about hunting turkeys had he been
+able to speak, and, judging from the dog's dejected stride and
+expression, speech would have been a relief to his feelings.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The horse, nipping at scant shoots of bunch-grass and the blue-flowered
+patches of wild peas, gravitated toward the old trail to the Blue and,
+once upon it, turned toward home.  Chance, refreshing his memory of the
+old trail, ran ahead, pausing at this fallen log and that
+fungus-spotted stump to investigate squirrel-holes with much sniffing
+and circling of the immediate territory.  Sundown imagined that Chance
+was leading the way toward home, though in reality the dog was merely
+killing time, so to speak, while the pony plodded deliberately down the
+homeward trail.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dawdling along in the barred sunshine, at peace with himself and the
+pleasant solitudes, Sundown relaxed and fell to dreaming of Andalusian
+castles builded in far forests of the south, and of some Spanish
+Penelope&mdash;possibly not unlike the Seņorita Loring&mdash;who waited his
+coming with patient tears and rare fidelity.  "Them there
+true-be-doors," he muttered, "like Billy used to say, sure had the glad
+job&mdash;singin' and wrastlin' out po'try galore!  A singin'-man sure gets
+the ladies.  Now if I was to take on a little weight&mdash;mebby&#8230;"  His
+weird soliloquy was broken by a sharp and excited bark.  Chance was
+standing in the trail, and beyond him there was something&#8230;
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sundown, anticipating more turkeys, slid from his horse without delay.
+He stalked stealthily toward the quivering dog.  Then, dropping the
+reins, he ran to Corliss, knelt beside him, and lifted his head.  He
+called to him.  He ripped the rancher's shirt open and felt over his
+heart.  "They killed me boss!  They killed me boss!" he wailed, rising
+and striding back and forth in impotent excitement and grief.  He did
+not know where to look for water.  He did not know what to do.  A
+sudden fury at his helplessness overcame him, and he mounted and rode
+down the trail at a wild gallop.  Fortunately he was headed in the
+right direction.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Wingle, Bud Shoop, and several of the men were holding a heated
+conference with old man Loring when Sundown dashed into the Concho.
+Trembling with rage and fear he leaped from his horse.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"They killed the boss!" he cried hoarsely.  "Up there&mdash;in the woods."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Killed who?  Where?  Slow down and talk easy!  Who's killed?" volleyed
+the group.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Me boss!  Up there on the trail with his head bashed in!  Chance and
+me found him layin' on the trail."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The men swung to their saddles.  "Better come along, Loring," said
+Shoop, riding close to the old sheep-man.  "Looks like they was more 'n
+one side to this deal.  And you, too, Sun."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The riders, led by the gesticulating and excited Sundown, swung out to
+the road and crossed to the forest.  Shoop and Hi Wingle spurred ahead
+while the others questioned Sundown, following easily.  When they
+arrived at the scene of the fight, Corliss was sitting propped against
+a tree with Shoop and Wangle on either side of him.  Corliss stared
+stupidly at the men.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Who done it?" asked Wingle.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Fadeaway," murmured the rancher.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Loring, in the rear of the group, laughed ironically.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Shoop's gun jumped from its holster and covered the sheep-man.  "If one
+of your lousy herders done this, he'll graze clost to hell to-night
+with the rest of your dam' sheep!" he cried.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Easy, Bud!" cautioned Wingle.  "The boss ain't passed over yet.  Bill,
+you help Sinker here get the boss back home.  The rest of you boys hit
+the trail for the Blue.  Fadeaway is like to be up in that country."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Ante up, Loring!" said Shoop, mounting his horse.  "I'll see your hand
+if it takes every chip in the stack."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Here, too!" chorused the riders.  "We're all in on this."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+They trailed along in single file until they came to the ford.  They
+reined up sharply.  One of them dismounted and dragged the body of
+Fadeaway to the bank.  They grouped around gazing at the hole in
+Fadeaway's shirt.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Shoop turned the body over.  "Got it from in front," he said, which was
+obvious to their experienced eyes.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And it took a fast gun to get him," asserted Loring.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The men were silent, each visualizing his own theory of the fight on
+the trail and the killing of Fadeaway.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Jack was layin' a long way from here," said Wingle.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"When you found him," commented Loring.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Only one hoss crossed the ford this morning," announced Shoop, wading
+across the stream.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And Fade got it from in front," commented a puncher.  "His tracks is
+headed for the Blue."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Again the men were silent.  Shoop rolled a cigarette.  The splutter of
+the sulphur-match, as it burned from blue to yellow, startled them.
+They relaxed, cursing off their nervous tension in monosyllables.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, Fade's played his stack, and lost.  Jack was sure in the game,
+but how far&mdash;I dunno.  Reckon that's got anything to do with stampedin'
+your sheep?" asked Wingle, turning to Loring.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Loring's deep-set eyes flashed.  "Fernando reported that a Concho rider
+done the job.  He didn't say who done it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Didn't, eh?  And did Fernando say anything about doin' a job himself?"
+asked Shoop.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If you're tryin' to hang this onto any of my herders, you're ridin' on
+the wrong side of the river.  I reckon you won't have to look far for
+the gun that got <I>him</I>."  And Loring gestured toward the body.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Hi Wingle stooped and pulled Fadeaway's gun from its holster.  He spun
+the cylinder, swung it out, and invited general inspection.  "Fade
+never had a chance," he said, lowering the gun.  "They's six pills in
+her yet.  You got to show me he wasn't plugged from behind a rock or
+them bushes."  And Wingle pointed toward the cottonwoods.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+One of the men rode down the caņon, searching for tracks.  Chance,
+following, circled the bushes, and suddenly set off toward the north.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sundown, who had been watching him, dismounted his horse.  "Chance,
+there, mebby he's found somethin'."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, he's your dog.  Go ahead if you like.  Mebby Chance struck a
+scent."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Coyote or lion," said Wingle.  "They ain't no trail down them rocks."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sundown, following Chance, disappeared in the caņon.  The men covered
+Fadeaway's body with a slicker and weighted it with stones.  Then they
+sent a puncher to Antelope to notify the sheriff.
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P>
+As they rode into the Concho, they saw that Corliss's horse was in the
+corral.  Their first anger had cooled, yet they gazed sullenly at
+Loring.  They were dissatisfied with his interpretation of the killing
+and not a little puzzled.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Where's Fernando?" queried Shoop aggressively.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Loring put the question aside with a wave of his hand.  "Jest a minute
+afore I go.  You're tryin' to hang this onto me or mine.  You're wrong.
+You're forgettin' they's five hundred of my sheep at the bottom of the
+Concho Caņon, I guess.  They didn't get there by themselves.
+Fadeaway's got his, which was comin' to him this long time.  That's
+nothin' to me.  What I want to see is Jack Corliss's gun."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Bud Shoop stepped into the ranch-house and presently returned with the
+Coitus.  "Here she is.  Take a look."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The old sheep-man swung out the cylinder and pointed with a gnarled and
+horny finger.  The men closed in and gazed in silence.  One of the
+shells was empty.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Loring handed the gun to Shoop.  "I'll ask Jack," said the foreman.
+When he returned to the group he was unusually grave.  "Says he plugged
+a coyote this mornin'."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Loring's seamed and weathered face was expressionless.  "Well, he did a
+good job, if I do say it," he remarked, as though to himself.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Which?" queried Shoop.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't say," replied Loring.  "I'm lettin' the evidence do the
+talkin'."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, you'll hear her holler before we get through!" asserted the
+irrepressible Bud.  "Fade, mebby, wa'n't no lady's man, but he had
+sand.  He was a puncher from the ground up, and we ain't forgettin'
+that!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And I ain't forgettin' them five hundred sheep."  Loring reined
+around.  "And you're goin' to hear from me right soon.  I reckon they's
+law in this country."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Let her come!" retorted Shoop.  "We'll all be here!"
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap16"></A>
+<H2 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER XVI
+</H2>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+SUNDOWN ADVENTURES
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+By dint of perilous scrambling Sundown managed to keep within sight of
+Chance, who had picked up Fernando's tracks leading from the
+cottonwoods.  The dog leaped over rocks and trotted along the levels,
+sniffing until he came to the rift in the caņon wall down which the
+herder had toiled on his grewsome errand.  Chance climbed the sharp
+ascent with clawing reaches of his powerful forelegs and quick thrusts
+of his muscular haunches.  Sundown followed as best he could.  He was
+keyed to the strenuous task by that spurious by-product of anticipation
+frequently termed a "hunch."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+When the dog at last reached the edge of the timber and dashed into
+Fernando's deserted camp, Sundown was puzzled until he happened to
+recall the incidents leading to Fadeaway's discharge from the Concho.
+He reclined beneath a tree familiar to him as a former basis for
+recuperation.  He felt of himself reminiscently while watching Chance
+nose about the camp.  Presently the dog came and, squatting on his
+haunches, faced his master with the query, "What next?" scintillating
+in his glowing eyes.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I dunno," replied Sundown.  "You see, pardner, this here's Fernando's
+camp all right.  Now, I ain't got nothin' ag'in' that little ole
+Fernando man, 'specially as it was him cut the rope that was snakin' me
+to glory onct.  I ain't got nothin' ag'in' him, or nobody.  Mebby Fade
+did set after them sheep.  Mebby Fernando knows it and sets after him.
+Mebby he squats in them cotton-woods by the ford and 'Pom!' goes
+somethin' and pore Fadeaway sure makes his name good.  Never did like
+him, but I ain't got nothin' ag'in' him now.  You see, Chance, he's
+quit bein' mean, now.  And say, gettin' killed ain't no dream.  I been
+there three, four times myself&mdash;all but the singin'.  Two wrecks, one
+shootin', and one can o' beans that was sick.  It sure ain't no fun.
+Wonder if gettin' killed that way will square Fade with the Big Boss
+over there?  I reckon not.  'T ain't what a fella gets done to him that
+counts.  It's what he does to the other guy, good or bad.  Now, take
+them martyrs what my pal Billy used to talk about.  They was always
+standin' 'round gettin' burned and punctured with arrers, and
+lengthened out and shortened up when they ought to been takin' boxin'
+lessons or sords or somethin'.  Huh!  I never took much stock in them.
+If it's what a fella gets <I>done</I> to him, it's easy money I'll be takin'
+tickets at the gate instead of crawlin' under the canvas&mdash;and mebby
+tryin' to sneak you in, too&mdash;eh, Chance?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+To all of which the great wolf-dog listened with exemplary patience.
+He would have preferred action, but not unlike many human beings who
+strive to appear profound under a broadside of philosophical eloquence,
+applauding each bursting shrapnel of platitudes by mentally wagging
+their tails, Chance wagged his tail, impressed more by the detonation
+than the substance.  And Chance was quite a superior dog, as dogs go.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+When Sundown finally arrived at the Concho, he was met by Bud Shoop,
+who questioned him.  Sundown gave a detailed account of his recent
+exploration.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You say they was no burros at the camp&mdash;no tarp, or grub, or nothin'?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Nope.  Nothin' but a dead fire," replied Sundown.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Any sheep?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mebby four or five.  Didn't count 'em."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Huh!  Wonder where the rest of the greaser's herd is grazin'?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I dunno.  I rode straight acrost to here."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Looks mighty queer to me," commented the foreman.  "I take it that
+Fernando's lit out."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Will they pinch the boss?" queried Sundown.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don' know.  Anyhow, they can't prove it on him.  Even if Jack
+did&mdash;and I don't mind sayin' it to you&mdash;plug Fade, he did it to keep
+from gettin' plugged hisself.  Do you reckon I'd let any fella
+chloroform me with the butt of a .45 and not turn loose?  I tell you,
+if Jack had been a-goin' to get Fade <I>right</I>, you'd 'a' found 'em
+closter together.  And that ain't all.  If Jack had wanted to get Fade,
+you can bet he wouldn't got walloped on the head first.  The gun that
+got Fade weren't packed by a puncher."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Will they be any more shootin'?" queried Sundown.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Gettin' cold feet, Sun?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Nope.  But say, it ain't no fun to get shot up.  It don't feel good
+and it's like to make a guy cross.  A guy can't make pie or eat pie all
+shot up, nohow."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Pie?  You sure are loco.  What you tryin' to rope now?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Nothin'.  But onct I was in the repair shop with two docs explorin' me
+works with them there shiny little corkscrews, lookin' for a bullit
+that Clammie-the-dip let into me system&mdash;me bein' mistook for another
+friend of his by mistake.  After the docs dug up the bullit they says,
+'Anything you want to say?'&mdash;expectin' me to pass over, I reckon.
+'There is,' says I.  'I want to say that I ain't et nothin' sense the
+day before Clammie done me dirt.  An' if I'm goin' to hit the slide I
+jest as soon hit it full of pie as empty.'  And them docs commenced to
+laugh.  'Let him have it,' says one.  'But don't you reckon ice-cream
+would be less apt to&mdash;er&mdash;hasten&mdash;the&mdash;er&mdash;' jest like that.  'Pussuble
+you're correct' says the other.'"  Sundown scratched his ear.  "And I
+et the ice-cream, feelin' kind o' sad-like seein' it wasn't pie.  You
+see, Bud, gettin' shot up is kind of disconvenient."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, you're the limit!" exclaimed Shoop.  "Say, the boss wants to
+make a few talks to you to-morrow.  Told me to tell you when you come
+back.  You better go feed up.  As I recollec' Hi's wrastlin' out some
+pie-dough right now."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, I ain't takin' no chances, Bud."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You tell that to Hi and see what he says."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Nope.  'T ain't necessary.  You see when them docs seen, about a week
+after, that I was comin' strong instead of goin', they says, 'Me man,
+if you'd 'a' had pie in your stummick when you was shot, you wouldn't
+be here to-day.  You'd be planted&mdash;or somethin' similar.  The fac' that
+your stummick was empty evidentially saved your life.'  And," concluded
+Sundown, "they's no use temptin' Providence now."
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P>
+Shortly after breakfast next morning Corliss sent for Sundown.  The
+rancher sat propped up in a wide armchair.  He was pale, but his eyes
+were clear and steady.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Bud told me about yesterday," he began, anticipating Sundown's
+leisurely and erratic recital.  "I understand you found me on the trail
+and went for help."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes.  I thought you was needin' some about then."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How did you come to find me?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Got lost.  Hoss he took me there."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Did you see any one on the trail?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Nope."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Hear any shooting?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Nope.  But I seen some turkeys."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, I expect the sheriff will be here tomorrow.  He'll want to talk
+to you.  Answer him straight.  Don't try to help me in any way.  Just
+tell him what you know&mdash;not what you think."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I sure will, boss.  Wish Chance could talk.  He could tell."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss smiled faintly.  "Yes, I suppose he could.  You followed him to
+Fernando's camp?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Uhuh."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"All right.  Now, I've had a talk with Bud about something that has
+been bothering me.  I think I can trust you.  I want you to ride to
+Antelope to-morrow morning and give a letter from me to the lawyer
+there, Kennedy.  He'll tell you what to do after that.  I don't feel
+like talking much, but I'll say this: You remember the water-hole
+ranch.  Well, I want you to file application to homestead it.  Kennedy
+will tell you what to do.  Don't ask any questions, but do as he says.
+You'll have to go to Usher by train and he'll go with you.  You won't
+lose anything by it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Me?  Homestead?  Huh!  And have cows and pigs and things?  I don't
+jest get you, boss, but what you say goes.  Why, I'd homestead a ranch
+in hell and take chances on findin' water if you said it.  Say,
+boss,"&mdash;and Sundown leaned toward Corliss confidentially and lowered
+his voice,&mdash;"I ain't what you'd call a nervy man, but say, I got
+somethin' jest as good.  I&mdash;I&mdash;" and Sundown staggered around feeling
+for the word he wanted.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I know.  We'll look it up in the dictionary some day when we're in
+town.  Here's ten dollars for your trip.  If you need more, Kennedy
+will give it to you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sundown departed, thrilled with the thought that his employer had
+placed so much confidence in him.  He wanted to write a poem, but
+circumstances forbade his signaling to his muse.  On his way to the
+bunk-house he hesitated and retraced his steps to the ranch office.
+Corliss told him to come in.  He approached his employer deferentially
+as though about to ask a favor.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Say, boss," he began, "they's two things just hit me to onct.  Can I
+take Chance with me?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If you like.  Part of your trip will be on the train."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I can fix that.  Then I was thinkin': No! my hoss is lame.  I got to
+ride a strange hoss, which I'm gettin' kind o' used to.  But if you'll
+keep your eye on my hoss while I'm gone, it'll ease me mind
+considerable.  You see he's been with me reg'lar and ain't learned no
+bad tricks.  If the boys know I'm gone and get to learnin' him about
+buckin' and bitin' the arm offen a guy and kickin' a guy's head off and
+rollin' on him, and rarin' up and stompin' him, like some, they's no
+tellin' what might happen when I get back."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss laughed outright.  "That's so.  But I guess the boys will be
+busy enough without monkeying with your cayuse.  If you put that
+homestead deal through, you can have any horse on the range except
+Chinook.  You'll need a team, anyway, when you go to ranching."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Thanks, boss, but I'm gettin' kind of used to Pill."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Pill?  You mean Phil&mdash;Phil Sheridan.  That's your horse's name."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mebby.  I did try callin' him 'Phil.'  It went all right when he was
+standin' quiet.  But when he got to goin' I was lucky if I could holler
+just 'Whoa, Pill!'  The 'h' got jarred loose every time.  'Course,
+bein' a puncher now,"&mdash;and Sundown threw out his chest,&mdash;"it's
+different.  Anyhow, Pill is his name because there ain't anything a doc
+ever give a fella that can stir up your insides worse 'n he can when he
+takes a spell.  Your head hurtin' much?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No.  But it will be if you don't get out of here."  And Corliss
+laughed and waved his hand toward the door.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap17"></A>
+<H2 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER XVII
+</H2>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+THE STRANGER
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+Sundown, maintaining a mysterious and unusual silence, prepared to
+carry out his employer's plans.  His preparations were not extensive.
+First, he polished his silver spurs.  Then he borrowed a coat from one
+of the boys, brushed his Stetson, and with the business instinct of a
+Hebrew offered Hi Wingle nine dollars for a pair of Texas wing chaps.
+The cook, whose active riding-days were over, had no use for the chaps
+and would have gladly given them to Sundown.  The latter's offer of
+nine dollars, however, interested Wingle.  He decided to have a bit of
+fun with the tall one.  He cared nothing for the money, but wondered
+why Sundown had offered nine dollars instead of ten.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What you been eatin'?" he queried as Sundown made his bid.  "Goin'
+courtin'?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Nope," replied the lean one.  "Goin' east."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Huh!  Expect to ride all the way in them chaps?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Nope!  But I need 'em.  Heard you tell Bud you paid ten dollars for
+'em 'way back fifteen years.  Guess they's a dollar's worth worn off of
+'em by now."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, you sure do some close figurin'.  I sure paid ten for 'em.  Got
+'em from a Chola puncher what was hard up.  Mebby you ain't figurin'
+that they's about twenty bucks' worth of hand-worked silver conchas on
+'em which ain't wore off any."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sundown took this as Wingle's final word.  The amused Hi noted the
+other's disappointment and determined to enhance the value of the chaps
+by making them difficult to obtain, then give them to his assistant.
+Wingle liked Sundown in a rough-shod way, though Sundown was a bit too
+serious-minded to appreciate the fact.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The cook assumed the air of one gravely concerned about his friend's
+mental balance.  "Somethin' sure crawled into your roost, Sun, but if
+you're goin' crazy I suppose a pair of chaps won't make no difference
+either way.  Anyhow, you ain't crazy in your legs&mdash;just your head."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Thanks, Hi.  It's accommodatin' of you to put me wise to myself.  I
+know I ain't so durned smart as some."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Say, you old fool, can't you take a fall to it that I'm joshin'?  You
+sure are the melancholiest stretch of bones and hide I ever seen.
+Somehow you always make a fella come down to cases every time, with
+that sad-lookin' mug of yourn.  You sure would 'a' made a good
+undertaker.  I'll get them chaps."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+And Wingle, fat, bald, and deliberate, chuckled as he dug among his
+belongings and brought forth the coveted riding apparel.  "Them chaps
+has set on some good hosses, if I do say it," he remarked.  "Take 'em
+and keep your nine bucks for life insurance.  You'll need it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sundown grinned like a boy.  "Nope.  A bargain's a bargain.  Here's the
+money.  Mebby you could buy a fust-class cook-book with it and learn
+somethin'."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Learn somethin'!  Why, you long-geared, double-jointed, glass-eyed,
+hay-topped, star-smellin' st-st-steeple, you!  Get out o' this afore I
+break my neck tryin' to see your face!  Set down so I can look you in
+the eye!"  And Wingle waved his stout arms and glowered in mock anger.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sundown laid the money on the table.  "Keep the change," he said mildly
+with a twinkle in his eye.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He picked up the chaps and stalked from the bunk-house.  Chance, who
+had been an interested spectator of this lively exchange of compliment
+and merchandise, followed his master to the stable where Sundown at
+once put on the chaps and strutted for the dog's benefit, and his own.
+By degrees he was assuming the characteristics of a genuine
+cow-puncher.  He would show the folks in Antelope what a rider for the
+Concho looked like.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The following morning, much earlier than necessary, he mounted and rode
+to the bunk-house, where Corliss gave him the letter and told him to
+leave the horse at the stables in Antelope until he returned from Usher.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sundown, stiffened by the importance of his mission, rode straight up,
+looking neither to the right nor to the left until the Concho was far
+behind him.  Then he slouched in the saddle, gazing with a pleased
+expression first at one leather-clad leg and then the other.  For a
+time the wide, free glory of the Arizona morning mesas was forgotten.
+The shadow of his pony walked beside him as the low eastern sun burned
+across the golden levels.  Long silhouettes of fantastic buttes spread
+across the plain.  The sky was cloudless and the crisp thin air
+foretold a hot noon.  The gaunt rider's face beamed with an inner
+light&mdash;the light of romance.  What more could a man ask than a good
+horse, a faithful and intelligent dog, a mission of trust, and sixty
+undisturbed miles of wondrous upland o'er which to journey, fancy-free
+and clad in cowboy garb?  Nothing more&mdash;except&mdash;and Sundown realized
+with a slight sensation of emptiness that he had forgotten to eat
+breakfast.  He had plenty to eat in his saddle-bags, but he put the
+temptation to refresh himself aside as unworthy, for the nonce, of his
+higher self.  Naturally the pent-up flood of verse that had been
+oppressing him of late surged up and filled his mind with vague and
+poignant fancies.  His love for animals, despite his headlong
+experiences on the Concho, was unimpaired, so to speak.  He patted the
+neck of the rangy roan which he bestrode, and settled himself to the
+serious task of expressing his inner-most being in verse.  He dipped
+deep into the Pierian springs, and poesy broke forth.  But not,
+however, until he had "cinched up," as he mentally termed it, the
+saddle of his Pegasus of the mesas.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sundown paused and called the attention of his horse to the last line.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He hesitated, harking back for his climax.  "Jing!" he exclaimed, "it's
+the durndest thing to put a finish on a piece of po'try!  You get to
+goin' and she goes fine.  Then you commence to feel that you're comin'
+to the end and nacherally you asks yourself what's the end goin' to be
+like.  Fust thing you're stompin' around in your head upsettin' all
+that you writ tryin' to rope somethin' to put on the tail-end of the
+parade that'll show up strong.  Kind o' like ropin' a steer.  No
+tellin' where that pome is goin' to land you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sundown was more than pleased with himself.  He again recited the verse
+as he plodded along, fixing it in his memory for the future edification
+of his compatriots of the Concho.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The best thing I ever writ!" he assured himself.  "Fust thing I know
+they'll be puttin' me in one of them doxologies for keeps.  'Sundown
+Slim, The Poet of the Mesas!'  Sounds good to me.  Reckon that's why I
+never seen a woman that I wanted to get married to.  Writin' po'try
+kind of detracted me mind from love.  Guess I could love a woman if she
+wouldn't laugh at me for bein' so dog-goned lengthy.  She would have to
+be a small one, though, so as she'd be kind o' scared o' me bein' so
+big.  Then mebby we could get along pretty good.  'Course, I wouldn't
+like her to be scared all the time, but jest kind o' respectable-like
+to me.  Them's the best kind.  Mebby I'll ketch one some day.  Now
+there goes that Chance after a rabbit ag'in.  He's a long piece
+off&mdash;jest can hardly see him except somethin' movin'.  Well, if he
+comes back as quick as he went, he'll be here soon."  And Sundown
+jogged along, spur-chains jingling a fairy tune to his oral soliloquies.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Aside from forgetting to have breakfast that morning, he had made a
+pretty fair beginning.  He was well on his way, had composed a
+roan-colored lyric of the ranges, discoursed on the subject of love,
+and had set his spirit free to meander in the realms of imagination.
+Yet his spirit swept back to him with a rush of wings and a question.
+Why not get married?  And "Gee!  Gosh!" he ejaculated, startled by the
+abruptness of the thought.  "Now I like hosses and dogs and folks, but
+livin' with hosses and dogs ain't like livin' with folks.  If hosses
+and dogs take to you, they think you're the whole thing.  But wimmen is
+different.  If they take to you&mdash;why, they think they're the whole
+thing jest because they landed you.  I dunno!  Jest bein' good to folks
+ain't everything, either.  But bein' good to hosses and dogs is.
+Funny.  I dunno, though.  You either got to understand 'em and be rough
+to 'em, or be good to 'em and then they understand you.  Guess they
+ain't no regular guide-book on how to git along with wimmen.  Well, I
+never come West for me health.  I brung it with me, but I ain't goin'
+to take chances by fallin' in love.  Writin' po'try is wearin' enough."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+For a while he rode silently, enjoying his utter freedom.  But
+followers of Romance must ever be minute-men, armed and equipped to
+answer her call with instant readiness and grace.  Lacking, perhaps,
+the grace, nevertheless Sundown was loyal to his sovereign mistress, in
+proof of which he again sat straight in the saddle, stirred to speech
+by hidden voices.  "Now, take it like I was wearin' a hard-boiled hat
+and a collar and buttin shoes, like the rest of them sports.  Why, that
+wouldn't ketch the eye of some likely-lookin' lady wantin' to get
+married.  Nix!  When I hit town it's me for the big smoke and me
+picture on the front page, standin' with me faithful dog and a lot of
+them fat little babies without any clothes on, but wings, flyin' around
+the edge of me picture and down by me boots and up around me hat&mdash;and
+in big letters she'll say: 'Romance of A Cowboy.  Western Cattle King
+in Search for his Long-lost Sweetheart.  Sundown, once one of our
+Leading Hoboes, now a Wealthy Rancher, visits the Metrokolis on
+Mysterious Errand.'  Huh!  I guess mebby that wouldn't ketch a good
+one, mebby with money."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+But the proverbial fly must appear in the equally proverbial amber.
+"'Bout as clost as them papers ever come to it," he soliloquized.
+"Anyhow, if she was the wrong one, and not me long-lost affiniky, and
+was to get stuck on me shape and these here chaps and spurs, reckon I
+could tell her that the papers made the big mistake, and that me
+Mexican wife does the cookin' with a bread-knife in her boot-leg, and
+that I never had no Mormon ideas, nohow.  That ought to sound kind o'
+home-like, and let her down easy and gentle.  I sure don't want to get
+sent down for breakin' the wimmen's hearts, so I got to be durned
+careful."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+So immersed was he in his imaginings that he did not at once realize
+that his horse had stopped and was leisurely grazing at the edge of the
+trail.  Chance, who had been running ahead, swung back in a wide circle
+and barked impatiently.  Sundown awakened to himself.  "Here, you red
+hoss, this ain't no pie-contest.  We got to hit the water-hole afore
+dark."  Once more in motion, he reverted to his old theme, but with
+finality in his tone.  "I guess mebby I can't tell them reporters
+somethin' about me hotel out here on the desert!  'The only prevailable
+road-house between Antelope and the Concho, run by the retired
+cattle-king, Sundown Slim.'  Sounds good to me.  Mebby I could work up
+a trade by advertisin' to some of them Eastern folks that eats nothin'
+tougher for breakfast than them quakin'-oats and buns and coffee.  Get
+along, you red hoss."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+About six o'clock that evening Sundown arrived at the deserted ranch.
+He unsaddled and led the horse to water.  Then he picketed him for the
+night.  Returning, he prepared a meal and ate heartily.  Just as the
+light faded from the dusty windows, Chance, who was curled in a corner,
+rose and growled.  Sundown strode to the door.  The dog followed,
+sniffing along the crack.  Presently Sundown heard the shuffling tread
+of a horse plodding through the sand.  He swung open the door and stood
+peering into the dusk.  He saw a horseman dismount and enter the
+gateway.  Chance again bristled and growled.  Sundown restrained him.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Hello, there!  That you, Jack?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Nope.  It's me&mdash;Sundown from the Concho."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Concho, eh?  Was headed that way myself.  Saw the dog.  Thought mebby
+it was Jack's dog."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Goin' to stop?" queried Sundown as the other advanced, leading his
+horse.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Guess I'll have to.  Don't fancy riding at night.  Getting too old."
+And the short, genial-faced stranger laughed heartily.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, they's plenty room.  Had your supper?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, but I got some chuck along with me.  Got a match?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sundown produced matches.  The other rolled a cigarette and studied
+Sundown's face covertly in the glow of the match.  In the flare Sundown
+beheld a thick-set, rather short-necked man, smooth-shaven, and of a
+ruddy countenance.  He also noticed that the stranger wore a coat, and
+at once surmised that he was neither cowboy nor herder.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Guess I'll stake out the hoss," said the man.  "See you later."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Chance, who had stood with head lowered and neck outstretched, whined
+and leaped up at Sundown, standing with paws on his master's chest and
+vainly endeavoring to tell him something.  The dog's eyes were eloquent
+and intense.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sundown patted him.  "It's all right, Chance.  That guy's all right.
+Guess I know a good face when I see one.  What's the matter, anyway?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Chance dropped to his feet and stalked to his corner.  He settled
+himself with a lugubrious sigh, as though unwillingly relinquishing his
+responsibilities in the matter.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+When the stranger returned, Sundown had a fire going.  "Feels good,"
+commented the man, rubbing his hands and surveying the room in the glow
+that flared up as he lifted the stove-lid.  "On your way in?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Me?  Nope.  I'm goin' to Antelope."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"So?  Is Jack Corliss hurt bad?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He was kind o' shook up for a couple of days.  Guess he's gettin'
+along all right now.  Reckon you heard what somebody done to Fadeaway."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The stranger nodded.  "They got him, all right.  Knew Fade pretty well
+myself.  Guess I'll eat.&mdash;That coffee of yours was good, all right," he
+said as he finished eating.  He reached for the coffee-pot and tipped
+it.  "She's plumb empty."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'll fill her," volunteered Sundown, obligingly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+As he disappeared in the darkness, the stranger stepped to the rear
+door of the room and opened it.  Then he closed the door and stooping
+laid his saddle and blankets against it.  "He can't make a break that
+way," he said to himself.  As Sundown came in, the man noticed that the
+front door creaked shrilly when opened or closed and seemed pleased
+with the fact.  "Too bad about Fadeaway," he said, helping himself to
+more coffee.  "Wonder who got him?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I dunno.  I found me boss with his head busted the same day they got
+Fade."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Been riding for the Concho long?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That ain't no joke, if you're meanin' feet and inches."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The other laughed.  His eyes twinkled in the ruddy glow of the stove.
+Suddenly he straightened his shoulders and appeared to be listening.
+"It's the hosses," he said finally.  "Some coyote's fussin' around
+bothering 'em.  It's a long way from home as the song goes.  Lend me
+your gun and I'll go see if I can plug one of 'em and stop their
+yipping."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sundown presented his gun to the stranger, who slid it between trousers
+and shirt at the waist-band.  "Don't hear 'em now," he announced
+finally.  "Well, guess I'll roll in."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Strangely enough, he had apparently forgotten to return the gun.
+Sundown, undecided whether to ask for it or not, finally spread his
+blankets and called Chance to him.  The dog curled at his master's
+feet.  Save for the diminishing crackle of dry brush in the stove, the
+room was still.  Evidently the ruddy-faced individual was asleep.
+Vaguely troubled by the stranger's failure to return his gun, Sundown
+drifted to sleep, not for an instant suspecting that he was virtually
+the prisoner of the sheriff of Apache County, who had at Loring's
+instigation determined to arrest the erstwhile tramp for the murder of
+Fadeaway.  The sheriff had his own theory as to the killing and his
+theory did not for a moment include Sundown as a possible suspect, but
+he had a good, though unadvertised, reason for holding him.  Accustomed
+to dealing with frontier folk, he argued that Sundown's imprisonment
+would eventually bring to light evidence leading to the identity of the
+murderer.  It was a game of bluff, and at such a game he played a
+master hand.
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P>
+The stranger seemed unusually affable in the morning.  He made the
+fire, and, before Sundown had finished eating, had the two ponies
+saddled and ready for the road.  Sundown thought him a little too
+agreeable.  He was even more perplexed when the man said that he had
+changed his mind and would ride to Antelope with him.  "Thought you
+said you was goin' to the Concho?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, seeing you say Jack can't ride yet, guess I'll wait."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He can talk, all right," asserted Sundown.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The other paid no apparent attention to this remark but rode along
+pointing out landmarks and discoursing largely upon the weather, the
+feed, and price of hay and grain and a hundred topics associated with
+ranch-life.  Sundown, forgetful of his pose as a vaquero of long
+standing (unintentional), assumed rather the attitude of one absorbing
+information on such topics than disseminating it.  Nor did he
+understand the stranger's genial invitation to have supper with him at
+Antelope that night, as they rode into the town.  He knew, however,
+that he was creating a sensation, which he attributed to his Mexican
+spurs and chaps.  People stared at him as he stalked down the street
+and turned to stare again.  His companion seemed very well known in
+Antelope.  Nearly every one spoke to him or waved a greeting.  Yet
+there was something peculiar in their attitudes.  There was an
+aloofness about them that was puzzling.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He sure looks like the bad man from Coyote Gulch," remarked one who
+stood in front of "The Last Chance" saloon.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He ain't heeled," asserted the speaker's companion.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Heeled!  Do you reckon Jim's plumb loco?  Jim took care of that."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+All of which was music to Sundown.  He was making an impression, yet he
+was not altogether happy.  He did not object to being classed as a bad
+man so long as he knew at heart that he was anything but that.  Still,
+he was rather proud of his instant notoriety.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+They stopped in front of a square, one-story building.  Sundown's
+companion unlocked the door.  "Come on in," he said.  "We'll have a
+smoke and talk things over."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But I was to see Mr. Kennedy the lawyer," asserted Sundown.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"So?  Well, it ain't quite time to see him yet."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sundown's back became cold and he stared at the stranger with eyes that
+began to see the drift of things.  "You ain't a cop, be you?" he asked
+timorously.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"They call it 'sheriff' here."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, I call it kind o' warm and I'm goin' outside."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I wouldn't.  One of my deputies is sitting just across the street.
+He's a mighty good shot.  Can beat me hands down.  Suppose you drop
+back in your chair and tell me what you know about the shooting of
+Fadeaway."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Me?  You ain't joshin', be you?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Never more serious in my life!  I'm interested in this case."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, I ain't!" was Sundown's prompt remark.  "And I got to go.  I'm
+goin' on privut business for me boss and confidenshell.  Me and Chance."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That's all right, my friend.  But I have some private and confidential
+business that can't wait."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But I ain't done nothin'," whined Sundown, lapsing into his old
+attitude toward the law.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Maybe not.  Mr. Loring telephoned me that Fadeaway had been shot and
+that a man answering your description&mdash;a tramp, he said&mdash;seemed to know
+something about it.  You never was a puncher.  You don't get on or off
+a cayuse like one.  From what I learn you were a Hobo when Jack Corliss
+gave you a job.  That's none of my business.  I arrest you as a
+suspicious character, and I guess I'll have to keep you here till I
+find out more about Fadeaway's case.  Have a cigar?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Huh!  Say, don't you ever get mad?" queried Sundown, impressed by the
+other's most genial attitude.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The sheriff laughed.  "Doesn't pay in my business.  Now, you just ease
+up and tell me what you know.  It will save time.  Did you ever have
+trouble with Fadeaway?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not on your life!  I give him all the room he wanted."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Did you know Fernando&mdash;-one of Loring's herders?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I seen him onct.  He saved me life from bein' killed by a steer.  Did
+he say I done it?" parried Sundown.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The sheriff's opinion of Sundown's acumen was disturbed.  Evidently
+this queer individual posing as a cowboy was not such a fool, after all.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No.  Have you seen him lately?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Nope.  Chance and me was over to his camp, but he was gone.  We kind
+o' tracked back there from the place where we found Fadeaway."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That so?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Uhuh.  It was like this."  And Sundown gave a detailed account of his
+explorations.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+When he had finished, the sheriff made a note on the edge of a
+newspaper.  Then he turned to Sundown.  "You're either the deepest hand
+I've tackled yet, or you're just a plain fool.  You don't act like a
+killer."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Killer!  Say, mister, I wouldn't kill a bug that was bitin' me 'less'n
+he wouldn't let go.  Why, ask Chance there!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I wish that dog could talk," said the sheriff, smiling.  "Did you know
+that old Fernando had left the country&mdash;crossed the line into New
+Mexico?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What?  Him?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes.  I know about where he is."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Guess his boss fired him for lettin' all the sheep get killed.  Guess
+he had to go somewhere."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The sheriff nodded.  "So you were going to take a little trip yourself,
+were you?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"For me boss.  You ask him.  He can tell you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I reckon when he finds out where you are he'll come in."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And you're goin' to pinch me?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You're pinched."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, I'm dum clost to gettin' mad.  You look here!  Do you think I'd
+be ridin' to Antelope if I done anything like shoot a man?  Do you
+think I'd hand you me gun without sayin' a word?  And if you think I
+didn't shoot Fadeaway, what in hell you pinchin' me for?  Ain't a guy
+got a right to live?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes.  Fadeaway had a right to live."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, I sure never wanted to see him cross over.  That's the way with
+you cops.  If a fella is a Bo, he gets pinched, anyhow.  If he quits
+bein' a Bo and goes to workin' at somethin', then he gets pinched for
+havin' been a Bo onct.  I been livin' honest and peaceful-like and
+straight&mdash;and I get pinched.  Do you wonder a Bo gets tired of tryin'
+to brace up?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Can't say that I do.  Got to leave you now.  I'll fix you up
+comfortable in here."  And the sheriff unlocked the door leading to the
+one-room jail.  "I'll talk it over with you in the morning.  The wife
+and kid will sure be surprised to see me back, so I'll mosey down home
+before somebody scares her to death telling her I'm back in town.
+So-long."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sundown sat on the narrow bed and gazed at the four walls of the room.
+"Wife and kid!" he muttered.  "Well, I reckon he's got a right to have
+'em.  Gee Gosh!  Wonder if he'll feed Chance!"
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap18"></A>
+<H2 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER XVIII
+</H2>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+THE SHERIFF AND OTHERS
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+Chance, disconsolate, wandered about Antelope, returning at last to lie
+before the door of the sheriff's office.  The sheriff, having
+reestablished himself, for the nonce, in the bosom of his family,
+strolled out to the street.  He called to Chance, who dashed toward
+him, then stopped with neck bristling.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The sheriff's companion laughed.  "I was going to feed him," explained
+the sheriff.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I know what I'd feed him," growled his companion.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What for?  He's faithful to his boss&mdash;and that's something."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The other grunted and they passed up the street.  Groups of men waylaid
+them asking questions.  As they drifted from one group to another, the
+friend remarked that his companion seemed to be saying little.  The
+stout sheriff smiled.  He was listening.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Chance, aware that something was wrong, fretted around the door of
+Sundown's temporary habitation.  Finally he threw himself down, nose on
+outstretched paws, and gazed at the lights and the men across the way.
+Later, when the town had become dark and silent, the dog rose, shook
+himself, and padded down the highway taking the trail for the Concho.
+He knew that his master's disappearance had not been voluntary.  He
+also knew that his own appearance alone at the Concho would be evidence
+that something had gone wrong.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Once well outside the town, Chance settled to a long, steady stride
+that ate into the miles.  At the water-hole he leaped the closed gate
+and drank.  Again upon the road he swung along across the starlit
+mesas, taking the hills at a trot and pausing on each rise to rest and
+sniff the midnight air.  Then down the slopes he raced, and out across
+the levels, the great bunching muscles of his flanks and shoulders
+working tirelessly.  As dawn shimmered across the ford he trotted down
+the mud-bank and waded into the stream, where he stood shoulder-deep
+and lapped the cool water.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss, early afoot, found him curled at the front door of the
+ranch-house.  Chance braced himself on his fore legs and yawned.  Then
+stretching he rose and, frisking about Corliss, tried to make himself
+understood.  Corliss glanced toward the corral, half expecting to see
+Sundown's horse.  Then he stepped to the men's quarters.  He greeted
+Wingle, asking him if Sundown had returned.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No.  Thought he went east."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Chance came back, alone."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+And Corliss and the cook eyed each other simultaneously and nodded.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Loring," said Wingle.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Guess you're right, Hi."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Sheriff must 'a' been out of town and got back just in time to meet up
+with Sundown," suggested Wingle.  And he seized a scoop and dug into
+the flour barrel.
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P>
+An hour later the buckboard stood at the ranch gate.  Bud Shoop,
+crooning a range-ditty that has not as yet disgraced an anthology,
+stood flicking the rear wheel with his whip:&mdash;
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P CLASS="poem">
+"Oh, that biscuit-shooter on the Santa Fé,<BR>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&mdash;Hot coffee, ham-and-eggs, huckleberry pies,&mdash;<BR>
+Got every lonely puncher that went down that way<BR>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;With her yella-bird hair and them big blue eyes&#8230;
+</P>
+
+<P CLASS="poem">
+"For a two-bit feed and a two-bit smile&#8230;"
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P>
+The song was interrupted by the appearance of Corliss, who swung to the
+seat and took the reins.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'll jog 'em for a while," he said as Shoop climbed beside him.  "Go
+ahead, Bud.  Don't mind me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Shoop laughed and gestured over his shoulder.  "Chance, there, is
+sleepin' with both fists this lovely mornin'.  Wonder how Sun is makin'
+it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We'll find out," said Corliss, shaking his head.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Believe us!  For we're goin' to town!  Say, ain't you kind of offerin'
+Jim Banks a chance to get you easy?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If he wants to.  If he locked Sundown up, he made the wrong move."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It's easy!" said Shoop, gesturing toward the Loring rancho as they
+passed.  "Goin' to bush at the water-hole to-night?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No.  We'll go through."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Shoop whistled.  "Suits me!  And I reckon the team is good for it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He glanced sideways at Corliss, who sat with eyes fixed straight ahead.
+The cattle-man's face was expressionless.  He was thinking hard and
+fast, but chose to mask it.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Suddenly Shoop, who had watched him some little time, burst into song.
+"Suits me!" he reiterated, more or less ambiguously, by the way, for he
+had just concluded another ornate stanza of the "Biscuit-shooter" lyric.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It's a real song," remarked Corliss.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, now!" exclaimed Shoop.  And thereafter he also became silent,
+knowing from experience that when Corliss had anything worth while to
+say, he would say it.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+About noon they reached the water-hole where Corliss spent some time
+examining the fences and inspecting the outbuildings.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"She's in right good shape yet," commented Shoop.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The title has reverted to the State.  It's queer Loring hasn't tried
+to file on it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mebby he's used his homestead right a'ready," suggested Shoop.  "But
+Nell Loring could file."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+They climbed back into the buckboard.  Again Shoop began a stanza of
+his ditty.  He seemed well pleased about something.  Possibly he
+realized that his employer's attitude had changed; that he had at last
+awakened to the obvious necessity for doing something.  As Corliss put
+the team to a brisk trot the foreman's song ran high.  Action was his
+element.  Inactivity tended to make him more or less cynical, and ate
+into his tobacco money.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Suddenly Corliss turned to him.  "Bud, I'm going to homestead that
+ranch."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Whoop!" cried the foreman.  "First shot at the buck!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'm going to put Sundown on it, for himself.  He's steady and wouldn't
+hurt a fly."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Shoop became silent.  He, in turn, stared straight ahead.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What do you think of it?" queried Corliss.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Nothin'.  'Cept I wouldn't mind havin' a little ole homestead myself."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss laughed.  "You're not cut out for it, Bud.  You mean you'd like
+the chance to make the water-hole a base for operations against Loring.
+And the place isn't worth seed, Bud."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But that water is goin' to be worth somethin'&mdash;and right soon.  Loring
+can't graze over this side the Concho, if he can't get to water."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That's it.  If I put you on that ranch, you'd stand off Loring's
+outfit to the finish, I guess."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I sure would."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That's why I want Sundown to take it up.  He'd let his worst enemy
+water sheep or cattle there.  He won't fight, but he's loyal enough to
+my interests to sue Loring for trespass, if necessary."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"See you and raise you one, Jack.  They'll bluff Sun clean off his hind
+feet.  He won't stick."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'll chance it, Bud.  And, besides, I need you right where you are."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'm sure happy!" exclaimed the irrepressible Bud, grinning.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss laughed, then shook his head.  "I'll tell you one thing," he
+said, facing his foreman.  "I've been 'tending too many irons and some
+of 'em are getting cold.  I don't want trouble with any one.  I've held
+off from Loring because&mdash;oh&mdash;because I had a good reason to say
+nothing.  Billy's out of it again.  The coast is clear, and I'm going
+to give old man Loring the fight of his life."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The whoop which Shoop let out startled the team into a lunging gallop.
+"Go it, if you want to!" said Corliss as the buckboard swung around a
+turn and took the incline toward Antelope.  "I'm in a hurry myself."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Nevertheless, he saved the team as they struck the level and held them
+to a trot.  "Wise old head," was Shoop's inward comment.  And then
+aloud: "Say, Jack, I ain't sayin' I'm glad to see you get beat up, but
+that bing on the head sure got you started right.  The boys was
+commencin' to wonder how long you'd stand it without gettin' your back
+up.  She's up.  I smell smoke."
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P>
+At Antelope, Shoop put up the horses.  Later he joined his employer and
+they had supper at the hotel.  Then they strolled out and down the
+street toward the sheriff's home.  When they knocked at the door it was
+opened by a plump, dark-eyed woman who greeted them heartily.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Come right in, boys.  Jim's tendin' the baby."  And she took their
+hats.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+They stepped to the adjoining room where Sheriff Jim sat on the floor,
+his coat off, while his youngest deputy, clad only in an abbreviated
+essential garnished with a safety-pin, sat opposite, gravely tearing up
+the evening paper and handing the pieces to his proud father, who
+stuffed the pieces in his pants pocket and cheerfully asked for more.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Election?" queried Shoop.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And all coming Jim's way," commented Corliss.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The baby paused in his balloting and solemnly surveyed the dusty
+strangers.  Then he pulled a piece of paper from his father's pocket
+and offered it to Shoop.  "Wants me to vote, the little cuss!  Well,
+here goes."  And, albeit unfamiliar with plump aborigines at close
+range, the foreman entered into the spirit of the game and cast his
+vote for the present incumbent, deputizing the "yearlin'" to handle the
+matter.  The yearling however, evidently thought it was time for a
+recount.  He gravitated to the perspiring candidate and, standing on
+his hands and feet,&mdash;an attitude which seemingly caused him no
+inconvenience,&mdash;reached in the ballot-box and pulling therefrom a
+handful of votes he cast them ceiling-ward with a shrill laugh,
+followed by an unintelligible spluttering as he sat down suddenly and
+began to pick up the scattered pieces of paper.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You're elected," announced Shoop.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+And the by-play was understood by the three men, yet each maintained
+his unchanged expression of countenance.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You see how I'm fixed, boys," said the sheriff.  "Got to stick by my
+constituent or he'll howl."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We're in no hurry, Jim.  Just drove into town to look around a little."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'll take him now," said Mrs. Jim, as she came from the kitchen drying
+her hands on her apron.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The elector, however, was of a different mind.  He greeted his mother
+with a howl and a series of windmill revolutions of his arms and legs
+as she caught him up.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Got mighty free knee-action," remarked Shoop.  "Mebby when he's bedded
+down for the night you can come over to the 'Palace.'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'll be right with you."  And the sheriff slipped into his coat.  "How
+you feeling, Jack?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Pretty good.  That's a great boy of yours."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Sure got your brand," added Shoop.  "Built close to the ground like
+his dad."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sheriff Banks accepted these hardy compliments with an embarrassed grin
+and followed his guests to the doorway.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Good-night!" called Mrs. Jim from the obscurity of the bedroom.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Good-night, ma'am!" from Shoop.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Good-night!" said Corliss.  "Take good care of that yearling."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, now, John, as if I wouldn't!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Molly would come out," apologized Jim, "only the kid is&mdash;is grazin'.
+How's the feed holdin' out on the Concho?" which question following in
+natural sequence was not, however, put accidentally.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Fair," said Corliss.  "We looked for you up that way."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I was over on the Reservation.  I sent Tom up there to see after
+things," and the sheriff gestured toward the distant Concho.  "Sent him
+up to-night.  Let's go over to the office."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss shook his head.  "Don't want to see him, just now.  Besides, I
+want to say a few things private."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"All right.  There was a buyer from Kansas City dropped in to town
+to-day.  Didn't see him, did you?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Cattle?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Uhuh."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No.  We just got in."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+They turned and walked up the street, nodding to an occasional lounger,
+laughing and talking easily, yet each knew that their banter was a
+meandering current leading to something deeper which would be sounded
+before they separated.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sheriff Banks suddenly stopped and slapped his thigh.  "By Gum!  I
+clean forgot to ask if you had chuck.  You see that kid of mine&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Sure!  But we put the 'Palace' two feeds to the bad," asserted Shoop.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+They drifted to the hotel doorway and paused at the counter where each
+gravely selected a cigar.  Then they clumped upstairs to Corliss's
+room.  Jim Banks straddled a chair and faced his friends.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Shoop, excusing himself with humorous politeness, punched the pillows
+together and lay back on the bed which creaked and rustled beneath his
+weight.  "These here corn-husk mattresses is apologizin'," he said,
+twisting around and leaning on his elbow.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, Jack," said the smiling sheriff, "shoot the piece."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Or the justice of the peace&mdash;don't matter," murmured Shoop.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss, leaning forward, gazed at the end of his cigar.  Then he
+raised his eyes.  "Jim," he said quietly, "I want Sundown."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"So do I."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss smiled.  "You've got him, all right.  What's your idea?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, if anybody else besides you asked me, Jack, they'd be wasting
+time.  Sundown is your man.  I don't know anything about him except he
+was a Hobo before he hit the Concho.  But I happen to know that he was
+pretty close to the place where Fadeaway got his, the same day and
+about the same time.  I've listened to all the talk around town and it
+hasn't all been friendly to you.  You can guess that part of it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If you want me&mdash;" began Corliss.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No."  And the sheriff's gesture of negation spread a film of cigar-ash
+on the floor.  "It's the other man I want."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Sundown?" asked Shoop, sitting up suddenly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You go to sleep, Bud," laughed the sheriff.  "You can't catch me that
+easy."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Shoop relaxed with the grin of a school-boy.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'll go bail," offered Corliss.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No.  That would spoil my plan.  See here, Jack, I know you and Bud
+won't talk.  Loring telephoned me to look out for Sundown.  I did.
+Now, Loring knows who shot Fadeaway, or I miss my guess.  Nellie Loring
+knows, too.  So do you, but you can't prove it.  It was like Fade to
+put Loring's sheep into the caņon, but we can't prove even that, now.
+I'm pretty sure your scrap with Fade didn't have anything to do with
+his getting shot.  You ain't that kind."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, here's my side of it, Jim.  Fadeaway had it in for me for firing
+him.  He happened to see me talking to Nellie Loring at Fernando's
+camp.  Later we met up on the old Blue Trail.  He said one or two
+things that I didn't like.  I let him have it with the butt of my
+quirt.  He jerked out his gun and hit me a clip on the head.  That's
+all I remember till the boys came along."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You didn't ride as far as the upper ford, that day?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No.  I told Fadeaway I wanted him to come back with me and talk to
+Loring.  I was pretty sure he put the sheep into the caņon."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, Jack, knowing you since you were a boy, that's good enough for
+me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But how about Sundown?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He stays.  How long do you think I'll hold Sundown before Nell Loring
+drives into Antelope to tell me she can like as not prove he didn't
+kill Fade?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But if you know that, why do you hold him?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"To cinch up my ideas, tight.  Holding him will make talk.  Folks
+always like to show off what they know about such things.  It's natural
+in 'em."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"New Mex. is a comf'table-sized State," commented Shoop from the bed.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And he was raised there," said the sheriff.  "He's got friends over
+the line and so have I.  Sent 'em over last week."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Thought Sun was raised back East?" said Shoop, again sitting up.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss smiled.  "Better give it up, Bud."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, <I>very</I> well!" said Shoop, mimicking a <I>grande dame</I> who had once
+stopped at Antelope in search for local color.  "Anyhow, you got to set
+a Mexican to catch a Mexican when he's hidin' out with Mexicans."  With
+this bit of advice, Shoop again relapsed to silence.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Going back to the Concho to-morrow?" queried Banks.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No.  Got a little business in town."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I heard Loring was due here to-morrow."  The sheriff stated this
+casually, yet with intent.  "I was talking with Art Kennedy 'bout two
+hours ago&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Kennedy the land-shark?" queried Shoop.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The same.  He said something about expecting Loring."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Bud Shoop had never aspired to the distinction of being called a
+diplomat, but he had an active and an aggressive mind.  With the
+instinct for seizing the main chance by its time-honored forelock, he
+rose swiftly.  "By Gravy, Jack!  I gone and left them things in the
+buckboard!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, they'll be all right," said Corliss easily.  Then he caught his
+foreman's eye and read its meaning.  His nod to Shoop was all but
+imperceptible.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I dunno, Jack.  I'd hate to lose them notes."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Notes?"  And the sheriff grinned.  "Writing a song or starting a bank,
+Bud?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Song.  I was composin' it to Jack, drivin' in."  And the genial Bud
+grabbed his hat and swept out of the room.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Long before he returned, Sheriff Jim had departed puzzling over the
+foreman's sudden exit until he came opposite "The Last Chance" saloon.
+There he had an instant glimpse of Bud and the one known as Kennedy
+leaning against the bar and conversing with much gusto.  Then the
+swing-door dropped into place.  The sheriff smiled and putting two and
+two together found that they made four, as is usually the case.  He had
+wanted to let Corliss know that Loring was coming to Antelope and to
+let him know casually, and glean from the knowledge anything that might
+be of value.  Sheriff Banks knew a great deal more about the affairs of
+the distant ranchers than he was ordinarily given credit for.  He had
+long wondered why Corliss had not taken up the water-hole homestead.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss was in bed when Shoop swaggered in.  The foreman did a few
+steps of a jig, flung his hat in the corner, and proceeded to undress.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Did you see Kennedy?" yawned Corliss.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Bet your whiskers I did!  Got the descriptions in my pocket.  You owe
+me the price of seven drinks, Jack, to say nothin' of what I took
+myself.  Caught him at 'The Last Chance' and let on I was the pore
+lonely cowboy with a sufferin' thirst.  Filled him up with
+'Look-out-I'm-Comin'' and landed him at his shack, where he dug up them
+ole water-hole descriptions, me helpin' promiscus.  He kind o' bucked
+when I ast him for them papers.  Said he only had one copy that he was
+holdin' for another party.  And I didn't have to strain my guesser any,
+to guess who.  I told him to saw off and get busy quick or I'd have him
+pinched for playin' favorites.  Guess he seen I meant business, for he
+come acrost.  She toots for Antelope six-forty tomorrow mornin'.  This
+is where I make the grand play as a homesteader, seein' pore Sundown's
+eatin' on the county.  Kind o' had a hunch that way."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We'll have to nail it quick.  If you file you'll have to quit on the
+Concho."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, then, I quit.  Sinker is right in line for my bunk.  Me for the
+big hammer and the little ole sign what says: 'Private property!  Keep
+off!  All trespassers will be executed!'  And underneath, kind o'
+sassy-like, 'Bud Shoop, proprietor.'"
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap19"></A>
+<H2 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER XIX
+</H2>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+THE ESCAPE
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+About midnight Corliss and his foreman were awakened by a cry of
+"Fire!"  They scrambled from bed and pawed around in the dark for their
+clothes.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Spontinuous conibustication," said Shoop, with a yawn.  "A Jew
+clothin'-store and a insurance-policy.  Wonder who's ablaze?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I can see from here," said Corliss at the window.  "Keep on dressing,
+Bud, it's the sheriff's office!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Sundown!" Shoop exclaimed, dancing about inelegantly with one foot
+halfway down his pants-leg.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+They tramped down the stairs and ran across to the blazing building.  A
+group of half-dressed citizens were passing buckets and dashing their
+final and ineffectual contents against the spouting flames.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He's sure done on both sides if he's in there," remarked Shoop.  He
+ran around to the back of the jail and called loudly on Sundown.
+Jumping, he caught the high wooden bars of the window and peered into
+the rear room.  A rivulet of flame crept along the door that led from
+the jail to the office.  The room seemed to be empty.  Shoop dropped to
+the ground and strolled around to the front.  "Tryin' to save the
+buildin' or the prisoner?" he asked of a sweating bucket-passer.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The man paused for a second, slopping water on his boots and gazing
+about excitedly.  "Hey, boys!" he shouted.  "Get an axe and chop open
+the back!  The long gent is roastin' to death in there!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And I reckon that'll keep 'em busy while Sun fans it," soliloquized
+Shoop.  "Hello, Jack!"  And he beckoned to Corliss.  "He ain't in
+there," he whispered, "But how he got out, gets me!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We might as well go back to bed," said Corliss.  "They'll get him,
+anyway.  There's one of Jim's deputies on a cayuse now."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Where do you reckon he'll head for?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Don't know, Bud.  If he heads for the water-hole, they'll get him in
+no time."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Think he set her on fire?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Maybe he dropped a cigarette.  I don't think he'd risk it, on purpose."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Shoop glanced at his watch, tilting it toward the light of the flames.
+"It's just one.  Hello!  There comes the agent.  Reckon he thought the
+station was afire."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Guess not.  He's lighting up.  Must be a special going to stop."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He's sure set the red.  Say, I'm goin' over to see.  Wait a minute."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Shoop followed the agent into the station.  Presently the foreman
+reappeared and beckoned to Corliss.  "Listen, Jack!  Reddy says he's
+got some runnin' orders for the Flyer and she's got to stop to get 'em.
+That means we can eat breakfast in Usher, 'stead of here.  No tellin'
+who'll be on the six-forty headed for the same place, tomorrow mornin'."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss pondered.  His plan of homesteading the water-hole ranch had
+been upset by the arrest of Sundown.  Still, that was no reason for
+giving up the plan.  From Shoop's talk with Kennedy, the lawyer, it was
+evident that Loring had his eye on the deserted ranch.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Far down the track he saw a glimmering dot of fire and heard the faint
+muffled whistle of the Flyer.  "All right, Bud.  I'll get the tickets.
+Get our coats.  We can just make it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+When they stepped from the Flyer at Usher, the faint light of dawn was
+edging the eastern hills.  A baggage-truck rumbled past and they heard
+some one shout, "Get out o' that!"  In the dim light they saw a figure
+crawl from beneath the baggage-car and dash across the station platform
+to be swallowed up in the shadowy gloom of a side street.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I only had seven drinks," said Shoop, gazing after the disappearing
+figure.  "But if Sundown ain't a pair of twins, that was him."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Hold on, Bud!"  And Corliss laid his hand on Shoop's arm.  "Don't take
+after him.  That's the way to stampede him.  We go easy till it's
+light.  He'll see us."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+They sauntered up the street and stopped opposite an "all-night"
+eating-house.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We won't advertise the Concho, this trip," said Corliss, as they
+entered.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Shoop, with his legs curled around the counter stool, sipped his coffee
+and soliloquized.  "Wise old head!  Never was a hotel built that was
+too good for Jack when he's travelin'.  And he don't do his thinkin'
+with his feet, either."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The waiter, who had retired to the semi-seclusion of the kitchen, dozed
+in a chair tilted back against the wall.  He was awakened by a voice at
+the rear door.  Shoop straightened up and grinned at Corliss.  The
+waiter vocalized his attitude with the brief assertion that there was
+"nothin' doin'."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It's him!" said Shoop.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I got the price," came from the unseen.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then you beat it around to the front," suggested the waiter.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Shoop called for another cup of coffee.  As the waiter brought it,
+Sundown, hatless, begrimed, and showing the effects of an unupholstered
+journey, appeared in the doorway.  Shoop turned and stood up.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, if it ain't me old pal Buddy!" exclaimed Sundown.  "What you
+doin' in this here burg?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why, hello, Hawkins!  Where'd you fall from?  How's things over to
+Homer?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sundown took the hint and fabricated a heart-rending tale of an
+all-night ride on "a cayuse that had been tryin' to get rid of him ever
+since he started and had finally piled him as the Flyer tooted for
+Usher."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You do look kind o' shook-up.  Better eat."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I sure got room," said Sundown.  "Fetch me a basket of doughnuts and a
+pail of coffee.  That there Fly&mdash;cayuse sure left me, but he didn't
+take me appetite."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+After the third cup of coffee and the seventh doughnut, Sundown
+asserted that he felt better.  They sauntered out to the street.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How in blazes did you get loose?" queried Shoop, surveying the unkempt
+adventurer with frank amazement.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Blazes is correct.  I clumb out of the window."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Set her on fire?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not with mellishus extent, as the judge says.  Mebby it was a
+cigarette.  I dunno.  First thing I know I was dreamin' I smelt smoke
+and the dream sure come true.  If them bars had been a leetle closter
+together, I reckon I would be tunin' a harp, right now."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How did you happen to jump our train&mdash;and get off here?" asked Corliss.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It was sure lucky," said Sundown, grinning.  "I run 'round back of the
+station and snook up and crawled under the platform in front.  I could
+see everybody hoppin' 'round and I figured I was safer on the job,
+expectin' they'd be lookin' for me to beat it out of town.  Then you
+fellas come up and stood talkin' right over me head.  Bud he says
+somethin' about eatin' breakfast in Usher, and bein' hungry and likin'
+good comp'ny, I waits till the train pulls up and crawls under the
+baggage.  And here I be."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We'll have to get you a hat and a coat.  We'll stop at the next
+barber-shop.  You wash up and get shaved.  We'll wait.  Then we'll head
+for the court-house."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Me ranch?"  And Sundown beamed through his grime.  "Makes me feel like
+writin' a pome!  Now, mebby&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Haven't time, now.  Got to scare up two more witnesses to go on your
+paper.  There's a place, just opening up."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+They crossed the street.  Next to the barbershop was a saloon.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sundown eyed the sign pensively.  "I ain't a drinkin' man&mdash;regular," he
+said, "but there are times&#8230;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There are times," echoed Corliss, and the three filed between the
+swing-doors and disappeared.
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P>
+An hour later three men, evidently cow-men from their gait and bearing,
+passed along the main street of Usher and entered the court-house,
+where they were met by two citizens.  The five men were admitted to the
+inner sanctum of the hall of justice, from which they presently
+emerged, laughing and joking.  The tallest of them seemed to be
+receiving the humorous congratulations of his companions.  He shook
+hands all around and remarked half-apologetically: "I ain't a drinkin'
+man, reg'lar&#8230; but there are times&#8230;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The five men drifted easily toward the swing-doors.  Presently they
+emerged.  Shoop nudged his employer.  David Loring and his daughter had
+just crossed the street.  The old sheep-man glanced at the group in
+front of the saloon and blinked hard.  Of the West, he read at a glance
+the situation.  Sundown, Corliss, and Shoop raised their hats as
+Eleanor Loring bowed.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Beat him by a neck!" said Shoop.  "Guess we better fan it, eh, Jack?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There's no hurry," said Corliss easily.  Nevertheless, he realized
+that Sundown's presence in Usher was quite apt to be followed by a wire
+from the sheriff of Antelope which would complicate matters, to say the
+least.  He shook hands with the two townsmen and assured them that the
+hospitality of the Concho was theirs when they chose to honor it.  Then
+he turned to Bud Shoop.  "Get the fastest saddle-horse in town and ride
+out to the South road and wait for us.  I'm going to send Sundown over
+to Murphy's.  Pat knows me pretty well.  From there he can take the
+Apache road to the Concho.  We can outfit him and get him settled at
+the water-hole ranch before any one finds out where he is."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But Jim'll get him again," said Shoop.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I expect him to.  That'll be all right."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, you got me.  Thought I knowed somethin' about your style, but I
+don't even know your name."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Let's move on.  You go ahead and get the cayuse.  I want to talk to
+Sundown."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Then Corliss explained his plan.  He told Sundown to keep the
+water-hole fenced and so keep the sheep-men from using it.  This would
+virtually control several thousand acres of range around the water-hole
+ranch.  He told Sundown that he expected him to homestead the ranch for
+himself&mdash;do the necessary work to secure a title, and then at his
+option either continue as a rancher or sell the holding to the Concho.
+"I'll start you with some stock&mdash;a few head, and a horse or two.  All
+you have to do is to 'tend to business and forget that I have ever
+spoken to you about homesteading the place.  You'll have to play it
+alone after you get started."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Suits me, boss.  I ain't what you'd call a farmer, but me and Chance
+can scratch around and act like we was.  But the smooth gent as pinched
+me&mdash;ain't he goin' to come again?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Sure as you're wearing spurs!  But you just take it easy and you'll
+come out all right.  Loring put Jim Banks after you.  Jim is all right
+and he's business.  Loring wants the water-hole ranch.  So do I.  Now,
+if Loring tells the sheriff he saw you in Usher, and later at the
+water-hole, Jim will begin to think that Loring is keeping pretty close
+trail on you.  When Jim finds out you've filed on the water-hole,&mdash;and
+he already knows that Loring wants it,&mdash;he'll begin to figure that
+Loring had you jailed to keep you out of his way.  And you can take it
+from me, Jim Banks is the squarest man in Apache County.  He'll give
+you a chance to make good.  If we can keep you out of sight till he
+hears from over the line, I think you'll be safe after that.  If we
+can't, why, you still have your title to the water-hole ranch and that
+holds it against trespassers."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, you're sure some shark on the long think!  Say, I been scared
+stiff so long I'm just commencin' to feel me legs again.  The sun is
+shinin' and the birds are sawin' wood.  I get you, boss!  The old guy
+that owns the wool had me pinched.  Well, I ain't got nothin' ag'in'
+him, but that don't say I ain't workin' for you.  Say, if he comes
+botherin' around me farm, do I shoot?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No.  You just keep right on.  Pay no attention to him."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Just sick Chance on him, eh?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He'd get Chance.  I'm going to run some cattle over that way soon.
+Then you'll have company.  You needn't be scared."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Cattle is some comp'ny at that.  Say, have I got to ride that there
+bronc Bud jest went down the street on?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"As soon as we get out of town."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Which wouldn't be long if we had hosses like him, eh?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'll give you a note to Murphy.  He'll send your horse back to Usher
+and let you take a fresh horse when you start for the Concho.  Take it
+easy, and don't talk."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"All right, boss.  But I was thinkin'&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, it's men like me and you that puts things through.  It takes a
+man with sand to go around this country gettin' pinched and thrun and
+burnt up and bein' arrested every time he goes to spit.  Folks'll be
+sayin' that there Sundown gent is a brave man&mdash;me!  Never shot nobody
+and dependin' on his nerve, every time.  They's nothin' like havin' a
+bad repetation."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Nothing like it," assented Corliss, smiling.  "Well, here's your road.
+Keep straight on till you cross the river.  Then take the right fork
+and stick to it, and you'll ride right into Murphy's.  He'll fix you
+up, all right."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Did you think in this note to tell him to give me a hoss that only
+travels one way to onct?" queried Sundown.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss laughed.  "Yes, I told him.  Don't forget you're a citizen and
+a homesteader.  We're depending on you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You bet!  And I'll be there with the bells!"
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P>
+Shoop and Corliss watched Sundown top a distant rise and disappear in a
+cloud of dust.  Then they walked back to the station.  As they waited
+for the local, Shoop rolled a cigarette.  "Jest statin' it mild and
+gentle," he said, yawning, "the last couple of weeks has been kind of a
+busy day.  Guess the fun's all over.  Sundown's got a flyin' start;
+Loring's played his ace and lost, and you and me is plumb sober.  If
+I'd knowed it was goin' to be as quiet as this, I'd 'a' brought my
+knittin' along."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There are times&#8230;" said Corliss.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And we got just five minutes," said Shoop.  "Come on."
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap20"></A>
+<H2 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER XX
+</H2>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+THE WALKING MAN
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+Sundown's sense of the dramatic, his love for posing, with his
+linguistic ability to adopt the vernacular of the moment so impressed
+the temperamental Murphy that he disregarded a portion of his friend
+Corliss's note, and the morning following his lean guest's arrival at
+the ranch the jovial Irishman himself saddled and bridled the swiftest
+and most vicious horse in the corral; a glass-eyed pinto, bronc from
+the end of his switching tail to his pink-mottled muzzle.  He was a
+horse with a record which he did not allow to become obsolete, although
+he had plenty of competition to contend with in the string of broncs
+that Murphy's riders variously bestrode.  Moreover, the pinto, like
+dynamite, "went off" at the most unexpected intervals, as did many of
+his riders.  Sundown, bidding farewell to his host, mounted and swung
+out of the yard at a lope.  The pinto had ideas of his own.  Should he
+buck in the yard, he would immediately be roped and turned into the
+corral again.  Out on the mesas it would be different&mdash;and it was.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He paid no attention to a tumble-weed gyrating across the Apache road.
+Neither did he seem disturbed when a rattler burred in the bunch-grass.
+Even the startled leap of a rabbit that shot athwart his immediate
+course was greeted with nothing more than a snort and a toss of his
+swinging head.  Such things were excuses for bad behavior, but he was
+of that type which furnishes its own excuse.  He would lull his rider
+to a false security, and then&#8230;
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The pinto loped over level and rise tirelessly.  Sundown stood in his
+stirrups and gazed ahead.  The wide mesas glowing in the sun, the sense
+of illimitable freedom, the keen, odorless air wrought him to a pitch
+of inspiration.  He would, just over the next rise, draw rein and woo
+his muse.  But the next rise and the next swept beneath the pinto's
+rhythmic hoofs.  The poetry of motion swayed his soul.  He was enjoying
+himself.  At last, he reflected, he had mastered the art of sitting a
+horse.  He had already mastered the art of mounting and of descending
+under various conditions and at seemingly impossible angles.  As Hi
+Wingle had once remarked&mdash;Sundown was the most <I>durable</I> rider on the
+range.  His length of limb had no apparent relation to his shortcomings
+as a vaquero.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Curiosity, as well as pride, may precede a fall.  Sundown eventually
+reined up and breathed the pinto, which paced with lowered head as
+though dejected and altogether weary&mdash;which was merely a pose, if an
+object in motion can be said to pose.  His rider, relaxing, slouched in
+the saddle and dreamed of a peaceful and domestic future as owner of a
+small herd of cattle, a few fenced acres of alfalfa and vegetables, a
+saddle-horse something like the pinto which he bestrode, with Chance as
+companion and audience&mdash;and perhaps a low-voiced seņora to welcome him
+at night when he rode in with spur-chains jingling and the silver
+conchas on his chaps gleaming like stars in the setting sun.  "But me
+chaps did their last gleam in that there fire," he reflected sadly.
+"But I got me big spurs yet."  Which after-thought served in a measure
+to mitigate his melancholy.  Like a true knight, he had slept spurred
+and belted for the chance encounter while held in durance vile at
+Antelope.  "But me ranch!" he exclaimed.  "Me!  And mebby a tame cow
+and chickens and things,&mdash;eh, Chance!"  But Chance, he immediately
+realized, was not with him.  He would have a windmill and shade-trees
+and a border of roses along the roadway to the house&mdash;like the Loring
+rancho.  But the seņorita to be wooed and won&mdash;that was a different
+matter.  "'T ain't no woman's country nohow&mdash;this here Arizona.  She's
+fine!  But she's a man's country every time!  Only sech as me and Jack
+Corliss and Bud and them kind is fit to take the risks of makin' good
+in this here State.  But we're makin' good, you calico-hoss!  Listen:&mdash;
+</P>
+
+<P CLASS="poem">
+"Oh, there's sunshine on the Concho where the little owls are cryin',<BR>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;And red across the 'dobe strings of chiles are a-dryin';<BR>
+And if Arizona's heaven, tell me what's the use of dyin'?<BR>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Yes, it's good enough down here, just breathin' air;
+</P>
+
+<P CLASS="poem">
+"For the posies are a-bloomin' and the mockin'-birds are matin',<BR>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;And somewhere in Arizona there's a Chola girl a-waitin'<BR>
+For to cook them enchiladas while I do the irrigatin'<BR>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;On me little desert homestead over there.
+</P>
+
+<P CLASS="poem">
+"While I'm ridin' slow and easy&#8230;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Whoa!  Wonder what that is?  Never seen one of them things before.  'T
+ain't a lizard, but he looks like his pa was a lizard.  Mebby his ma
+was a toad.  Kind of a Mormon, I guess."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He leaned forward and gravely inspected the horned toad that blinked at
+him from the edge of the grass.  The pinto realized that his rider's
+attention was otherwise and thoroughly occupied.  With that
+unforgettable drop of head and arch of spine the horse bucked.  Sundown
+did an unpremeditated evolution that would have won him much applause
+and gold had he been connected with a circus.  He landed in a clump of
+brush and watched his hat sail gently down.  The pinto whirled and took
+the homeward road, snorting and bounding from side to side as the dust
+swirled behind him.  Sundown scratched his head.  "Lemme see.  'We was
+ridin', slow and easy&#8230;'  Huh!  Well, I ain't cussin' because I
+don' know how.  Lemme see&#8230; I was facin' east when I started.  Now
+I'm lit, and I'm facin' south.  Me hat's there, and that there
+toad-lizard oughter be over there, if he ain't scared to death.  Reckon
+I'll quit writin' po'try jest at present and finish gettin' acquainted
+with that there toad-lizard.  Wonder how far I got to walk?  Anyhow, I
+was gettin' tired of ridin'.  By gum! me eats is tied to the saddle!
+It's mighty queer how a fella gets set back to beginnin' all over ag'in
+every onct in a while.  Now, this mornin' I was settin' up ridin' a
+good hoss and thinkin' poetical.  Now I'm settin' down restin'.  The
+sun is shinin' yet, and them jiggers in the brush is chirpin' and the
+air is fine, but I ain't thinkin' poetical.  I'd sure hate to have a
+real lady read what I'm thinkin', if it was in a book.  'Them that sets
+on the eggs of untruth,' as the parson says, 'sure hatches lies.'  Jest
+yesterday I was tellin' in Usher how me bronc piled me when I'd been
+ridin' the baggage, which was kind of a hoss-lie.  I must 'a' had it
+comin'."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He rose and stalked to the roadway.  The horned toad, undisturbed,
+squatted in the grass and eyed him with bright, expressionless eyes.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If I was like some," said Sundown, addressing the toad, "I'd pull me
+six-shooter, only I ain't got it now, and bling you to nothin'.
+Accordin' to law you're the injudicious cause preceding the act, which
+makes you guilty accordin' to the statues of this here commonwealth,
+and I seen lots of 'em on the same street, in Boston, scarin' hosses to
+death and makin' kids and nuss-girls cry.  But I ain't goin' to shoot
+you.  If I was to have the sayin' of it, I'd kind o' like to shoot that
+hoss, though.  He broke as fine a pome in the middle as I ever writ, to
+say nothin' of hurtin' me personal feelin's.  Well, so-long, leetle
+toad-lizard.  Just tell them that you saw me&mdash;and they will know the
+rest&mdash;if anybody was to ask you, a empty saddle and a man a-foot in the
+desert is sure circumvential evidence ag'in the hoss.  Wonder how far
+it is to the Concho?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+With many a backward glance, inspired by fond imaginings that the pinto
+<I>might</I> have stopped to graze, Sundown stalked down the road.  Waif of
+chance and devotee of the goddess "Maybeso," he rose sublimely superior
+to the predicament in which he found himself.  "The only reason I'm
+goin' east is because I ain't goin' west," he told himself, ignoring,
+with warm adherence to the glowing courses of the sun the frigid
+possibilities of the poles.  Warmed by the exercise of plodding across
+the mesa trail in high-heeled boots, he swung out of his coat and slung
+it across his shoulder.  Dust gathered in the wrinkles of his boots,
+and more than once he stopped to mop his sweating face with his
+bandanna.  Rise after rise swept gently before him and within the hour
+he saw the misty outline of the blue hills to the south.  Slowly his
+moving shadow shifted, bobbing in front of him as the sun slipped
+toward the western horizon.  A little breeze sighed along the road and
+whirls of sand spun in tiny cones around the roots of the chaparral.
+He reached in his pocket, drew forth a silver dollar, and examined it.
+"Now if they weren't any folks on this here earth, I reckon silver and
+gold and precious jools wouldn't be worth any more than rocks and mud
+and gravel, eh?  Why, even if they weren't no folks, water would be
+worth more to this here world than gold.  Water makes things grow
+and&mdash;and keeps a fella from gettin' thirsty.  And mud makes things
+grow, too, but I dunno what rocks are for.  Just to sit on when you're
+tired, I reckon."  The sibilant burring of a rattler in the brush set
+his neck and back tingling.  "And what snakes was made for, gets me!
+They ain't good to eat, nohow.  And they ain't friendly like some of
+the bugs and things.  I'm thinkin' that that there snake what clumb the
+tree and got Mrs. Eve interested in the apple business would 'a' been a
+whole lot better for folks, if he'd 'a' stayed up that tree and died,
+instead o' runnin' around and raisin' young ones.  Accordin' to my way
+of thinkin' a garden ain't a garden with a snake in it, nohow.  Now,
+Mrs. Eve&mdash;if she'd had to take a hammer and nails and make a ladder to
+get to them apples, by the time she got the ladder done I reckon them
+apples wouldn't 'a' looked so good to her.  That's what comes of havin'
+a snake handy.  'Course, bein' a woman, she jest nacherally couldn't
+wait for 'em to get ripe and fall off the tree.  That would 'a' been
+too easy.  It sure is funny how folks goes to all kinds o' trouble to
+get into it.  Mebby she did get kind o' tired eatin' the same
+breakfast-food every mornin'.  Lots o' folks do, and hankers to try a
+new one.  But I never got tired of drinkin' water yet.  Wisht I had a
+barrel with ice in it.  Gee Gosh!  Ice!  Mebby a cup of water would be
+enough for a fella, but when he's dry he sure likes to see lots ahead
+even if he can't drink it all.  Mebby it's jest knowin' it's there that
+kind o' eases up a fella's thirst.  I dunno."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Romance, as romance was wont to do at intervals, lay in wait for the
+weary Sundown.  Hunger and thirst and a burning sun may not be
+immediately conducive to poetry or romantic imaginings.  But the 'dobe
+in the distance shaded by a clump of trees, the gleam of the drying
+chiles, the glow of flowers, offered an acceptable antithesis to the
+barren roadway and the empty mesas.  Sundown quickened his pace.  Eden,
+though circumscribed by a barb-wire fence enclosing scant territory,
+invited him to rest and refresh himself.  And all unexpected the
+immemorial Eve stood in the doorway of the 'dobe, gazing down the road
+and doubtless wondering why this itinerant Adam, booted and spurred,
+chose to walk the dusty highway.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+At the gate of the homestead Sundown paused and raised his broad
+sombrero.  Anita, dusky and buxom daughter of Chico Miguel, "the little
+hombre with the little herd," as the cattle-men described him, nodded a
+bashful acknowledgment of the salute, and spoke sharply to the dog
+which had risen and was bristling toward the Strange wayfarer.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Agua," said Sundown, opening the gate, "Mucha agua, Senorita," adding,
+with a humorous gesture of drinking, "I'm dry clean to me boots."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The Mexican girl, slow-eyed and smiling, gazed at this most wonderful
+man, of such upstanding height that his hat brushed the limbs of the
+shade-trees at the gateway.  Anita was plump and not tall.  As Sundown
+stalked up the path assuming an air of gallantry that was not wasted on
+the desert air, the girl stepped to the olla hanging in the shade and
+offered him the gourd.  Sundown drank long and deep.  Anita watched him
+with wondering eyes.  Such a man she had never seen.  Vaqueros?  Ah,
+yes! many of them, but never such a man as this.  This one smiled, yet
+his face had much of the sadness in it.  He had perhaps walked many
+weary miles in the heat.  Would he&mdash;with a gesture interpreting her
+speech&mdash;be pleased to rest awhile?  Without hesitation, he would.  As
+he sat on the doorstep gazing contentedly at the flowers bordering the
+path, Anita's mother appeared from some mysterious recess of the 'dobe
+and questioned Anita with quick low utterance.  The girl's answer,
+interpretable to Sundown only by its intonation, was music to him.  The
+Mexican woman, more than buxom, large-eyed and placid, turned to
+Sundown, who rose and again doffed his sombrero.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I lost me horse&mdash;back there.  I'm headed for the Concho&mdash;ma'am.
+Concho," he reiterated in a louder tone.  "Sabe?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The mother of Anita nodded.  "You sick?" she asked.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What?  Me?  Not on your life, lady!  I'm the healthiest Ho&mdash;puncher in
+this here State.  You sabe Concho?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Si!  Zhack Corlees&mdash;'Juan,' we say.  Si!  You of him?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, lady.  I'm workin' for him.  Lost me hoss."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Anita and her mother exchanged glances.  Sundown felt that his status
+as a vaquero was in question.  Would he let the beautiful Anita know
+that he had been ignominiously "piled" by that pinto horse?  Not he.
+"Circumventions alters cases," he soliloquized, not altogether
+untruthfully.  Then aloud, "Me hoss put his foot in a gopher-hole.
+Bruk his leg, and I had to shoot him, lady.  Hated to part with him."
+And the inventive Sundown illustrated with telling gesture the
+imaginary accident.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sympathy flowed freely from the gentle-hearted Seņora and her daughter.
+"Si!"  It was not of unusual happening that horses met with such
+accidents.  It was getting late in the afternoon.  Would the
+unfortunate caballero accept of their hospitality in the way of
+frijoles and some of the good coffee, perhaps?  Sundown would, without
+question.  He pressed a dollar into the palm of the reluctant Seņora.
+He was not a tramp.  Of that she might be assured.  He had met with
+misfortune, that was all.  And would the patron return soon?  The
+patron would return with the setting of the sun.  Meanwhile the vaquero
+of the Concho was to rest and perhaps enjoy his cigarette?  And the
+"vaquero" loafed and smoked many cigarettes while the glowing eyes of
+Anita shone upon him with large sympathy.  As yet Sundown had not
+especially noticed her, but returning from his third visit to the
+cooling olla, he caught her glance and read, or imagined he read, deep
+admiration, lacking words to utter.  From that moment he became a
+changed man.  He shed his weariness as a tattered garment is thrown
+aside.  He straightened his shoulders and held his head high.  At last
+a woman had looked at him and had not smiled at his ungainly stature.
+Nay!  But rather seemed impressed, awe-stricken, amazed.  And his heart
+quickened to faster rhythm, driving the blood riotously through his
+imaginative mind.  He grew eloquent, in gesture, if not in speech.  He
+told of his wanderings, his arrival at the Concho, of Chance his great
+wolf-dog, his horse "Pill," and his good friends Bud Snoop and Hi
+Wangle.  Sundown could have easily given Othello himself "cards and
+spades" in this chance game of hearts and won&mdash;moving metaphor!&mdash;in a
+canter.  That the little Seņorita with the large eyes did not
+understand more than a third of that which she heard made no difference
+to her.  His ambiguity of utterance, backed by assurance and illumined
+by the divine fire of inspiration, awakened curiosity in the placid
+breast of this Desdemona of the mesas.  It required no sophistication
+on her part to realize that this caballero was not as the vaqueros she
+had heretofore known.  He made no boorish jests; his eyes were not as
+the eyes of many that had gazed at her in a way that had tinged her
+dusky cheeks with warm resentment.  She felt that he was endeavoring to
+interest her, to please her rather than to woo.  And more than that&mdash;he
+seemed intensely interested in his own brave eloquence.  A child could
+have told that Sundown was single-hearted.  And with the instinct of a
+child&mdash;albeit eighteen, and quite a woman in her way&mdash;Anita approved of
+this adventurer as she had never approved of men, or man, before.  His
+great height, his long, sweeping arms, moving expansively as he
+illustrated this or that incident, his silver spurs, his loose-jointed
+"tout ensemble," so to speak, combined with an eloquent though puzzling
+manner of speech, fascinated her.  Warmed to his work, and forgetful of
+his employer's caution in regard to certain plans having to do with the
+water-hole ranch, Sundown elaborated, drawing heavily on future
+possibilities, among which he towered in imagination monarch of rich
+mellow acres and placid herds.  He intimated delicately that a
+rancher's life was lonely at best, and enriched the tender intimation
+with the assurance that he was more than fond of enchiladas, frijoles,
+carne-con-chile, tamales, adding as an afterthought that he was
+somewhat of an expert himself in "wrastlin' out" pies and doughnuts and
+various other gastronomical delicacies.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+A delicate frown touched the gentle Anita's smooth forehead when her
+mother interrupted Sundown with a steaming cup of coffee and a plate of
+frijoles, yet Anita realized, as she saw his ardent expression when the
+aroma of the coffee reached him, that this was a most sensible and
+fitting climax to his glowing discourse.  Her frown vanished together
+with the coffee and beans.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Fortified by the strong black coffee and the nourishing frijoles,
+Sundown rose from his seat on the doorstep and betook himself to the
+back of the house where he labored with an axe until he had accumulated
+quite a pile of firewood.  Then he rolled up his sleeves, washed his
+hands, and asked permission to prepare the evening meal.  Although a
+little astonished, the Seņora consented, and watched Sundown, at first
+with a smile of indulgence, then with awakening curiosity, and finally
+with frank and complimentary amazement as he deftly kneaded and rolled
+pie-crust and manufactured a pie that eventually had, for those
+immediately concerned, historical significance.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The "little hombre," Chico Miguel, returning to his 'dobe that evening,
+was greeted with a tide of explanatory utterances that swept him off
+his feet.  He was introduced to Sundown, apprised of the strange
+guest's manifold accomplishments, and partook of the substantial
+evidence of his skill until of the erstwhile generous pie there was
+nothing left save tender reminiscence and replete satisfaction.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Later in the evening, when the Arizona stars glowed and shimmered on
+the shadowy adobe, when the wide mesas grew mysteriously beautiful in
+the soft radiance of the slow moon, Chico Miguel brought his guitar
+from the bedroom, tuned it, and struck a swaying cadence from its
+strings.  Then Anita's voice, blending with the rhythm, made melody,
+and Sundown sat entranced.  Mood, environment, temperament, lent
+romance to the simple song.  Every singing string on the old guitar was
+silver&mdash;the singer's girlish voice a sunlit wave of gold.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The bleak and almost barren lives of these isolated folk became
+illumined with a reminiscent glow as the tinkling notes of the guitar
+hushed to faint echoes of fairy bells hung on the silver boughs of
+starlit trees.  "Adios, linda Rosa," ran the song.  Then silence, the
+summer night, the myriad stars.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sundown, turning his head, gazed spellbound at the dark-eyed singing
+girl.  In the dim light of the lamp she saw that his lean cheeks were
+wet with tears.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap21"></A>
+<H2 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER XXI
+</H2>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+ON THE MESA
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+With the morning sun came a brave, cloudless day and a more jovial mood
+to Sundown as he explained the necessity for haste to the Concho.
+Chico Miguel would gladly furnish horse and saddle.  Juan Corlees was
+of men the finest!  Once upon a time, in fact, Chico Miguel had ridden
+range for the father of Seņor Corlees, but that was in years long past,
+Ah, yes!  Then there were no sheep in the country&mdash;nothing but cattle
+and vaqueros.  Would the caballero accept the loan of horse and saddle?
+The horse could be returned at his convenience.  And possibly&mdash;and here
+Chico Miguel paused to roll a cigarette, light it, and smoke awhile
+reflectively&mdash;and possibly the caballero would again make their humble
+home beautiful with his presence.  Such pie as the Seņor made was a not
+unworthy meal for the saints.  Indeed, Chico Miguel himself had had
+many pleasant dreams following their feast of the evening before.
+Would Sundown condescend to grace their home with his presence again
+and soon?  Sundown would, be Gosh!  He sure did like music, especially
+them Spanish songs what made a fella kind of shivery and sad-like from
+his boots up.  And that part of the country looked good to him.  In
+fact he was willing to be thrun from&mdash;er&mdash;have his hoss step in a
+gopher-hole any day if the accident might terminate as pleasantly as
+had his late misfortune.  He aspired to become a master of the art of
+cooking Mexican dishes.  'Course at reg'lar plain-cookin' and deserts
+he wasn't such a slouch, but when it come to spreadin' the chile, he
+wasn't, as yet, an expert.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Meanwhile he clung tenaciously to the few Spanish words he knew, added
+to which was "Linda Rosa"&mdash;"pretty rose,"&mdash;which he intended to use
+with telling effect when he made his adieux.  After breakfast he rose
+and disappeared.  When he again entered the house the keen Seņora
+noticed that his shirt front swelled expansively just above his heart.
+She wondered if the tall one had helped himself to a few of her beloved
+chiles.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Presently Chico Miguel appeared with the pony.  Sundown mounted,
+hesitated, and then nodded farewell to the Seņora and the almost
+tearful Anita who stood in the doorway.  Things were not as Sundown
+would have had them.  He was long of arm and vigorous, but to cast a
+bouquet of hastily gathered and tied flowers from the gateway to the
+hand of the Seņorita would require a longer arm and a surer aim than
+his.  "Gee Gosh!" he exclaimed, dismounting hurriedly.  "What's that on
+his hind foot?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He referred to the horse.  Chico Miguel, at the gate, hastened to
+examine the pony, but Sundown, realizing that the Seņorita still stood
+beside her mother, must needs create further delay.  He stepped to the
+pony and, assuming an air of experience, reached to take up the horse's
+foot and examine it.  The horse, possibly realizing that its foot was
+sound, resented Sundown's solicitude.  The upshot&mdash;used advisedly&mdash;of
+it was that Sundown found himself sitting in the road and Chico Miguel
+struggling with the pony.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+With a scream Anita rushed to the gateway, wringing her hands as
+Sundown rose stiffly and felt of his shirt front.  The flowers that he
+had picked for his adored, were now literally pressed to his bosom.  He
+wondered if they "were mushed up much?"  Yet he was not unhappy.  His
+grand climax was at hand.  Again he mounted the pony, turned to the
+Seņorita, and, drawing the more or less mangled blossoms from his
+shirt, presented them to her with sweeping gallantry.  Anita blushed
+and smiled.  Sundown raised his hat.  "Adios!  Adios!  Mucha adios!
+Seņorita!  For you sure are the lindaest little linda rosa of the whole
+bunch!" he said.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+And with Anita standing in rapt admiration, Chico Miguel wondering if
+the kick of the horse had not unsettled the strange caballero's reason,
+and the Seņora blandly aware that her daughter and the tall one had
+become adepts in interpreting the language of the eyes, Sundown rode
+away in a cloud of dust, triumphantly joyous, yet with a peculiar
+sensation in the region of his heart, where the horse had kicked him.
+When he realized that admiring eyes could not follow him forever, he
+checked the horse and rubbed his chest.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It hurts, all right! but hoss-shoes is a sign of <I>luck</I>&mdash;and posies is
+a sign of <I>love</I>&mdash;and them two signs sure come together this mornin'.
+'Oh, down in Arizona there's a&mdash;'  No, I reckon I won't be temptin'
+Providence ag'in.  This hoss might have some kind of a dislikin' for
+toad-lizards and po'try mixed, same as the other one.  I can jest kind
+o' work the rest of that poem up inside and keep her on the ice
+till&mdash;er&mdash;till she's the right flavor.  Wonder how they're makin' it at
+the Concho?  Guess I'll stir along.  Mebby they're waitin' for me to
+show up so's they can get busy.  I dunno.  It sure is wonderful what a
+lot is dependin' on me these here days.  I'm gettin' to be kind of a
+center figure in this here country.  Lemme see.  Now I bruk
+jail&mdash;hopped the Limited, took out me homesteader papers, got thrun off
+a hoss, slumped right into love with that sure-enough Linda Rosa, and
+got kicked by another hoss.  And they say I ain't a enterprisin' guy!
+Gee Gosh!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Never so much at home as when alone, the mellifluous Sundown's
+imagination expanded, till it embraced the farthest outpost of his
+theme.  He became the towering center of things terrestrial.  The world
+revolved around but one individual that glorious morning, and he
+generously decided to let it revolve.  He felt&mdash;being, for the first
+time in his weird career, very much in love&mdash;that Dame Fortune, so long
+indifferent to his modest aspirations, had at last recognized in him a
+true adventurer worthy of her grace.  He was a remarkable man,
+physically.  He considered himself a remarkable man mentally, and he
+was, in Arizona.  "Why," he announced to his horse, "they's folks as
+says they ain't no romantics left in this here world!  Huh!  Some of
+them writin' folks oughter jest trail my smoke for a week, instead o'
+settin' in clubs and drinkin' high-balls and expectin' them high-balls
+to put 'em wise to real life!  Huh!  A fella's got to sweat it out
+himself.  The kind of romantics that comes in a bottle ain't the real
+thing.  Pickles is all right, but they ain't cucumbers, nohow.  Wisht I
+had one&mdash;and some salt.  The stories them guys write is like pickles,
+jest two kinds of flavor, sweet and sour.  Now, when I write me life's
+history she'll be a cucumber sliced thin with a few of them little red
+chiles to kind o' give the right kick, and mebby a leetle onion
+representin' me sentiment, and salt to draw out the proper taste, and
+'bout three drops o' vinegar standin' for hard luck, and the hull thing
+fixed tasty-like on a lettuce leaf, the crinkles representin' the
+mountings and valleys of this here world, and me name on the cover in
+red with gold edges.  Gee Gosh!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The creak of the saddle, the tinkle of his spurs, the springy stride of
+the horse furnished a truly pastoral accompaniment to Sundown's
+"romantics."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+As he rode down a draw, he came suddenly upon two coyotes playing like
+puppies in the sun.  He reined up and watched them, and his heart
+warmed to their antics.  "Now, 'most any fella ridin' range would
+nacherally pull his gun and bling at 'em.  What for?  Search me!  They
+ain't botherin' nobody.  Jest playin'.  Guess 'most any animals like to
+play if they wasn't scared o' gettin' shot all the time.  Funny how
+some folks got to kill everything they see runnin' wild.  What's the
+use?  Now, mebby them coyotes is a pa and ma thinkin' o' settin' up
+ranchin' and raisin' alfalfa and young ones.  Or mebby he's just
+a-courtin' her and showin' how he can run and jump better than any
+other coyote she ever seen.  I dunno.  There they go.  Guess they seen
+me.  Say! but they are jest floatin' across the mesa&mdash;they ain't
+runnin'.  Goin' easy, like their legs belonged to somebody else and
+they was jest keepin' up with 'em.  So-long, folks!  Here's hopin' you
+get settled on that coyote-ranch all right!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Thus far on his journey Sundown had enjoyed the pleasing local flavor
+of the morning and his imaginings.  The vinegar, which was to represent
+"hard luck," had not as yet been added to the salad.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+As he ascended the gentle slope of the draw he heard a quick, blunt
+sound, as though some one had struck a drum and immediately muffled the
+reverberations with the hand.  He was too deeply immersed in himself to
+pay much attention to this.  Topping the rise, the fresh vista of
+rolling mesa, the far blue hills, and a white dot&mdash;the distant
+Concho&mdash;awakened him to a realization of his whereabouts.  Again he
+heard that peculiar, dull sound.  He lifted his horse to a lope and
+swept along, the dancing shadow at his side shortening as noon overtook
+him.  He was about to dismount and partake of the luncheon the kindly
+Seņora had prepared for him, when he changed his mind.  "Lunch and
+hunch makes a rhyme," he announced.  "And I got 'em both.  Guess I'll
+jog along and eat at the Concho.  Mebby I'll get there in two, three
+hours."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+As the white dot took on a familiar outline and the eastern wall of the
+caņon of the Concho showed sharply against the sky, he saw a horseman,
+strangely doubled up in the saddle, riding across the mesa toward the
+ranch-house.  Evidently he also was going to the Concho.  Possibly it
+was Bud, or Hi Wingle, or Lone Johnny.  Following an interval of
+attending strictly to the trail he raised his eyes.  He pulled his
+horse up and sat blinking.  Where there had been a horse and rider
+there was but the horse, standing with lowered head.  He shaded his
+eyes with his palm and gazed again.  There stood the horse.  The man
+had disappeared.  "Fell into one of them Injun graves," remarked
+Sundown.  "Guess I'll go see."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+It took much longer than he had anticipated to come up with the
+riderless horse.  He recognized it as one of the Concho ponies.  Almost
+beneath the animal lay a huddled something.  Sundown's scalp tingled.
+Slowly he got from his horse and stalked across the intervening space.
+He led the pony from the tumbled shape on the ground.  Then he knelt
+and raised the man's shoulders.  Sinker, one of the Concho riders,
+groaned and tore at the shirt over his stomach.  Then Sundown knew.  He
+eased the cowboy back and called his name.  Slowly the gray lids
+opened.  "It's me, Sundown!  Who done it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The cowboy tried to rise on his elbow.  Sundown supported his head,
+questioning him, for he knew that Sinker had but little time left to
+speak.  The wounded man writhed impotently, then quieted.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"God, Sun!" he moaned, "they got me.  Tell Jack&mdash;Mexican&mdash;Loring&mdash;sheep
+at&mdash;waterhole.  Tried to bluff&mdash;'em off&mdash;orders not to shoot.  They got
+orders to shoot&mdash;all right.  Tell Jack&mdash;Guess I'm bleedin'
+inside&mdash;So-long&mdash;pardner."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The dying man writhed from Sundown's arms and rolled to his face,
+cursing and clutching at the grass in agony.  Sundown stood over him,
+his hat off, his gaze lifted toward the cloudless sky, his face white
+with a new and strange emotion.  He raised his long arms and clenched
+his hands.  "God A'mighty," he whispered, rocking back and forth, "I
+got to tell You that sech things is <I>wrong</I>.  And from what I seen
+sence I come to this country, You don't care.  But some of us does
+care&#8230; and I reckon we got to do somethin' if You don't."
+</P>
+
+<A NAME="img-254"></A>
+<CENTER>
+<IMG SRC="images/img-254.jpg" ALT="&quot;God A'mighty, sech things is wrong.&quot;" BORDER="2" WIDTH="361" HEIGHT="539">
+<H4>
+[Illustration: "God A'mighty, sech things is wrong."]
+</H4>
+</CENTER>
+
+<P>
+The cowboy raised himself on rigid arms, he lifted his head, and his
+eyes, filmed with the chill of death, grew clear for an instant.
+"'Sandro&mdash;the herder&mdash;got me," he gasped.  His lips writhed back from
+his clenched teeth.  A rush of blood choked him.  He sank to the
+ground, quivered, and was still.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"'Sandro&#8230; the herder"&#8230; whispered Sundown.  "Sinker was me
+friend.  I reckon God's got to leave the finish of this to me."
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap22"></A>
+<H2 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER XXII
+</H2>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+WAIT!
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+To see a man's life go out and to stand by unable to help, unable to
+offer comfort or ease mortal agony, is a bitter experience.  It brings
+the beholder close to the abyss of eternity, wherein the world shrinks
+to a speck of whirling dust and the sun is but a needle-point of light.
+Then it is that the fleshless face of the unconquerable One leans close
+and whispers, not to the insensate clay that mocks the living, but to
+the impotent soul that mourns the dead.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+That Sundown should consider himself morally bound to become one of
+those who he knew would avenge the killing of the cowboy, and without
+recourse to law, was not altogether strange.  The iron had entered his
+soul.  Heretofore at loose ends with the world, the finding of Sinker,
+dying on the mesas, kindled within him righteous wrath against the
+circumstance rather than the individual slayer.  His meandering
+thoughts and emotions became crystallized.  His energies hardened to a
+set purpose.  He was obsessed with a fanaticism akin to that of those
+who had burned witches and thanked their Maker for the opportunity.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+In his simple way he wondered why he had not wept.  He rode slowly to
+the Concho.  Chance leaped circling about his horse.  He greeted the
+dog with a word.  When he dismounted, Chance cringed and crept to him.
+Without question this was his master, and yet there was something in
+Sundown's attitude that silenced the dog's joyous welcoming.  Chance
+sat on his haunches, whined, and did his best by his own attitude to
+show that he was in sympathy with his master's strange mood.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+John Corliss saw instantly that there was something wrong, and his
+hearty greeting lapsed into terse questioning.  Sundown pointed toward
+the northern mesas.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What's up?" he queried.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Sinker&mdash;he's dead&mdash;over there."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Sinker?"  Corliss ran to the corral, calling to Wingle, who came from
+the bunk-house.  The cook whisked off his apron, grabbed his hat, and
+followed Corliss.  "Sinker's done for!" said Corliss.  "Saddle up, Hi.
+Sun found him out there.  Must have had trouble at the water-hole.  I
+should have sent another man with him."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Wingle, with the taciturnity of the plainsman, jerked the cinchas tight
+and swung to the saddle.  Sinker's death had come like a white-hot
+flash of lightning from the bulked clouds that had shadowed disaster
+impending&mdash;and in that shadow the three men rode silently toward the
+north.  Again Corliss questioned Sundown.  Tense with the stress of an
+emotion that all but sealed his lips, Sundown turned his white face to
+Corliss and whispered, "Wait!"  The rancher felt that that one terse,
+whispered word implied more than he cared to imagine.  There was
+something uncanny about the man.  If the killing of Sinker could so
+change the timorous, kindly Sundown to this grim, unbending epitome of
+lean death and vengeance, what could he himself do to check the wild
+fury of his riders when they heard of their companion's passing from
+the sun?
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sinker's horse, grazing, lifted its head and nickered as they rode up.
+They dismounted and turned the body over.  Wingle, kneeling, examined
+the cowboy's six-gun.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss, in a burst of wrath, turned on Sundown.  "Damn you, open your
+mouth.  What do you know about this?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sundown bit his nails and glowered at Corliss.  "God A'mighty sent
+me&mdash;" he began.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+With a swift gesture Corliss interrupted.  "You're working for the
+Concho.  Was he dead when you found him?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sundown slowly raised his arm and pointed across the mesa.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss fingered his belt and bit his lip impatiently.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"A herder&mdash;over there to my ranch&mdash;done it.  Sinker told me&mdash;'fore he
+crossed over.  Said it was 'Sandro.  Said he had orders not to shoot.
+He tried to bluff 'em off, for they was bringin' sheep to the
+water-hole.  He said to tell you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss and Wingle turned from looking at Sundown and gazed at each
+other.  "If that's right&mdash;"  And the rancher hesitated.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I reckon it's right," said Wingle.  And he stooped and together they
+lifted the body and laid it across the cowboy's horse.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sundown watched them with burning eyes.  "We'll ride back home," said
+Corliss, motioning to him.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Home?  Ain't you goin' to do nothin'?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss shook his head.  Sundown slowly mounted and followed them to
+the Concho.  He watched them as they carried Sinker to the bunkhouse.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+When Corliss reappeared, Sundown strode up to him.  "This here hoss
+belongs to that leetle Mexican on the Apache road, Chico Miguel&mdash;said
+you knowed him.  I was goin' to take him back with my hoss.  Now I
+reckon I can't.  I kind o' liked it over there to his place.  I guess I
+want my own hoss, Pill."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I guess you better get something to eat and rest up.  You're in bad
+shape, Sun."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sundown shook his head.  "I got somethin' to do&mdash;after that mebby I can
+rest up.  Can I have me hoss?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, if it'll do you any good.  What are you going to do?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I got me homesteader papers.  I'm goin' to me ranch."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But you're not outfitted.  There's no grub there.  You better take it
+easy.  You'll feel better to-morrow."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't need no outfit.  I reckon I'll saddle Pill."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sundown turned the Mexican's pony into the corral and saddled his own
+horse which he led to the bunk-house.  "I ain't got no gun," he said.
+"The sheriff gent's got mine.  Mebby you'd be lendin' me one?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Wingle stepped to the doorway and stood beside Corliss.  "What does he
+want, Jack?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He's loco.  Wants to borrow a gun."  The rancher turned to Sundown.
+"See here, Sun, there's no use thinking you've got to take a hand in
+this.  Some of the boys'll get the Mexican sure!  I can't stop them,
+but I don't want you to get in trouble."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No.  You come on in and eat," said Wingle.  "You got a touch of sun, I
+guess."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sundown mounted.  "Ain't you goin' to do nothin'?" he asked again.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss and Wingle glanced at each other.  "No, not now."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then me and Chance is," said Sundown.  "Come on, Chance."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss and the cook watched the tall figure as it passed through the
+gateway and out to the mesa.  "I'll go head him off, if you say the
+word, Jack."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss made a negative gesture.  "He'll come back when he gets hungry.
+It's a long ride to the water-hole.  Sinker had sand to get as near
+home as he did.  It's going to be straight hell from now on, Hi."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Wingle nodded.  Through force of habit he reached for his apron to wipe
+his hand&mdash;his invariable preliminary before he shook hands with any
+one.  His apron being off, he hesitated, then stepped to his employer.
+"It sure is," he said, "and I'm ridin' with you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+They shook hands.  Moved by a mutual impulse they glanced at the long,
+rigid shape covered with a blanket.  "When the boys come&mdash;" began
+Wingle.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It will be out of our hands," concluded Corliss.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If Sun&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I ought to ride out after him," said Corliss, nodding.  "But I can't
+leave.  And you can't."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Wingle stepped to the doorway and shaded his eyes.  Far out on the mesa
+the diminishing figure of a horseman showed black against the glare of
+the sun.  Wingle turned and, with a glance at the shrouded figure on
+the bunk-house floor, donned his apron and shuffled to the kitchen.
+Corliss tied his horse and strode to the office.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Hi Wingle puttered about the kitchen.  There would be supper to get for
+fifteen hungry&mdash;No! fourteen, to-night.  He paused, set down the pan
+that he held and opened the door of the chuck-room.  With finger
+marking the count he totaled the number of chairs at the table.
+Fifteen.  Then he stepped softly to the bunk-room, took Sinker's hat
+and stepped back to the table.  He placed the hat on the dead cowboy's
+chair.  Then he closed the door and turned to the preparation of the
+evening meal.  "Jack'll report to Antelope and try and keep the boys
+quiet.  I'm sure with Jack&mdash;only I was a puncher first afore I took to
+cookin'.  And I'm a puncher yet&mdash;inside."  Which was his singular and
+only spoken tribute to the memory of Sinker.  He had reasoned that it
+was only right and fitting that the slayer of a cowman should be slain
+by a cowman&mdash;a code that held good in his time and would hold good
+now&mdash;especially when the boys saw the battered Stetson, every line of
+which was mutely eloquent of its owner's individuality.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sundown drifted through the afternoon solitudes, his mind dulled by the
+monotony of the theme which obsessed him.  It was evening when he
+reached the water-hole.  Around the enclosure straggled a few stray
+sheep.  He cautioned Chance against molesting them.  Ordinarily he
+would have approached the ranch-house timidly, but he was beyond fear.
+He rode to the gate, tied his horse, and stepped to the doorway.  The
+door was open.  He entered and struck a match.  In the dusk he saw that
+the room was empty save for a tarpaulin and a pair of rawhide kyacks
+such as the herders use.  Examining the kyacks he found that they
+contained flour, beans, salt, sugar, and coffee.  Evidently the herders
+had intended making the deserted ranch-house their headquarters.  He
+wondered vaguely where the Mexicans were.  The thought that they might
+return did not worry him.  He knew what he would do in that instance.
+He would find out which one was 'Sandro&#8230; and then&#8230;
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The bleating of the stray sheep annoyed him.  He told Chance to stay in
+the room.  Then he stalked out and opened the gate.  "Mebby they want
+water.  I dunno.  Them's Loring's sheep, all right, but they ain't to
+blame for&mdash;for Sinker."  With the idea came a more reasonable mood.
+The sheep were not to blame for the killing of Sinker.  The sheep
+belonged to Loring.  The herders, also, practically belonged to Loring.
+They were only following his bidding when they protected the sheep.
+With such reasoning he finally concluded that Loring, not his herder,
+was responsible for the cowboy's death.  He returned to the house,
+built a fire, and cooked an indifferent meal.
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P>
+Sundown sat up suddenly.  In the dim light of the moon flickering
+through the dusty panes he saw Chance standing close to the door with
+neck bristling and head lowered.  Throwing back his blanket he rose and
+whispered to the dog.  Chance came to him obediently.  Sundown saw that
+the dog was trembling.  He motioned him back and stepped to the door.
+His slumbers had served to restore him to himself in a measure.  His
+old timidity became manifest as he hesitated, listening.  In the
+absolute silence of the night he thought he heard a shuffling as of
+something being dragged across the enclosure.  Tense with anticipating
+he knew not what, he listened.  Again he heard that peculiar slithering
+sound.  He opened the door an inch and peered out.  In the pallid glow
+of the moon he beheld a shapeless object that seemed to be crawling
+toward him.  Something in the helpless attitude of the object suggested
+Sinker as he had risen on his arm, endeavoring to tell of the disaster
+which had overtaken him.  With a gesture of scorn at his own fear he
+swung open the door.  Chance crept at his heels, whining.  Then Sundown
+stepped out and stood gazing at the strange figure on the ground.  Not
+until a groan of agony broke the utter silence did he realize that the
+night had brought to him a man, wounded and suffering terribly.  "Who
+are you?" he questioned, stooping above the man.  The other dragged
+himself to Sundown's feet and clawed at his knees.  "'Sandro&#8230;  It
+is&mdash;that I&mdash;die.  You don' keel&#8230;  You don'&#8230;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sundown dragged the herder to the house and into the bedroom.  He got
+water, for which the herder called piteously.  With his own blanket he
+made him as comfortable as he could.  Then he built a fire that he
+might have light.  The herder was shot through the thigh, and had all
+but bled to death dragging himself across the mesa from where he had
+fallen from his horse.  Sundown tried to stop the bleeding with strips
+torn from his bandanna.  Meanwhile the wounded man was imploring him
+not to kill him.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'm doin' me best to fix you up, Dago," said Sundown.  "But you better
+go ahead and say them prayers&mdash;and you might put in a couple for Sinker
+what you shot.  I reckon his slug cut the big vein and you got to go.
+Wisht I could do somethin'&#8230; to help&#8230; you stay&#8230; but mebby
+it's better that you cross over easy.  Then the boys don't get you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The Mexican seemed to understand.  He nodded as he lay gazing at the
+lean figure illumined by the dancing light of the open stove.  "Si.
+You good hombre, si," he gasped.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sundown frowned.  "Now, don't you take any idea like that along to
+glory with you.  Sinker&mdash;what you shot&mdash;was me friend.  I ought to kill
+you like a snake.  But God A'mighty took the job off me hands.  I
+reckon that makes me square with&mdash;with Sinker&mdash;and Him."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Again Sundown brought water to the herder.  Gently he raised his head
+and held the cup to his lips.  Chance stood in the middle of the room
+strangely subdued, yet he watched each movement of his master with
+alert eyes.  The moonlight faded from the window and the fire died
+down.  The air became chill as the faint light of dawn crept in to
+emphasize the ghastly picture&mdash;the barren, rough-boarded room, the
+rusted stove, the towering figure of Sundown, impassively waiting; and
+the shattered, shrunken figure of the Mexican, hopeless and helpless,
+as the morning mesas welcomed the golden glow of dawn and a new day.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The herder, despite his apparent torpor, was the first to hear the
+faint thud of hoofs in the loose sand of the roadway.  He grew
+instantly alert, raising himself on his elbow and gazing with fear-wide
+eyes toward the south.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sundown nodded.  "It's the boys," he said, as though speaking to
+himself.  "I was hopin' he could die easy.  I dunno."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+'Sandro raised his hands and implored Sundown to save him from the
+riders.  Sundown stepped to the window.  He saw the flash of spurs and
+bits as a group of the Concho boys swept down the road.  One of them
+was leading a riderless horse.  In a flash he realized that they had
+found the herder's horse and had tracked 'Sandro to the water-hole.  He
+backed away from the window and reaching down took the Mexican's gun
+from its holster.  "'T ain't what I figured on," he muttered.  "They's
+me friends, but this is me ranch."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+With a rush and a slither of hoofs in the loose sand the Concho riders,
+headed by Shoop, swung up to the gate and dismounted.  Sundown stepped
+to the doorway, Chance beside him.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Shoop glanced quickly at the silent figure.  Then his gaze drifted to
+the ground.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"'Mornin', Sun!  Seen anybody 'round here this mornin'?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mornin', fellas.  Nope.  Just me and Chance."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The men hesitated, eyeing Sundown suspiciously.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss stepped toward the ranch-house.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Guess we'll look in," he said, and stepped past Shoop.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sundown had closed the door of the bedroom.  He was at a loss to
+prevent the men entering the house, but once within the house he
+determined that they should not enter the bedroom.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He backed toward it and stood with one shoulder against the lintel.
+"Come right in.  I ain't got to housekeepin' yet, but&#8230;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He ceased speaking as he saw Corliss's gaze fixed on the kyacks.
+"Where did you get 'em?" queried the rancher.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The men crowded in and gazed curiously at the kyacks&mdash;then at Sundown.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Shoop strode forward.  "The game's up, Sun.  We want the Mexican."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"This is me ranch," said Sundown.  "I got the papers&mdash;here.  You fellas
+is sure welcome&mdash;only they ain't goin' to be no shootin' or such-like.
+I ain't joshin' this time."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+A voice broke the succeeding silence.  "If the Mexican is in there, we
+want him&mdash;that's all."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sundown's eyes became bright with a peculiar expression.  Slowly&mdash;yet
+before any one could realize his intent&mdash;he reached down and drew the
+Mexican's gun.  "You're me friends," he said quietly.  "He's in
+there&mdash;dyin'.  I reckon Sinker got him.  He drug himself here last
+night and I took him in.  This is me home&mdash;and if you fellas is <I>men</I>,
+you'll let him die easy and quiet."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'm from Missouri," said Shoop, with a hard laugh.  "You got to show
+me that he's&mdash;like you say, or&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sundown leveled his gun at Shoop.  "I ain't lyin' to you, Bud.  Sinker
+was me friend.  And I ain't lyin' when I says that the fust fella that
+tries to tech him crosses over afore he does."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Some one laughed.  Corliss touched Shoop's arm and whispered to him.
+With a curse the foreman turned and the men clumped out to the yard.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He's right," said Corliss.  "We'll wait."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+They stood around talking and commenting upon Sundown's defense of the
+Mexican.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"'Course we could 'a' got him," said Shoop, "but it don't set right
+with me to be stood up by a tenderfoot.  Sundown's sure loco."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't know, Bud.  He's queer, all right, but this is his ranch.
+He's got a right to order us out."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Shoop was about to retort when Sundown came to the doorway.  "I guess
+you can come in now," he said.  "And you won't need no gun."  The men
+shuffled awkwardly, and finally led by Corliss they filed into the room
+and one by one they stepped to the open door of the bedroom and gazed
+within.  Then they filed out silently.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'll send over some grub," said Corliss as they mounted.  Sundown
+nodded.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The band of riders moved slowly back toward the Concho.  About halfway
+on their homeward journey they met Loring in a buckboard.  The old
+sheep-man drove up and would have passed them without speaking had not
+Corliss reined across the road and halted him.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"One of your herders&mdash;'Sandro&mdash;is over at the water-hole," said
+Corliss.  "If you're headed for Antelope, you might stop by and take
+him along."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Loring glared at the Concho riders, seemed about to speak, but instead
+clucked to his team.  The riders reined out of his way and he swept
+past, gazing straight ahead, grim, silent, and utterly without fear.
+He understood the rancher's brief statement, and he already knew of the
+killing of Sinker.  'Sandro's assistant, becoming frightened, had left
+his wounded companion on the mesas, and had ridden to the Loring rancho
+with the story of the fight and its ending.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap23"></A>
+<H2 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER XXIII
+</H2>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+THE PEACEMAKER
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+"But I ain't no dove&mdash;more like a stork, I guess," reflected Sundown as
+he stood in the doorway of his house.  "And storks brings
+responsibilities in baskets, instead of olive branches.  No wonder ole
+man Noah fired the dove right out ag'in&mdash;bringin' him olives what
+wa'n't pickled, instead of a bunch of grapes or somethin' you can eat!
+And that there dove never come back.  I reckon he figured if he did,
+ole man Noah'd shoot him.  Anyhow, if I ain't no dove of peace, I'm
+goin' to do the best I can.  Everybody 'round here seems like they was
+tryin' to ride right into trouble wishful, 'stead of reinin' to one
+side an' givin' trouble a chance to get past.  Gee Gosh!  If I'd 'a'
+knowed what I know now&mdash;afore I hit this country&mdash;but I'm here.
+Anyhow, they's nothin' wrong with the country.  It's the folks, like it
+'most always is.  Reckon I ought to keep on buildin' fence this
+mornin', but that there peace idea 's got to singin' in me head.  I'll
+jest saddle up Pill and ride over and tell ole man Loring that I'm
+takin' care of his sheep charitable what's been hangin' around here
+since 'Sandro passed over.  Mebby that'll kind o' start the talk.  Then
+I can slip him a couple of ideas 'bout how neighbors ought to act.
+Huh!  Me nussin' them sheep for two weeks and more, an' me just dyin'
+for a leetle taste o' mutton.  Mebby his herders was scared to come for
+'em, I dunno."
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P>
+Sundown was established at the water-hole.  Corliss had sent a team to
+Antelope for provisions, implements, and fencing.  Meanwhile, Sundown
+had been industrious, not alone because he felt the necessity for
+something to occupy his time, but that he wanted to forget the tragedy
+he had so recently witnessed.  And he had dreams of a more
+companionable future which included Mexican dishes served hot, evenings
+of blissful indolence accompanied by melody, and a Seņora who would
+sing "Linda Rosa, Adios!" which would be the "piece de resistance" of
+his pastoral menu.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The "tame cow," which he had so ardently longed for, now grazed
+soulfully in a temporary enclosure out on the mesa.  Two young and
+sprightly black pigs prospected the confines of their littered
+hermitage.  Four gaunt hens and a more or less dilapidated rooster
+stalked about the yard, no longer afraid of the watchful Chance, who
+had previously introduced himself to the rooster without the formality
+of Sundown's presence as mediator.  Sundown was proud of his chickens.
+The cow, however, had been, at first, rather a disappointment to him.
+Milk had not heretofore been a conspicuous portion of Sundown's diet,
+nor was he versed in the art of obtaining it except over the counter in
+tins.  With due formality and some trepidation he had placed a pail
+beneath "Gentle Annie" as he called her, and had waited patiently.  So
+had Gentle Annie, munching a reflective cud, and Sundown, in a
+metaphorical sense, doing likewise.  He had walked around the cow
+inspecting her with an anxious and critical eye.  She seemed healthful
+and voluptuously contented.  Yet no milk came.  Bud Shoop, having at
+that moment arrived with the team, sized up the situation.  When he had
+recovered enough poise to stand without assistance and had wiped the
+wild tears from his eyes, he instructed the amazed Sundown as to
+certain manipulations necessary to produce the desired result.  "Huh!
+Folks says cows <I>give</I> milk.  But I reckon that ain't right," Sundown
+had asserted.  "You got to take it away from 'em."  So he had taken
+what he could, which was not, at first, a great deal.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+This momentous morning he had decided that his unsolicited mission was
+to induce or persuade Loring to arbitrate the question of
+grazing-rights.  It was a strange idea, although not incompatible with
+Sundown's peculiar temperament.  He felt justified in taking the
+initiative; especially in view of the fact that Loring's sheep had been
+trespassing on his property.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He saddled "Pill," and called to Chance.  "See here, Chance, you and
+me's pals.  No, you ain't comin' this trip.  You stick around and keep
+your eye on me stock.  What's mine is yourn exceptin' the rooster.
+Speakin' poetical, he belongs to them hens.  If he ain't here when I
+get back, I can pretty nigh tell by the leavin's where he is.  When I
+git back I look to find you hungry, sabe?  And not sneakin' around
+lookin' at me edgeways with leetle feathers stickin' to your nose.  I
+reckon you understand."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Chance followed his master to the road, and there the dog sat gazing at
+the bobbing figure of Sundown until it was but a speck in the morning
+sunshine.  Then Chance fell to scratching his ear with his hind foot,
+rose and shook himself, and stalked indolently to the yard where he lay
+with his nose along his outstretched fore legs, watching the proscribed
+rooster with an eloquence of expression that illustrated the proverbial
+power of mind over matter.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sundown kept Pill loping steadily.  It was a long ride, but Sundown's
+mind was so preoccupied with the preparing of his proposed appeal to
+the sheep-man that the morning hours and the sunlit miles swept past
+unnoticed.  The dark green of the acacias bordering the hacienda, the
+twinkling white of the speeding windmill, and the dull brown of the
+adobes became distinct and separate colors against the far edge of the
+eastern sky.  He reined his pony to a walk.  "When you're in a hurry to
+do somethin'," he informed his horse, "it ain't always good politics to
+let folks know it.  So we'll ride up easy, like we had money to spend,
+and was jest lookin' over the show-case."  And Pill was not averse to
+the suggestion.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sundown dismounted, opened the gate, and swinging to the saddle, rode
+up to the ranch-house.  Had he known that Anita, the daughter of Chico
+Miguel, was at that moment talking with the wife of one of Loring's
+herders; that she was describing him in glowing terms to her friend,
+and moreover, as he passed up the driveway, that Anita had turned
+swiftly, dropping the pitcher of milk which she had just brought from
+the cooling-room as she saw him, he might well have been excused from
+promulgating his mission of peace with any degree of coherence.
+Sublimely ignorant of her presence,&mdash;spiritualists and sentimentalists
+to the contrary in like instances,&mdash;he rode directly to the hacienda,
+asked for the patron, and was shown to the cool interior of the house
+by the mildly astonished Seņora.  Seņor Loring would return presently.
+Would the gentleman refresh himself by resting until the Seņor
+returned?  Possibly she herself could receive the message&mdash;or the
+Seņorita, who was in the garden?
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Thanks, lady.  I reckon Pill is dry&mdash;wants a drink&mdash;agua&mdash;got a
+thirst.  No, ma'am.  I can wait.  I mean me horse."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh!  Si!  But Juan would attend to the horse and at once."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Thanks, lady.  And if Miss Loring ain't too busy, I reckon I'd like to
+see her a minute."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The Seņora disappeared.  Sundown could hear her call for Juan.
+Presently Nell Loring came to the room, checked an exclamation of
+surprise as she recognized him, and stepping forward, offered her hand.
+"You're from Mr. Corliss.  I remember.&#8230;  Is Chance all right now?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, ma'am.  He is enjoyin' fust-rate health.  He eats reg'lar&mdash;and
+rabbits in between.  But I ain't from the Concho, lady.  I'm from me
+own ranch, down there at the water-hole.  Me boss ain't got nothin' to
+do with me bein' here.  It's me own idea.  I come friendly and wishful
+to make a little talk to your pa."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Wondering what could have induced Sundown to call at her home,
+especially under the existing circumstances, Nell Loring made him
+welcome.  After he had washed and strolled over to the stables to see
+to his horse.  Sundown, returning, declined an invitation to come in,
+and sat on the veranda, smoking cigarettes and making mental note of
+the exterior details of the hacienda: its garden, shade-trees, corrals,
+and windmill.  Should prosperity smile upon him, he would have a
+windmill, be Gosh!  Not a white one&mdash;though white wasn't so bad&mdash;but
+something tasty; red, white and blue, mebby&mdash;a real American windmill,
+and in the front of the house a flagpole with the American flag.  And
+he would keep the sign "American Hotel" above the gate.  There was
+nothin' like bein' paterotic.  Mexican ranches&mdash;some of 'em&mdash;was purty
+enough in a lazy kind of style, but he was goin' to let folks know that
+a white man was runnin' the water-hole ranch!
+</P>
+
+<P>
+And all unknown to him, Anita stood in the doorway of one of the
+herder's 'dobes, more than ever impressed by the evident importance of
+her beau-idéal of chivalry, who took the kick of horses as a matter of
+course, and rose smilingly from such indignities to present flowers to
+her with eyes which spake of love and lips that expressed, as best they
+could, admiration.  Anita was a bit disappointed and perhaps a bit
+pleased that he had not as yet seen her.  As it was she could worship
+from a distance that lent security to her tender embarrassment.  The
+tall one must, indeed, be a great caballero to be made welcome at the
+patron's home.  Assuredly he was not as the other vaqueros who visited
+the patron.  <I>He</I> sat upon the veranda and smoked in a lordly way,
+while they inevitably held forth in the less conspicuous latitude of
+the bunk-house and its environs.  Anita was happy.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sundown, elated by the righteousness of his mission as harbinger of
+peace, met Loring returning from one of the camps with gracious
+indifference to the other's gruff welcome.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+They sat at the table and ate in silence for a while.  With the
+refreshing coffee Sundown's embarrassment melted.  His weird command of
+language, enhanced by the opportunity for exercise in a good cause,
+astonished and eventually interested his hearers.  He did not approach
+his subject directly, but mounted the metaphorical steps of his rostrum
+leisurely.  He discoursed on the opportunities afforded by the almost
+limitless free range.  He hinted at the possibility of internecine
+strife eventually awakening the cupidity of "land-sharks" all over the
+country.  If there was land worth killing folks for, there was land
+worth stealing.  If the Concho Valley was once thrown open to
+homesteaders, then farewell free range and fat cattle and sheep.  And
+the mention of sheep led him to remark that there was a small band at
+the water-hole, uncared-for save by himself.  "And he was no sheep-man,
+but he sure hated to see any critters sufferin' for water, so he had
+allowed the sheep to drink at the water-hole."  Then he paused,
+anticipating the obvious question to which he made answer: "Yes.  The
+water-hole ranch is me ranch.  I filed on her the same day that you and
+Miss Loring come to Usher.  Incondescent to that I was in the calaboose
+at Antelope.  Somebody tole the sheriff that I was a suspicious
+character.  Mebby I am, judgin' from the outside, but inside I ain't.
+You can't always tell what the works is like by the case, I ain't got
+no hard feelin's for nobody, and I'm wishful that folks don't have no
+hard feelin's ag'in' me or anybody else."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Loring listened in silence.  Finally he spoke.  "I'll take care of my
+sheep.  I'll send for 'em to-day.  Looks like you're tryin' to play
+square, but you don't figure in this deal.  Jack Corliss is at the
+bottom of it and he's using you.  And he'll use you hard.  What you
+goin' to do with the overflow from the water-hole?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'm goin' to irrigate me ranch," said Sundown.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Loring nodded.  "And cut off the water from everybody?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not from me friends."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Which means the Concho."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Sure!  Jack Corliss is me friend.  But that ain't all.  If you want to
+be me friend, I ain't kickin' even if you did tell the sheriff he ought
+to git acquainted with me closer.  I'm goin' to speak right out.  I
+reckon it's the best way.  I got a proposition.  If you'll quit sickin'
+them herders onto cowboys and if Jack'll quit settin' the punchers at
+your herders, I'll open up me spring and run her down to where they's
+water for everybody.  If cows comes, they drink.  If sheep comes,
+<I>they</I> drink.  If folks comes, they drink, likewise.  But no fightin'."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sundown as arbiter of peace felt that he had, in truth, "spoken right
+out."  He was not a little surprised at himself and a bit fearful.  Yet
+he felt justified in his suggestion.  Theoretically he had made a fair
+offer.  Practically his offer was of no value.  Sheep and cattle could
+not occupy the same range.  Loring grumbled something and shoved back
+his chair.  They rose and stepped to the veranda.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If you can get Corliss to agree to what you say&mdash;and quit runnin'
+cattle on the water-hole side&mdash;I'll quit runnin' sheep there."  And
+Loring waved his hand toward the north.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But the Concho is on the west side&mdash;" began Sundown.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And cattle are grazin' on the east side," said Loring.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sundown scratched his head.  "I reckon I got to see Jack," he said.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And you'll waste time, at that," said Loring.  "Look here!  Are you
+ranchin' to hold down the water-hole for Corliss or to make a livin'?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sundown hesitated.  He gazed across the yard to the distant mesa.
+Suddenly a figure crossed the pathway to the gate.  He jerked up his
+head and stood with mouth open.  It couldn't be&mdash;but, yes, it was
+Anita&mdash;Linda Rosa!  Gee Gosh!  He turned to Loring.  "I been tellin'
+you the truth," he said simply.  "'Course I got to see me boss, now.
+But it makes no difference what he says, after this.  I'm ranchin' for
+meself, because I'm&mdash;er&mdash;thinkin' of gettin' married."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Without further explanation, Sundown stalked to the stable and got his
+horse.  He came to the hacienda and made his adieux.  Then he mounted
+and rode slowly down the roadway toward the gate.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Anita's curiosity had overcome her timidity.  Quite accidentally she
+stood toying with a bud that she had picked from the flower-bordered
+roadway.  She turned as Sundown jingled up and met him with a murmur of
+surprise and pleasure.  He swung from his horse hat in hand and
+advanced, bowing.  Anita flushed and gazed at the ground.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"'Mornin', Seņorita!  I sure am jest hoppin' glad to see you ag'in.  If
+I'd 'a' knowed you was here&#8230;  But I come on business&mdash;important.
+Reckon you're visitin' friends, eh?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Si, Seņor!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do you come here reg'lar?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Only to see the good aunt sometimes."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Uhuh.  I kind of wish your aunt was hangin' out at the Concho, though.
+This here ain't a reg'lar stoppin'-place for me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You go away?" queried Anita.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I reckon I got to after what I said up there to the house.  Yes, I'm
+goin' back to feed me pigs and Chance and the hens.  I set up
+housekeepin' since I seen you.  Got a ranch of me own&mdash;that I was
+tellin' you about.  You ought to see it!  Some class!  But it's mighty
+lonely, evenin's."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Anita sighed and glanced at Sundown.  Then her gaze dwelt on the bud
+she held.  "Si, Seņor&mdash;it is lonely in the evenings," she said, and
+although she spoke in Spanish, Sundown did not misunderstand.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He grinned hugely.  "You sure don't need to talk American to tell it,"
+he said as one who had just made a portentous discovery.  "It was
+worryin' me how we was goin' to get along&mdash;me short on the Spanish and
+you short on my talk.  But I reckon we'll get along fine.  Your pa in
+good health, and your ma?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Anita nodded shyly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sundown was at a loss to continue this pleasant conversation.  He
+brightened, however, as a thought inspired him.  "And the leetle hoss,
+is he doin' well?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That Sarko I do not like that he should keeck you!" flamed Anita, and
+Sundown's cup of happiness was full to overflowing.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Quite unconsciously he was leading his horse toward the gate and quite
+unconsciously Anita was walking beside him.  Forgotten was the Loring
+ranch, the Concho, his own homestead.  He was with his inamorata, the
+"Linda Rosa" of his dreams.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+At the gateway he turned to her.  "I'm comin' over to see your folks
+soon as I git things to runnin' on me ranch.  Keeps a fella busy, but
+I'm sure comin'.  I ain't got posies to growin' yet, but I'm goin' to
+have some&mdash;like them," and he indicated the bud which she held.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You like it?" she queried.  And with bashful gesture she gave him the
+rose, smiling as he immediately stuck it in the band of his sombrero.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Then he held out his hand.  "Linda Rosa," he said gently, "I can't make
+the big talk in the Spanish lingo or I'd say how I was lovin' you and
+thinkin' of you reg'lar and deep.  'Course I got to put your pa and ma
+wise first.  But some day I'm comin'&mdash;me and Chance&mdash;and tell you that
+I'm ready&mdash;that me ranch is doin' fine, and that I sure want you to
+come over and boss the outfit.  I used to reckon that I didn't want no
+woman around bossin' things, but I changed me mind.  Adios!
+Seņorita!&mdash;for I sure got to feed them hens."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sundown extended his hand.  Anita laid her own plump brown hand in
+Sundown's hairy paw.  For an instant he hesitated, moved by a most
+natural impulse to kiss her.  Her girlish face, innocently sweet and
+trusting, her big brown eyes glowing with admiration and wonder, as she
+gazed up at him, offered temptation and excuse enough.  It was not
+timidity nor lack of opportunity that caused Sundown to hesitate, but
+rather that innate respect for women which distinguishes the gentle man
+from the slovenly generalization "gentleman."  "Adios! Linda Rosa!" he
+murmured, and stooping, kissed her brown fingers.  Then he gestured
+with magnificence toward the flowers bordering the roadway.  "And you
+sure are the lindaest little Linda Rosa of the bunch!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+And Anita's heart was filled with happiness as she watched her brave
+caballero ride away, so tall, so straight, and of such the gentle
+manner and the royal air!
+</P>
+
+<P>
+It was inevitable that he should turn and wave to her, but it was not
+inevitable that she should have thrown him a pretty kiss with the grace
+of her pent-up emotion&mdash;but she did.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap24"></A>
+<H2 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER XXIV
+</H2>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+AN UNEXPECTED VISIT
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+It was late in the evening when Sundown returned to his ranch.  Chance
+welcomed him with vocal and gymnastic abandon.  Sundown hastened to his
+"tame cow" and milked her while the four hens peeped and clucked from
+their roost, evidently disturbed by the light of the lantern.
+Meanwhile Chance lay gravely watching his master until Gentle Annie had
+been relieved of the full and creamy quota of her donation to the
+maintenance of the household.  Then the wolf-dog followed his master to
+the kitchen where they enjoyed, in separate dishes, Gentle Annie's warm
+contribution, together with broken bread and "a leetle salt to bring
+out the gamey flavor."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Solicitous of the welfare of his stock, as he termed them, he betook
+himself to the hen-house to feed the chickens.  "Huh!" he exclaimed,
+raising the lantern and peering round, "there's one rooster missin'!"
+<I>The</I> rooster had in truth disappeared.  He put down the lantern and
+turned to Chance.  "Lemme look at your mouth.  No, they ain't no signs
+on you.  Hold on!  Be Gosh, if they ain't some leetle red hairs
+stickin' to your chops.  What's the answer?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Chance whined and wagged his tail.  "You don't look like you was
+guilty.  And that there rooster wasn't sportin' red hair the last time
+I seen him.  Did you eat him fust and then swaller a rabbit to cover
+his tracks?  I reckon not.  You're some dog&mdash;but you ain't got
+boiler-room for a full-size Rhode Island Red and a rabbit and two
+quarts of bread-and-milk.  It ain't reas'nable.  I got to investigate."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The dog seemed to understand.  He leaped up and trotted to the yard,
+turning his head and silently coaxing his master to follow him.
+Sundown, with a childish and most natural faith in Chance's
+intelligence, followed him to the fence, scrambled through and trailed
+him out on the mesa.  In a little hollow Chance stopped and stood with
+crooked fore leg.  Sundown stalked up.  At his feet fluttered his red
+rooster and not far from it lay the body of a full-grown coyote.
+Chance ran to the coyote and diving in shook the inanimate shape and
+growled.  "Huh!  Showin' me what you done to him for stealin' our
+rooster, eh?  Well, you sure are goin' to get suthin' extra for this!
+You caught him with the goods&mdash;looks like.  And look here!"&mdash;and
+Sundown deposited the lantern on a knoll and sat down facing the dog.
+"What I'm goin' to give you that extra for ain't for killin' the
+coyote.  That is your business when I ain't to home.  You could 'a'
+finished off Jimmy"&mdash;and he gestured toward the rooster&mdash;"and the
+evidence would 'a' been in your favor, seein' as you was wise to show
+me the coyote.  I got some candy put by for&mdash;for later, if she likes
+it, but we're goin' to bust open that box of candy and celebrate.  Got
+to see if I can repair Jimmy fust, though, or else use the axe.  I
+dunno."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Jimmy was a sad spectacle.  His tail-feathers were about gone and one
+leg was maimed, yet he still showed the fighting spirit of his New
+England sires, for, as Sundown essayed to pick him up, he pecked and
+squawked energetically.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+They returned to the house, where Sundown examined the bedraggled bird
+critically.  "I ain't no doc, but I have been practiced on some meself.
+Looks like his left kicker was bruk.  Guess it's the splints for him
+and nussin' by hand.  Here, you!  Let go that button!  That ain't a
+bug!  There!  'T ain't what you'd call a perfessional job, but if you
+jest quit runnin' around nights and take care of your health, mebby
+you'll come through.  Don' know what them hens'll think, though.  You
+sure ain't no Anner Dominus no more.  If you was a lady hen, you could
+pertend you was wearin' evenin' dress like&mdash;low-neck and suspenders.
+But bein' a he, 't ain't the style.  Wonder if you got your crow left?
+You ain't got a whole lot more to tell you from jest a hen."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+With Jimmy installed in a box of straw in the kitchen, the pigs fed,
+and Gentle Annie grazing contentedly, Sundown felt able to relax.  It
+had been a strenuous day for him.  He drew a chair to the stove, and
+before he sat down he brought forth from beneath the bed a highly
+colored cardboard box on which was embossed a ribbon of blue sealed
+with a gold paster-seal.  Chance watched him gravely.  It was a
+ceremony.  Sundown opened the box and picking out a chocolate held it
+up that Chance might realize fully that it was a ceremony.  The dog's
+nose twitched and he licked his chops.  "Tastes good a'ready, eh?
+Well, it's yourn."  And he solemnly gave Chance the chocolate.  "Gee
+Gosh!  What'd you do with it?  That ain't no way to eat candy!  You
+want to chew her slow and kind o' hang on till she ain't there.  Then
+you get your money's worth.  Want another?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Later Sundown essayed to smoke, but found the flavor of chocolate
+incompatible with the enjoyment of tobacco.  Chance dozed by the fire,
+and Jimmy, with neck stretched above the edge of the box, watched
+Sundown with beady, blinking eyes.
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P>
+Sundown slept late next morning.  The lowing of Gentle Annie as she
+mildly endeavored to make it known that milking-time was past, the
+muffled grunting of the two pigs as they rooted in the mud or poked
+flat flexible noses through the bars, the restless padding of Chance to
+and from the bedroom, merely harmonized in chorus with audible slumbers
+until one of the hens cackled.  Then Jimmy, from his box near the
+stove, lifted his clarion shrill in reply to the hen.  Sundown sat up,
+scratched his ear, and arose.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He was returning from a practice of five-finger exercise on Gentle
+Annie, busy with his thoughts and the balance of the pail, when a shout
+brought his gaze to the road.  John Corliss and Bud Shoop waved him
+greeting, and dismounting led their horses to the yard.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Saves me a ride," muttered Sundown.  Then, "How, folks!  Come right
+in!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He noticed that the ponies seemed tired&mdash;that the cinchas were
+mud-spattered and that the riders seemed weary.  He invited his guests
+to breakfast.  After the meal the three foregathered outside the house.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That was right good beef you fed us," remarked Shoop, slightly raising
+one eyebrow as Corliss glanced at him.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The best in the country," cheerfully assented Sundown.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How you making it, Sun?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Me?  Oh, I'm wigglin' along.  Come home last night and found Jimmy
+with his leg bruk.  Everything else was all right."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Jimmy?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Uhuh.  Me rooster."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Coyote grab him?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Uhuh.  And Chance fixed Mr. Coyote.  I was to Loring's yesterday on
+business."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Shoop glanced at Corliss who had thus far remained silent.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We had a little business to talk over," said the rancher.  "You're
+located now.  I'm going to run some cattle down this way next week.
+Some of mine and some of the Two-Bar-O."  Corliss, who had been
+standing, stepped to the doorway and sat down.  Shoop and Sundown
+followed him and lay outstretched on the warm earth.  "Funny thing,
+Bud, about that Two-Bar-O steer we found cut up."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Sure was," said Shoop.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Did he get in a fence?" queried Sundown.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No.  He was killed for beef.  We ran across him yesterday and did some
+looking around last night.  Trailed over this way to have a talk."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'm right glad to see you.  I wanted to speak a little piece meself
+after you get through."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"All right.  Here's the story."  And Corliss gazed across the mesa for
+a moment.  "The South Spring's gone dry.  The fork is so low that only
+a dozen head can drink at once.  It's been a mighty dry year, and the
+river is about played out except in the caņon, and the stock can't get
+to the water there.  This is about the only natural supply outside the
+ranch.  I want to put a couple of men in here and ditch to that hollow
+over there.  It'll take about all your water, but we got to have it.  I
+want you to put in a gas-engine and pump for us.  Maybe we'll have to
+pipe to tanks before we get through.  I'll give you fifty a month to
+run the engine."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'll sure keep that leetle ole gas-engine coughin' regular," said
+Sundown.  "I was thinkin' of somethin' like that meself.  You see I
+seen Loring yesterday.  I told him that anybody that was wishful could
+water stock here so long as she held out&mdash;except there was to be no
+shootin' and killin', and the like.  Ole man Loring says to tell you
+what I told him and see what you said.  I reckon he'll take his sheep
+out of here if you folks'll take your cattle off the east side.  I
+ain't playin' no favorites.  You been my friend&mdash;you and Bud.  You come
+and make me a proposition to pump water for you&mdash;and the fifty a month
+is for the water.  That's business.  Loring ain't said nothin' about
+buyin' water from me, so you get it.  You see I was kind of figurin'
+somethin' like this when I first come to this here place&mdash;'way back
+when I met you that evenin'.  Says I to meself, 'a fella couldn't even
+raise robins on this here farm, but from the looks of that water-hole
+he could raise water, and folks sure got to have water in this
+country.'  I was thinkin' of irrigatin' and raisin' alfalfa and
+veg'tables, but fifty a month sounds good to me.  Bein' a puncher
+meself, I ain't got no use for sheep, but I was willin' to give ole man
+Loring a chance.  If the mesas is goin' dry on the east side, what's he
+goin' to do?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't know, Sun.  He's got a card up his sleeve, and you want to
+stay right on the job.  Bud here got a tip in Antelope that a bunch of
+Mexicans came in last week from Loring's old ranch in New Mexico.  Some
+of 'em are herders and some of 'em are worse.  I reckon he'll try to
+push his sheep across and take up around here.  He'll try it at night.
+If he does and you get on to it before we do, just saddle Pill and fan
+it for the Concho."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Gee Gosh!  But that means more fightin'!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Shoop and Corliss said nothing.  Sundown gazed at them questioningly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Presently Corliss gestured toward the south.  "They'll make it
+interesting for you.  Loring's an old-timer and he won't quit.  This
+thing won't be settled until something happens&mdash;and I reckon it's going
+to happen soon."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, I'm sure sittin' on the dynamite," said Sundown lugubriously.
+"I reckoned to settle down and git m&mdash;me farm to goin' and keep out of
+trouble.  Now it looks like I was the cat what fell out of a tree into
+a dog-fight by mistake.  They was nothin' left of that cat."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Shoop laughed.  "We'll see that you come out all right."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sundown accepted this meager consolation with a grimace.  Then his face
+beamed.  "Say!  What's the matter of me tellin' the sheriff that
+there's like to be doin's&mdash;and mebby he could come over and kind of
+scare 'em off."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The idea is all right, Sun.  But Jim is a married man.  Most of his
+deputies are married.  If it comes to a mix some of 'em 'd get it sure.
+Now there isn't a married man on the Concho&mdash;which makes a lot of
+difference.  Sabe?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I reckon that's right," admitted Sundown, "Killin' a married man is
+like killin' the whole fambly."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And you're a single man&mdash;so you're all right," said Shoop.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Gee Gosh!  Mebby that ought to make me feel good, but it don't.
+Supposin' a fella was goin' to get married?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then&mdash;he'd&mdash;better wait," said Corliss, smiling at his foreman.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss stood up and yawned.  "Oh, say, Sun, where'd you get that
+beef?" he asked casually.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The beef?  Why, a Chola come along here day afore yesterday and say if
+I wanted some meat.  I says yes.  Then he rides off and purty soon he
+comes back with a hind-quarter on his saddle.  I give him two dollars
+for it.  It looked kind of funny, but I thought he was mebby campin'
+out there somewhere and peddlin' meat."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Shoop and Corliss glanced at each other.  "They don't peddle meat that
+way in this country, Sun.  What did the Mexican look like?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Kind of fat and greasy-like, and he was as cross-eyed as a rabbit
+watchin' two dogs to onct."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That so?  Let's have a look at that hind-quarter."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Sure!  Over there in the well-shed."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+When Corliss returned, he nodded to Shoop.  Then he turned to Sundown.
+"We found a Two-Bar-O steer killed right close to here yesterday.
+Looks queer.  Well, we'll be fanning it.  I'll send to Antelope and
+have them order the pump and some pipe.  Got plenty of grub?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Plenty 'nough for a couple of weeks."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"All right.  So-long.  Keep your eye on things."
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap25"></A>
+<H2 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER XXV
+</H2>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+VAMOSE, EH?
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+The intermittent popping of the gasoline engine, as it forced water to
+the big, unpainted tank near the water-hole, became at first monotonous
+and finally irritating.  Sundown, clad in oil-spotted overalls that did
+not by many inches conceal his riding-boots and his Spanish spurs,
+puttered about the engine until he happened to glance at the distant
+tank.  A silvery rill of water was pouring from the top of the tank.
+He shut off the engine, wiped his hands, and strode to the house.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He was gone a long time, so long in fact that Chance decided to
+investigate.  The dog got up, stretched lazily, and padded to the
+doorway.  He could hear Sundown muttering and shuffling about in the
+bedroom.  Chance stalked in quietly and stood gazing at his master.
+Sundown had evidently been taking a bath,&mdash;not in the pail of water
+that stood near him, but obviously round and about it.  At the moment
+he was engaged in tying a knot in the silk bandanna about his neck.
+Chance became animated.  His master was going somewhere!  Sundown
+turned his head, glancing at the dog with a preoccupied eye.  The knot
+adjusted to his satisfaction, he knelt and drew a large box from
+beneath the bed.  From the box he took an immaculate and exceedingly
+wide-brimmed Stetson with an exceedingly high crown.  He dented the
+crown until the hat had that rakish appearance dear to the heart of the
+cowboy.  Then he took the foot-square looking-glass from the wall and
+studied the effect at various and more or less unsatisfactory angles.
+Again he knelt&mdash;after depositing the hat on the bed&mdash;and emerged with a
+pair of gorgeous leather chaps that glittered with the polished silver
+of conchas from waist-band to heel.  Next he drew on a pair of
+elaborate gauntlets embellished with hand-worked silk roses of crimson.
+Then he glanced at his boots.  They were undoubtedly serviceable, but
+more or less muddy and stained.  That wouldn't do at all!  Striding to
+the kitchen he poked about and finally unearthed a box of stove-polish
+that he had purchased and laid away for future use against that happy
+time when stove-polish would be doubly appreciated.  The metallic
+luster of his boots was not altogether satisfactory, but it would do.
+"This here bein' chief engineer of a popcorn machine ain't what it's
+said to be in the perspectus.  Gets a fella lookin' greasy and feelin'
+greasy, but the pay kind of makes up for it.  Me first month's wages
+blowed in for outside decoratin'&mdash;but I reckon the grub'll hold out for
+a spell."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Then he strode from the house and made his rounds, inspecting the pigs,
+shooing the chickens to their coop, and finally making a short
+pilgrimage to where Gentle Annie was grazing.  After he had saddled
+"Pill," he returned to the house and reappeared with a piece of
+wrapping-paper on which he had printed:&mdash;
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P CLASS="noindent">
+Help yourself to grub&mdash;but no fighting on thees premisus.
+</P>
+
+<P CLASS="noindent">
+SUNDOWN, Propriter.
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P>
+"It's all right trustin' folks," he remarked as he gazed proudly at the
+sign and still more proudly at the signature.  "And I sure hate to put
+up anything that looks kind of religious, but these days I don't trust
+nobody but meself, and I sure have a hard time doin' that, knowin' how
+crooked I could be if I tried."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He gathered up the reins and mounted Pill.  "Come on, Chance!" he
+called.  "We don't need any rooster-police to-day.  Jimmy's in there
+talkin' to his hens, and like as not cussin' because I shet him up.
+And he sure ought to be glad he ain't goin' on crutches."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He rode out to the mesa and, turning from the trail, took as direct a
+course as he could approximate for the home of Chico Miguel, and
+incidentally Anita.  His mission would have been obvious to an utter
+stranger.  He shone and glistened from head to heel&mdash;his face with the
+inner light of anticipation and his boots with the effulgence of
+hastily applied stove-polish.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He rode slowly, for he wished to collect himself, that his errand might
+have all the grace of a chance visit and yet not lack the most
+essential significance.  He did not stop to reason that Anita's father
+and mother were anything but blind.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The day was exceptionally hot.  The sun burned steadily on the ripening
+bunch-grass.  His pony's feet swept aside bright flowers that tilted
+their faces eagerly like the faces of questioning children.  He glanced
+at his watch.  "Got to move along, Pill.  Reckon we'll risk havin'
+somethin' to say when we get there&mdash;and not cook her up goin' along.
+It sure is hot.  Huh!  That there butte over there looks jest like a
+city athletic club with muscles all on its front of fellas wrastlin'
+and throwin' things at themselves.  Wisht I had a big lookin'-glass so
+I could see meself comin'.  Gee Gosh, but she's hot!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He put the horse to a lope, and with the subdued rhythm of the pony's
+feet came Euterpe with a song.  Recitation of verse at a lope is apt to
+be punctuated according to the physical contour of the ground:&mdash;
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P CLASS="poem">
+"In the Pull&mdash;man <I>car</I> with turnin' <I>fans</I>,<BR>
+The desert <I>looks</I> like a lovely p&mdash;<I>lace</I>.<BR>
+But crossin' a<I>lone</I> on the <I>burn</I>in' sands,<BR>
+She's hell, with a <I>grin</I> on her face."
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P>
+"Got to slow up to get that right," he said, "or jest stop an' git off.
+But we ain't got time.  'Oh, down in Arizona there's a&#8230;'  No.  I
+reckon I won't.  I want to sing, but I can't take no risks."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+That "the Colonel's lady and Julie O'Grady are sisters under their
+skins," is not to be doubted.  That Romeo and Sundown are brothers,
+with the odds slightly in favor of Sundown, is apparent to those who
+have been, are, or are willing to be, in love.  "Will this plume, these
+trunks and hose, this bonnet please my fair Juliet?" sighs Romeo to his
+mirror.  And "Will these here chaps and me bandanna and me new Stetson
+make a hit with me leetle Anita?" asks Sundown of the mesas.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+That the little Anita was pleased, nay, overwhelmed by the arrival of
+her gorgeous caballero was more than apparent to the anxious Sundown.
+She came running to the gate and stood with clasped hands while he
+bowed for the seventh time and slowly dismounted, giving his leg an
+unnecessary shake that the full effect of spur and concha might not be
+lost.  He felt the high importance of his visit, and Anita also
+surmised that something unusual was about to happen.  He strode
+magnificently to the house and again doffed his Stetson to the
+astonished and smiling Seņora.  Evidently the strange vaquero had met
+with fortune.  With experienced eye the mother of Anita swiftly
+estimated the monetary outlay necessary to possess such an equipment.
+It was well to be courted, of that she was reminiscently certain.  Yet
+it was also well to be courted by one who bore the earmarks&mdash;so to
+speak&mdash;of prosperity.  Sundown was made heartily welcome.  After they
+had had dinner,&mdash;Chico Miguel would return at night as usual,&mdash;Sundown
+mentally besought his stars to aid him, lend him eloquence and the
+Seņora understanding, and found excuse to follow the Seņora to the
+kitchen where he offered to wipe the dishes.  This she would not hear
+of, but being wise in her generation she dismissed Anita on a trivial
+errand and motioned her guest to a seat.  What was said is a matter of
+interest only to those immediately concerned.  Love is his own
+interpreter and labors willingly, yet in this instance his limitations
+must be excused by the result.  The Seņora and Sundown came to a
+perfect understanding.  The cabellero was welcome to make the state of
+his heart known to Anita.  As for her father, she&mdash;the Seņora&mdash;would
+attend to him.  And was Sundown fond of the tortillas?  He was, be
+Gosh!  It was well.  They would have tortillas that evening.  Chico
+Miguel was especially fond of the tortillas.  They made him of the
+pleasant disposition and induced him to tune the big guitar.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The Seņora would take her siesta.  Possibly her guest would smoke and
+entertain Anita with news from the Concho and of the Patron Loring and
+of his own rancho.  Anita was not of what you say the kind to do the
+much talking, but she had a heart.  Of that the Seņora had reason to be
+assured.  Had not Anita gone, each day, to the gate and stood gazing
+down the road?  Surely there was nothing to see save the mesas.  Had
+she not begged to be allowed to visit the Loring hacienda not of so
+very long time past?  And Anita had not been to the Loring hacienda for
+a year or more.  Such things were significant.  And the Seņora gestured
+toward her own bosom, implying that she of a surety knew from which
+quarter the south wind blew.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+All of which delighted the already joyous Sundown.  He saw before him a
+flower-bordered pathway to his happiness, and incidentally, as he gazed
+down the pathway toward the gate of Chico Miguel's homestead, he saw
+Anita standing pensively beneath the shade of an acacia, pulling a
+flower to pieces and casting quick glances at the house.  "Good-night,
+Seņora,&mdash;I mean&mdash;er&mdash;here's hopin' you have a good sleep.  It sure is
+refreshin' this hot weather."  The Seņora nodded and disappeared in the
+bedroom.  Sundown strode jingling down the pathway, a brave figure in
+his glittering chaps and tinkling spurs.  Anita's eyes were hidden
+beneath her long black lashes.  Perhaps she had anticipated something
+of that which followed&mdash;perhaps she anticipated even more.  In any
+event, Sundown was not a disappointment.  He asked her to sit beside
+him beneath the acacia.  Then he took her hand and squeezed it.  "Let's
+jest sit here and look out at them there mesas dancin' in the sun; and
+say, 'Nita, let's jest say nothin' for a spell.  I'm so right down
+happy that suthin' hurts me throat."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+When Chico Miguel returned in the dusk of evening, humming a song of
+the herd, he was not a little surprised to find that Anita was absent.
+He questioned the Seņora, who smiled as she bustled about the table.
+"Tortillas," she said, and was gratified at the change in Chico
+Miguel's expression.  Then she explained the presence of the broad new
+Stetson that lay on a chair, adding a gesture toward the gateway.  "It
+is the tall one and our daughter&mdash;he of the grand manner and the sad
+countenance.  It is possible that a new home will be thought of for
+Anita."  There had been conversations that afternoon with the tall
+caballero and understandings.  Chico Miguel was to wash himself and put
+on his black suit.  It was an event&mdash;and there were tortillas.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Chico Miguel wondered why the hour of eating had been so long past.  To
+which the Seņora replied that he had just arrived, and, moreover, that
+she had already called to Anita this the third time, yet had had no
+response.  Chico Miguel moved toward the doorway, but his wife laid her
+hand on his arm.  "It is that you take the big guitar and play the
+'Linda Rosa, Adios.'  Then, to be sure, they will hear and the supper
+will not grow cold."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Grumblingly Chico Miguel took his guitar and struck the opening chords
+of the song.  Presently up the pathway came two shadowy figures, close
+together and seemingly in no haste.  As they entered the house, Sundown
+apologized for having delayed supper, stating that he had been so
+interested in discussing with Anita the "best breed of chickens to
+raise for eggs," that other things had for the nonce not occupied his
+attention.  "And we're sure walkin' on music," he added.  "Jest
+steppin' along on the notes of that there song.  I reckon I got to get
+one of them leetle potato-bug mandolins and learn to tickle its neck.
+There's nothin' like music&mdash;exceptin'"&mdash;and he glanced at the blushing
+Anita&mdash;"exceptin' ranchin'."
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P>
+It was late when Sundown finally departed, He grew anxious as he rode
+across the mesas, wondering if he had not taken advantage, as it were,
+of Gentle Annie's good nature, and whether or not the chickens were
+very hungry.  Chance plodded beside him, a vague shadow in the
+starlight.  The going was more or less rough and Pill dodged many
+gopher-holes, to the peril of his rider's equilibrium.  Yet Sundown was
+glad that it was night.  There was nothing to divert him from the
+golden dreams of the future.  He felt that success, as he put it, "was
+hangin' around the door whinin' to be let in."  He formulated a creed
+for himself and told the stars.  "I believe in meself&mdash;you bet."  Yet
+he was honest with his soul.  "I know more about everything and less
+about anything than anybody&mdash;exceptin' po'try and cookin'.  But gettin'
+along ain't jest what you know.  It's more like what you do.  They's
+fellas knows more than I could learn in four thousand eight hundred and
+seventy-six years, but that don't help 'em get along none.  It's what
+you know inside what counts."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He lapsed into silence and slouched in the saddle.  Presently he
+nodded, recovered, and nodded again.  He would not wittingly have gone
+to sleep in the saddle, being as yet too unaccustomed to riding to
+relax to that extent.  But sleep had something to say anent the matter.
+He dozed, clasping the saddle-horn instinctively.  Pill plodded along
+patiently.  The east grew gray, then rose-pink, then golden.  The horse
+lifted its head and quickened pace.  Sundown swayed and nodded.
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P>
+His uneasy slumber was broken by an explosive bark from Chance.
+Sundown straightened and rubbed his eyes.  Before him lay the
+ranch-house, glittering in the sun.  Out on the mesa grazed a herd of
+sheep and past them another and another.  Again he rubbed his eyes.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Then he distinguished several saddle-horses tied to the fence
+surrounding the water-hole and there were figures of men walking to and
+from his house, many of them.  He set spur to Pill and loped up to the
+fence.  A Mexican with a hard, lined face stepped up to him.  "You
+vamose!" he said, pointing down the road.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sundown stared at the men about the yard.  Among them he recognized
+several of Loring's herders, armed and evidently equipped with horses,
+for they were booted and spurred.  He pushed back his hat.  "Vamose,
+eh?  I'll be damned if I do."
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap26"></A>
+<H2 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER XXVI
+</H2>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+THE INVADERS
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+The Mexican whipped his gun out and covered Sundown, who wisely put up
+his hands.  Two of the men crawled through the fence, secured Sundown's
+horse, and ordered him to dismount.  Before both feet had touched the
+ground one of the Mexicans had snatched Sundown's gun from its holster.
+Chance leaped at the Mexican, but Sundown's "Here, Chance!" brought the
+dog growling to his master.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+At that moment Loring stepped from the house, and shouldering aside the
+men strode up to Sundown.  The sheep-man was about to speak when the
+tall one raised his arm and shook his fist in Loring's face.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Fer two pins I'd jump you and stomp the gizzard out of you, you
+low-down, dried-up, whisker-faced, mutton-eatin' butcher, you!  I goes
+to you and makes you a square offer and you come pussy-footin' in and
+steals me ranch when I ain't there!  If Jack Corliss don't run you
+plumb off the edge afore to-morrow night, I'll sure see if there's any
+law&mdash;" and Sundown paused for lack of breath.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Law?  Mebby you think you got somethin' to say about this here
+water-hole, and mebby not," said Loring.  "Don't get het up.  I come to
+this country before you knew it was here.  And for law&mdash;I reckon seein'
+you're wanted by the law that them papers of yourn is good for startin'
+a fire&mdash;and nothin' more.  The <I>law</I> says that no man wanted by the law
+kin homestead.  The water-hole is open to the fust man that wants it
+and I'm the fust.  Now mebby you can think that over and cool off."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sundown was taken aback.  Though unversed in the intricacies of the
+law, he was sensible enough to realize that Loring was right.  Yet he
+held tenaciously to his attitude of proprietor of the water-hole.  It
+was his home&mdash;the only home that he had known in his variegated career.
+The fact that he was not guilty buoyed him up, however.  He decided
+that discretion had its uses.  As his first anger evaporated, he cast
+about for a plan whereby to notify Corliss of the invasion of the
+water-hole ranch.  His glance wandered to Chance.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Then he raised his eyes.  "Well, now the fireworks is burned down, what
+you goin' to do?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Loring gestured toward the house.  "That's my business.  But you can
+turn in and cook grub for the men.  That'll keep you from thinkin' too
+hard, and we're like to be busy."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then you're takin' me prisoner?" queried Sundown.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That's correc'."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How about the law of that?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"This outfit's makin' its own laws these days," said Loring.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+And so far as Loring was concerned that ended the argument.  Not so,
+however, with Sundown.  He said nothing.  Had Loring known him better,
+that fact would have caused him to suspect his prisoner.  With evident
+meekness the tall one entered the house and gazed with disconsolate
+eyes at the piled kyacks of provisions, the tarpaulins and sheepskins.
+His citadel of dreams had been rudely invaded, in truth.  He was not so
+much angered by the possible effects of the invasion as by the fact.
+Gentle Annie was lowing plaintively.  The chickens were scurrying about
+the yard, cackling hysterically as they dodged this and that herder.
+The two pigs, Sundown reflected consolingly, seemed happy enough.
+Loring, standing in the doorway, pointed to the stove.  "Get busy," he
+said tersely.  That was the last straw.  Silently Sundown stalked to
+the stove, rolled up his sleeves, and went to work.  If there were not
+a score of mighty sick herders that night, it would not be his fault.
+He had determined on a bloodless but effective victory, wherein soda
+and cream-of-tartar should be the victors.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Soda and cream-of-tartar in proper proportions is harmless.  But double
+the proportion of cream-of-tartar and the result is internal riot.
+"And a leetle spice to kill the bitter of the taste ought to work all
+right," he soliloquized.  Then he remembered Chance.  Loring had left
+to oversee the establishment of an outlying camp.  The Mexican who
+assisted Sundown seemed stupid and sullen.  Sundown found excuse to
+enter his bedroom, where he hastily scrawled a note to Corliss.  Later
+he tied the note to the inside of the dog's collar.  The next thing was
+to get Chance started on the road to the Concho.  He rolled down his
+sleeves and strolled to the doorway.  A Mexican sat smoking and
+watching the road.  Sundown stepped past him and began to tinker with
+the gas-engine.  Chance stood watching him.  Presently the gas-engine
+started with a cough and splutter.  Sundown walked to the door and
+seemed about to enter when the Mexican called to him and pointed toward
+the distant tank.  Water was pouring over its rim.  "Gee Gosh!"
+exclaimed Sundown.  "I got to shut her off."  He ran to the engine and
+its sound ceased.  Yet the water still poured from the rim of the tank.
+"Got to fix that!" he asserted, and started toward the tank.  The
+Mexican followed him to the fence.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You come back?" he queried significantly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Sure thing!  I ain't got a hoss, have I?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The Mexican nodded.  Sundown crawled through the fence and strode
+slowly to the tank.  He pretended to examine it first in view of the
+house and finally on the opposite side.  As Chance sniffed along the
+bottom of the tank, Sundown spoke to him.  The dog's ears pricked
+forward.  Sundown's tone suggested action.  "Here, Chance,&mdash;you fan it
+for the Concho&mdash;Jack&mdash;the boss.  Beat it for all you're worth.  The
+Concho!  Sabe?"  And he patted the dog's head and pointed toward the
+south.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Chance hesitated, leaping up and whining.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That's all right, pardner.  They ain't nothin' goin' to happen to me.
+You go!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Chance trotted off a few yards and then turned his head inquiringly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That's right.  Keep a-goin'.  It's your stunt this time."  And Sundown
+waved his arm.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The return of Sundown without the dog occasioned no suspicion on the
+Mexican's part.  He most naturally thought, if he considered the fact
+at all, that the dog was hunting the mesas.  Then Sundown entered the
+house and experimented with soda and cream-of-tartar as though he were
+concocting a high explosive with proportions of the ingredients
+calculated to produce the most satisfactory results.  His plan,
+however, was nipped in the bud.  That night the herders refused to eat
+the biscuits after tasting them.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Hi Wingle, coming from the bunk-house, wiped his hands on his apron,
+rolled a cigarette, and squatted in the shade.  From within came the
+clatter of knives and forks and the rattle of dishes.  The riders of
+the Concho were about through dinner.  Wingle, gazing down the road,
+suddenly cast his cigarette away and rose.  The road seemed empty save
+for a lean brown shape that raced toward the Concho with sweeping
+stride.  "It's the dog.  Wonder what's up now?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Chance, his muzzle specked with froth and his tongue lolling, swung
+into the yard and trotted to Wingle.  "Boss git piled ag'in?" queried
+the cook, patting Chance's head.  "What you scratchin' about?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The dog lay panting and occasionally pawing at his collar.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What's the matter?  Cockle-burr?"  And Wingle ran his fingers under
+the collar.  "So?  Playin' mail-man, eh?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He spread out the note and read it.  Slowly he straightened up and
+slowly he walked to the bunk-house.  "No.  Guess I'll tell Jack first."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He strode to the office and laid the note on Corliss's desk.  The
+rancher, busy running up totals on the pay-roll, glanced at the
+sweat-stained piece of paper.  He read it and pushed it from him.  "All
+right, Hi."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Wingle hesitated, then stepped out and over to the bunk-house.  "Takes
+it mighty cool!  Wonder what he's got up his sleeve.  Somethin'&mdash;sure!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss studied the note.  Then he reached for paper and envelopes and
+wrote busily.  One of the letters was to the sheriff in Antelope.  It
+was brief.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+</P>
+
+<P>
+I'm going to push a bunch of stock over to the water-hole range.  My
+boys have instructions not to shoot.  That's the best I can do for them
+and the other side.        JOHN CORLISS.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The other letter was to Nell Loring.  Then he rose and buckled on his
+gun.  At the bunk-house he gave the letters to Lone Johnny, who saddled
+and departed immediately.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Without making the contents of the note known, he told the men that
+they would join Bud Shoop and his outfit at the Knoll and push the herd
+north.  Later he took Wingle aside and told him that he could stay and
+look after the rancho.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The indignant Hi rolled down his sleeves, spat, and glared at Corliss.
+"I quit," he snapped.  "You can hire a new cook."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Despite his preoccupation Corliss smiled.  "All right, Hi.  Now that
+you're out of a job, you might saddle up and ride with us.  We'll need
+some one to keep us good-natured, I reckon."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Now you're whistlin'!" said Wingle.  "Got a gun I can use?  I give
+mine to Sundown."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There's one over in the office on the desk.  But we're going to push
+the herd over to the water-hole.  We're not going there to fight."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Huh!  Goin' to be quiet, eh?  Mebby I better take my knittin' along to
+pass the time."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+And Wingle departed toward the office.  Rejoining Corliss they rode
+with the men to the Knoll.  Bud Shoop nodded gravely as his employer
+told him of Loring's occupation of the west bank of the river.  Then
+the genial Bud rode over to the herd that was bunched in anticipation
+of just such a contingency as had developed.  "It's a case of push 'em
+along easy&mdash;and all night," he told his men.  "And if any of you boys
+is out of cartridges there's plenty in the wagon."
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P>
+John Corliss rode with his men.  He told them to cut out any stray
+Two-Bar-O stock they saw and turn them back.  Toward evening they had
+the cattle in motion, drifting slowly toward the north.  The sixteen
+riders, including Corliss and Wingle, spread out and pushed the herd
+across the afternoon mesas.  The day was hot and there was no water
+between the Knoll and Sundown's ranch.  Corliss intended to hold the
+cattle when within a mile of the water-hole by milling them until
+daylight.  When they got the smell of water, he knew that he would not
+be able to hold them longer, nor did he wish to.  He regretted the fact
+that Chance was running with him, for he knew that Loring's men, under
+the circumstances, would shoot the dog if they had opportunity.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Toward evening the outfit drew up in a draw and partook of a hearty
+supper.  The cattle began to lag as they were urged forward, and Chance
+was called into requisition to keep after the stragglers.  As the herd
+was not large,&mdash;in fact, numbered but five hundred,&mdash;it was possible to
+keep it moving steadily and well bunched, throughout the night.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Within a short mile of the water-hole the riders began to mill the herd.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Bud Shoop, riding up to Corliss, pointed toward the east.  "Reckon we
+can't hold 'em much longer, Jack.  They're crazy dry&mdash;and they smell
+water."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"All right, Bud.  Hold 'em for fifteen minutes more.  Then take four of
+the boys with you and fan it for the road.  You can cache in that draw
+just north of the water-hole.  About sunup the herd'll break for water.
+Loring's outfit will be plenty busy on this side, about then.  If he's
+got any gunmen handy, they'll be camped at the ranch.  Chances are that
+when the cattle stampede a band or two of sheep, he'll turn his men on
+us.  That's your time to ride down and take possession of the ranch.
+Most likely you won't have to draw a gun."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Shoop reined close to Corliss and held out his hand.  "Mebby not, Jack.
+But if we do&mdash;so-long."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Then the genial Bud loped to the outriders, picking them up one by one.
+The cattle, freed from the vigilance of the circling horsemen, sniffed
+the dawn, crowded to a wedge, and began to trot, then to run.  Shoop
+and his four companions spurred ahead, swung to the road, and thundered
+past the ranch-house as a faint edge of light shot over the eastern
+horizon.  They entered the mouth of the draw, swung around, and reined
+up.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We're goin' to chip in when Jack opens the pot," said Shoop.  "Just
+how strong we'll come in depends on how strong Jack opens her."  Then
+with seeming irrelevance he remarked casually: "Sinker wasn't such a
+bad ole scout."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Which Loring's goin' to find out right soon," said "Mebby-So," a lean
+Texan.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Sinker's sure goin' to have company, I take it," remarked "Bull"
+Cassidy.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Boss's orders is to take her without makin' any noise," said Shoop.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Huh!  <I>I'm</I> plumb disappointed," asserted Mebby-So.  "I was figurin'
+on singin' hymns and accompanyin' meself on me&mdash;me cayuse.  Listen!
+Somethin' 's broke loose!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Thundering like an avalanche the herd swept down on the water-hole,
+ploughing through a band of sheep that were bedded down between them
+and the ranch.  The herder's tent was torn to ribbons.  Wingle,
+trailing behind the herd, dismounted, and, stooping, disarmed the
+bruised and battered Mexican who had struggled to his feet as he rode
+up.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+From the water-hole came shouts, and Corliss saw several men come
+running from the house to seize their horses and ride out toward the
+cattle.  The band of riders opened up and the distant popping of
+Winchesters told him that the herders were endeavoring to check the
+rush of the thirst-maddened steers.  The carcasses of sheep, trampled
+to pulp, lay scattered over the mesa.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It sure is hell!" remarked Wingle, riding up to Corliss.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Hell is correct," said Corliss, spurring forward.  "Now I reckon we'll
+ride over to the rancho and see if Loring wants any more of it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Silently the rancher and his men rode toward the water-hole.  As they
+drew near the line fence, the Mexican riders, swinging in a wide
+circle, spurred to head them off.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Hold on!" shouted Corliss.  "We'll pull up and wait for 'em."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Suits me," said Wingle, loosening his gun from the holster.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The Mexicans, led by Loring, loped up and reined with a slither of
+hoofs and the snorting of excited ponies.  Corliss held up his hand.
+Loring spurred forward and Corliss rode to meet him.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Want any more of it?" queried Corliss.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'll take all you got," snarled Loring.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"All right.  Just listen a minute."  And Corliss reached in his
+saddle-pocket.  "Here's a lease from the Government covering the ten
+sections adjoining the water-hole ranch, on the south and west.  And
+here's a contract with the owner of the water-hole, signed and
+witnessed, for the use of the water for my stock.  You're playing an
+old-fashioned game, Loring, that's out of date.  Want to look over
+these papers?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"To hell with your papers.  I'm here and I'm goin' to stay."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, we'll visit you regular," shouted a puncher.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Better come over to the house and talk things over," said Corliss.  "I
+don't want trouble with you&mdash;but my boys do."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Loring hesitated.  One of his men, spurring up, whispered to him.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Wingle, keenly alert, restrained a cowboy who was edging forward.
+"Don't start nothin'," he said.  "If she's goin' to start, she'll start
+herself."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Loring turned to Corliss.  "I'd like to look at them papers," he said
+slowly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"All right.  We'll ride over to the house."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The two bands of riders swung toward the north, passed the tank, and
+trotted up to the ranch-gate.  They dismounted and were met by Shoop
+and his companions.  Loring blinked and muttered.  He had been
+outgeneraled.  One of the Concho riders laughed.  Loring's hand slipped
+to his belt.  "Don't," said Corliss easily.  The tension relaxed, and
+the men began joking and laughing.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Where's Sundown?" queried Corliss.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Loring gestured toward the house.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'll go," said Wingle.  And he shouldered through the group of
+scowling herders and entered the house.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sundown, with hands tied, was sitting on the edge of his bed.  "They
+roped me," he said lugubriously, "in me own house.  Bud he was goin' to
+untie me, but I says for the love of Mike leave me tied or I'll take a
+chair and brain that Chola what kicked Gentle Annie in the stummick
+this mornin'.  He was goin' to milk her and I reckon she didn't like
+his looks.  Anyhow, she laid him out with a kind of hind-leg upper-cut.
+When he come to, he set in to kickin' her.  I got his picture and if I
+get me hands on him&#8230;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Wingle cut the rope and Sundown stood up.  "They swiped me gun," he
+asserted.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Here's one I took off a herder," said Wingle.  "if things get to
+boilin' over&mdash;why, jest nacherally wilt the legs from under anything
+that looks like a Chola.  Jack's got the cards, all right&mdash;but I don't
+jest like the look of things.  Loring's in the corner and he's got his
+back up."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+As they came from the house, Loring was reading the papers that Corliss
+had handed to him.  The old sheep-man glanced at the signatures on the
+documents and then slowly folded them, hesitated, and with a quick turn
+of his wrist tore them and flung the pieces in Corliss's face.  "That
+for your law!  We stay!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss bit his lip, and the dull red of restrained anger burned in his
+face.  He had gone too far to retreat or retract.  He knew that his men
+would lose all respect for him if he backed down now.  Yet he was
+unable to frame a plan whereby he might avoid the arbitration of the
+six-gun.  His men eyed him curiously.  Was Jack going to show a yellow
+streak?  They thought that he would not&mdash;and yet&#8230;
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sundown raised his long arm and pointed.  "There's the gent what kicked
+me cow," he said, his face white and his eyes burning.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The punchers of the Concho laughed.  "Jump him!" shouted "Bull"
+Cassidy.  "We'll stand by and see that there's no monkeyin'."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss held up his hand.  The Mexicans drew together and the age-old
+hatred for the Gringo burned in their beady eyes.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sundown's thin lips drew tight.  "I've a good mind to&mdash;" he began.  The
+Mexican who had maltreated the cow mistook Sundown's gesture for intent
+to kill.  The herder's gun whipped up.  Sundown grabbed a chair that
+stood tilted against the house and swung it.  The Mexican went down.
+With the accidental explosion of the gun, Mebby-So grunted, put his
+hand to his side, and toppled from the saddle.  Corliss wheeled his
+horse.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Don't shoot, boys!" he shouted.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+His answer was a roar of six-guns.  He felt Chinook shiver.  He jumped
+clear as the horse rolled to its side.  Sundown, retreating to the
+house, flung open the bedroom window and kneeling, laid the barrel of
+his gun on the sill.  Deliberately he sighted, hesitated, and flung the
+gun from him.  "God Almighty&mdash;I ought to&mdash;but I can't!"  He had seen
+Corliss fall and thought that he had been killed.  He saw a Mexican
+raise his gun to fire; saw him suddenly straighten in the saddle.  Then
+the gun dropped from his hand, and he bent forward upon his horse,
+recovered, swayed a moment, and fell limply.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Bud Shoop, on foot, ran around to the rear of the house.  His horse lay
+kicking, shot through the stomach.  The foreman drew himself up under
+cover of the hen-house and fired into the huddle of Mexicans that swept
+around the yard as the riders of the Concho drove them back.  He saw
+"Bull" Cassidy in the thick of it, swinging his guns and swearing
+heartily.  Finally a Mexican pony, wounded and wild with fright, tore
+through the barb-wire fence.  Behind him spurred the herders.  Out on
+the mesa they turned and threw lead at the Concho riders, who retreated
+to the cover of the house.  Corliss caught up a herder's horse and rode
+around to them.  Shorty, one of his men, grinned, fell to coughing, and
+sank forward on his horse.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Loring's down," said Wingle, solemnly reloading his gun.  "Think they
+got enough, Jack?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Loring, eh?  Well, I know who got him.  Yes, they got enough."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Shorty, vomiting blood, wiped his lips on his sleeve.  "Well, I
+ain't&mdash;not yet," he gasped.  "<I>I'm</I> goin' to finish in a blaze of
+glory.  Come on, boys!"  And he whirled his horse.  Swaying drunkenly
+he spurred around the corner of the house and through the gateway.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss glanced at Wingle.  "We can't let him ride into 'em by his
+lonesome," said Wingle.  "Eh, boys?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not on your fat life!" said Bull Cassidy.  "I got one wing that's
+workin' and I'm goin' to fly her till she gits busted."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Let's clean 'em up!  Might's well do a good job now we're at it.
+Where's Bud?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He's layin' over there back of the chicken-roost.  Reckon he's
+thinkin' things over.  He ain't sayin' much."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Bud down, too?  Then I guess we ride!"  And they swept out after
+Shorty.  They saw the diminutive cowboy tear through the band of
+herders, his gun going; saw his horse stumble and fall and a figure
+pitch from the saddle and roll to one side.  "And if I'm goin'&mdash;I want
+to go out that way," shouted Bull Cassidy.  "Shorty was some sport!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+But the Mexicans had had enough of it.  They wheeled and spurred toward
+the south.  The Concho horses, worn out by the night-journey, were soon
+distanced.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss pulled up.  "Catch up a fresh horse, Hi.  And let Banks know
+how things stand.  If Loring isn't all in, you might fetch the doctor
+back with you.  We'll need him, anyway."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Sure!  Wonder who that is fannin' it this way?  Don't look like a
+puncher."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss turned and gazed down the road.  From the south came little
+puffs of dust as a black-and-white pinto running at top speed swept
+toward them.  He paled as he recognized the horse.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It's Loring's girl," said Wingle, glancing at Corliss.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Nell Loring reined up as she came opposite the Concho riders and turned
+from the road.  The men glanced at each other.  Then ensued an awkward
+silence.  The girl's face was white and her dark eyes burned with
+reproach as she saw the trampled sheep and here and there the figure of
+a man prone on the mesa.  Corliss raised his hat as she rode up.  She
+sat her horse gazing at the men.  Without a word she turned and rode
+toward the ranch-house.  The Concho riders jingled along, in no hurry
+to face the scene which they knew awaited them at the water-hole.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She was on her knees supporting her father's head when they dismounted
+and shuffled into the yard.  The old sheep-man blinked and tried to
+raise himself.  One of the Concho boys stepped forward and helped her
+get the wounded man to the house.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss strode to the bedroom and spoke to Sundown who turned and sat
+up.  "Get hit, Sun?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No.  But I'm feelin' kind of sick.  Is the ole man dead?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He's hurt, but not bad.  We want the bed."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sundown got to his feet and sidled past the girl as she helped her
+father to the bed.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I sent for the doctor," said Corliss.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The girl whirled and faced him.  "You!" she exclaimed&mdash;"You!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The rancher's shoulders straightened.  "Yes&mdash;and it was my gun got him.
+You might as well know all there is to it."  Then he turned and,
+followed by Sundown, stepped to the yard.  "We'll keep busy while we're
+waiting.  Any of you boys that feel like riding can round up the herd.
+Hi and I will look after&mdash;the rest of it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And Bud," suggested a rider.
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P>
+They found Shoop on the ground, the flesh of his shoulder torn away by
+a .45 and a welt of red above his ear where a Mexican's bullet had
+creased him.  They carried him to the house.  "Sun, you might stir
+around and rustle some grub.  The boys will want to eat directly."  And
+Corliss stepped to the water-trough, washed his hands, and then rolled
+a cigarette.  Hi Wingle sat beside him as they waited for dinner.
+Suddenly Corliss turned to his cook.  "I guess we've won out, Hi," he
+said.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Generally speakin'&mdash;we sure have," said Wingle.  "But I reckon <I>you</I>
+lost."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss nodded.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap27"></A>
+<H2 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER XXVII
+</H2>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+"JUST ME AND HER"
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+Sheriff Banks tossed Corliss's note on his desk, reached in his pocket
+and drew forth a jack-knife with which he began to trim his
+finger-nails.  He paid no apparent attention to the arrival of one of
+his deputies, but proceeded with his manipulation of the knife.  The
+deputy sidled to a chair and sat watching the sheriff.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Presently Banks closed his knife, slid it into his pocket, and leaned
+back in his chair.  "Lone Johnny gone back?" he queried.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The deputy nodded.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Banks proffered his companion a cigar and lit one himself.  For a while
+he smoked and gazed at the ceiling.  "I got two cards to play," he
+said, straightening up and brushing cigar-ash from his vest.  "Last
+election was pretty close.  By rights I ought to be at the county-seat.
+Got any idea why they side-tracked me here in Antelope?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The deputy grinned.  "It's right handy to the line.  And I guess they
+saw what was comin' and figured to put you up against it.  They
+couldn't beat you at the polls, so they tried to put you where you
+wouldn't come back."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Correct.  And there's no use running against the rope.  Now I want you
+to call on every citizen in Antelope and tell every dog-goned one of
+'em what Lone Johnny kind of hinted at regarding the Concho and Loring.
+And show 'em this note from Jack.  Tell 'em I'm going to swear in each
+of 'em as a special.  I want to go on record as having done what I
+could."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The deputy rose.  "All right, Jim.  Kind of late to make that move,
+ain't it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I got another card," said the sheriff.  "Tell 'em we'll be ready to
+start about twelve.  It's ten, now."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+With the departure of the deputy the sheriff reached in his desk and
+brought forth a book.  It was thumbed and soiled.  He turned the pages
+slowly, pausing to read a line here and there.  Finally he settled back
+and became immersed in the perennial delight of "Huckleberry Finn."  He
+read uninterruptedly for an hour, drifting on the broad current of the
+Mississippi to eventually disembark in Antelope as the deputy shadowed
+the doorway.  The sheriff closed the book and glanced up.  He read his
+answer in the deputy's eyes.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"'T ain't that they don't like you," said the deputy.  "But they ain't
+one of 'em that'll do anything for Loring or do anything against Jack
+Corliss."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The sheriff smiled.  "Public opinion is setting on the fence and
+hanging on with both hands.  All right, Joe.  I'll play her alone.  I
+got a wire from Hank that he's got the herder, Fernando.  Due here on
+the two-thirty.  You hang around and tell Hank to keep on&mdash;take the
+Mexican along up to Usher."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Goin' to go after the Concho boys and Loring's herders?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Sure thing.  And I'm going alone.  Then they won't make a fuss.
+They'll come back with me all right."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But you couldn't get a jury to send one of 'em over&mdash;not in this
+county."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Correct, Joe.  But the county's paying me to go through the
+motions&mdash;don't matter what I think personally.  If they've pulled off a
+shooting-match at the water-hole, the thing's settled by this time.  It
+had to come and if it's over, I'm dam' glad.  It'll clear the air for
+quite a spell to come."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The papers'll sure make a holler&mdash;" began the deputy.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not so much as you think.  They got one good reason to keep still and
+that's because the free range is like to be opened up to homesteaders
+any day.  Too much noise about cattle-and-sheep war would scare good
+money from coming to the State.  I heard the other day that that
+Sundown Jack picked up is settled at the water-hole.  I took him for a
+tenderfoot once.  I reckon he ain't.  It's hard to figure on those
+queer kind.  Well, you meet the two-thirty.  I guess I'll ride over to
+the Concho and see the boys."
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P>
+The Loring-Corliss case is now a matter of record in the dusty files of
+the "Usher Sentinel" and its decidedly disesteemed contemporary, the
+"Mesa News."  The case was dismissed for lack of anything like definite
+evidence, though Loring and Corliss were bound over to keep the peace.
+Incidentally one tall and angular witness refused to testify, and was
+sentenced to pay a not insignificant fine for contempt of court.  That
+his fine was promptly paid by Corliss furnished a more or less
+gratuitous excuse for a wordy vilification of the rancher and his
+"hireling assassin," "menace to public welfare," and the like.
+Sundown, however, stuck to his guns, even to the extent of searching
+out the editor of the "Mesa News" and offering graciously to engage in
+hand-to-hand combat, provided the editor, or what was left of him after
+the battle, would insert an apology in the next issue of the paper&mdash;the
+apology to be dictated by Sundown.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The editor temporized by asking the indignant Sundown to frame the
+apology, which he did.  Then the wily autocrat of the "Mesa News,"
+after reading the apology, agreed to an armistice and mentioned the
+fact that it was a hot day.  Sundown intimated that he knew one or two
+places in Usher which he was not averse to visiting under the
+circumstances.  And so the treaty was ratified.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Perhaps among Sundown's possessions there is none so cherished,
+speaking broadly, as a certain clipping from an Arizona newspaper in
+which the editor prints a strangely worded and colorful apology, above
+his personal signature, for having been misled temporarily in his
+estimation of a "certain person of warlike proclivities who visited our
+sanctum bent upon eradicating us in a physical sense."  The apology
+follows.  In a separate paragraph, however, is this information:
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We find it imperative, however, to state that the above apology is a
+personal matter and in no wise affects our permanent attitude toward
+the lawlessness manifest so recently in our midst.  Moreover, we were
+forced at the muzzle of a six-shooter, in the hands of the
+above-mentioned Sundown, to insert that illiterate and blood-thirsty
+gentleman's screed in the MESA NEWS, as he, together with the gang of
+cutthroats with whom he seems in league, stood over us with drawn
+weapons until the entire issue had been run off.  Such is the condition
+of affairs under the present corrupt administration of our suffering
+State."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Such advertising, Sundown reflected, breathing of battle and carnage,
+would obviate the necessity for future upholding of his reputation in a
+physical sense.  Great is the power of the press!  It became whispered
+about that he was a two-gun man of dexterous attainments in dispensing
+lead and that his mild and even apologetic manner was but a cloak.
+Accident and the tongues of men earned for Sundown that peace which he
+so thoroughly loved.  He became immune to strife.  When he felt his
+outward attitude sagging a little, he re-read the clipping and braced
+up.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sundown rode to the Concho gate, dismounted and opened it.  Chance ran
+ahead, leaping up as Corliss came from the ranch-house.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Got them holes plugged in the tank," said Sundown.  "Got the engine
+runnin' ag'in and things is fine.  You goin' to put them cattle back on
+the water-hole range?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, as soon as Bud can get around again.  He's up, but he can't ride
+yet."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How's Bull?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, he's all right.  Mebby-So's laid up yet.  He got it pretty bad."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, I reckon they ain't goin' to be no more fightin' 'bout cattle
+and sheep.  I stopped by to the Loring ranch.  Ole man Loring was sure
+ugly, so I reckon he's feelin' nacheral ag'in.  He was like to get mad
+at me for stopping but his gal, Nell, she smoothed down his wool and
+asked me to stay and eat.  I wasn't feelin' extra hungry, so I come
+along up here."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I have some good news," said Corliss.  "Got a letter from Billy last
+week.  Didn't have time to tell you.  He's working for a broker in
+'Frisco.  I shouldn't wonder if he should turn up one of these days.
+How would you like to drive over to Antelope and meet him when he
+comes?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'd sure be glad.  Always did like Billy.  'Course you don't know when
+he's comin'&mdash;and I got to do some drivin' meself right soon."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"So?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yep.  'Course I got the wagon, but they ain't no style to that.  I was
+wantin' a rig with style to it&mdash;like the buckboard."  Sundown fidgeted
+nervously with the buttons of his shirt.  He coughed, took off his hat,
+and mopped his face with a red bandanna.  Despite his efforts he grew
+warmer and warmer.  He was about to approach a delicate subject.
+Finally he seized the bull by the horns, so to speak, and his tanned
+face grew red.  "I was wantin' to borrow that buckboard, mebby,
+Saturday."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Sure!  Going to Antelope?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Nope&mdash;not first.  I got business over to Chico Miguel's place.  I'm
+goin' to call on a lady."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, I see!  Anita?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, I sure ain't goin' to call on her ma&mdash;she's married a'ready."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Despite himself, Corliss smiled.  "So that's what you wanted that new
+bed and table and the chairs for.  Did they get marked up much coming
+in?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The legs some.  I rubbed 'em with that hoss-liniment you give me.  You
+can hardly tell.  It kind of smelled like turpentine, and I didn't have
+nothin' else."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, anything you want&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I know, boss.  But this is goin' to be a quiet weddin'.  No
+brass-bands or ice-cream or pop-corn or style.  Just me and her
+and&mdash;and I reckon a priest, seein' she was brung up that way.  I ain't
+asked her yet."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What?  About getting married, or the priest?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Nothin'.  We got kind of a eye-understandin' and her ma and me is good
+friends.  It's like this.  Bein' no hand to do love-makin' stylish, I
+just passes her a couple of bouquets onct or twict and said a few
+words.  Now, you see, if I get that buckboard and a couple of hosses&mdash;I
+sure would like the white ones&mdash;and drive over lookin' like business
+and slip the ole man a box of cigars I bought, and Mrs. Miguel that
+there red-and-yella serape I paid ten dollars for in Antelope, and show
+Anita me new contract with the Concho for pumpin' water for
+seventy-five bones a month, I reckon the rest of it'll come easy.  I'm
+figurin' strong on them white hosses, likewise.  Bein' white'll kind of
+look like gettin' married, without me sayin' it.  You see, boss, I'm
+short on the Spanish talk and so I have to do some figurin'."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, Sun, you have come along a lot since you first hit the Concho!
+Go ahead, and good luck to you!  If you need any money&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I was comin' to that.  Seein' as you kind of know me&mdash;and seein' I'm
+goin' to git hitched&mdash;I was thinkin' you might lend me mebby a hundred
+on the contrac'."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I guess I can.  Will that be enough?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Plenty.  You see I was figurin' on buyin' a few head of stock to run
+with yourn on the water-hole range."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why, I can let you have the stock.  You can pay me when you get ready."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That's just it.  You'd kind of give 'em to me and I ain't askin'
+favors, except the buckboard and the white hosses."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But what do you want to monkey with cattle for?  You're doing pretty
+well with the water."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That's just it.  You see, Anita thinks I'm a rarin', high-ridin',
+cussin', tearin', bronco-bustin' cow-puncher from over the hill.  I
+reckon you know I ain't, but I got to live up to it and kind of let her
+down easy-like.  I can put on me spurs and chaps onct or twict a week
+and go flyin' out and whoopin' around me stock, and scarin' 'em to
+death, pertendin' I'm mighty interested in ridin' range.  If you got a
+lady's goat, you want to keep it.  'Course, later on, I can kind o'
+slack up.  Then I'm goin' to learn her to read American, and she can
+read that piece in the paper about me.  I reckon that'll kind of cinch
+up the idea that her husband sure is the real thing.  But I got to have
+them cows till she can learn to read."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We've got to brand a few yearlings that got by last round-up.  Bud
+said there was about fifteen of them.  You can ride over after you get
+settled and help cut 'em out.  What iron do you want to put on them?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, seein' it's me own brand, I reckon it will be like this: A kind
+of half-circle for the sun, and a lot of little lines runnin' out to
+show that it's shinin', and underneath a straight line meanin' the
+earth, which is 'Sundown'&mdash;me own brand.  Could Johnny make one like
+that?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't know.  That's a pretty big order.  You go over and tell Johnny
+what you want.  And I'll send the buckboard over Saturday."
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap28"></A>
+<H2 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER XXVIII
+</H2>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+IMPROVEMENTS
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+Out in a field bordered by the roadway a man toiled behind a
+disk-plough.  He trudged with seven-league strides along the furrows,
+disdaining to ride on the seat of the plough.  To effect a comfortable
+following of his operations he had lengthened the reins with
+clothes-line.  He drove a team of old and gentle white horses as
+wheelers.  His lead animals were mules, neither old nor gentle.  It is
+possible that this fact accounted for his being afoot.  He was arrayed
+in cowboy boots and chaps, a faded flannel shirt, and a Stetson.
+Despite the fact that a year had passed since he had practically
+"Lochinvared" the most willing Anita,&mdash;though with the full and joyous
+consent of her parents,&mdash;he still clung to the habiliments of the
+cowboy, feeling that they offset the more or less menial requirements
+of tilling the soil.  Behind him trailed a lean, shaggy wolf-dog who
+nosed the furrows occasionally and dug for prairie-dogs with
+intermittent zest.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The toiler, too preoccupied with his ploughing to see more than his
+horses' heads and the immediate unbroken territory before them, did not
+realize that a team had stopped out on the road and that a man had
+leaped from the buckboard and was standing at the fence.  Chance,
+however, saw the man, and, running to Sundown, whined.  Sundown pulled
+up his team and wiped his brow.  "Hurt your foot ag'in?" he queried.
+"Nope?  Then what's wrong?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The man in the road called.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sundown wheeled and stood with mouth open.  "It's&mdash;Gee Gosh!  It's
+Billy!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He observed that a young and fashionably attired woman sat in the
+buckboard holding the team.  He fumbled at his shirt and buttoned it at
+the neck.  Then he swung his team around and started toward the fence.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Will Corliss, attired in a quiet-hued business suit, his cheeks
+healthfully pink and his eye clear, smiled as the lean one tied the
+team and stalked toward him.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss held out his hand.  Sundown shook his head.  "Excuse me, Billy,
+but I ain't shakin' hands with you across no fence."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+And Sundown wormed his length between the wires and straightened up,
+extending a tanned and hairy paw.  "Shake, pardner!  Say, you're
+lookin' gorjus!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My wife," said Corliss.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sundown doffed his sombrero sweepingly.  "Welcome to Arizona, ma'am."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"This is my friend, Washington Hicks, Margery."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, ma'am," said Sundown.  "It ain't my fault, neither.  I had
+nothin' to say about it when they hitched that name onto me.  I reckon
+I hollered, but it didn't do no good.  Me pals"&mdash;and Sundown shrugged
+his shoulder&mdash;"mostly gents travelin' for their health&mdash;got to callin'
+me Sundown, which is more poetical.  'Course, when I got married&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Married!" exclaimed Corliss, grinning.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You needn't to grin, Billy.  Gettin' married's mighty
+responsible-like."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss made a gesture of apology.  "So you're homesteading the
+water-hole?  Jack wrote to me about it.  He didn't say anything about
+your getting married."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Kind of like his not sayin' anything about your gettin' hitched up,
+eh?  He said he was hearin' from you, but nothin' about Misses Corliss.
+Please to expect my congratulations, ma'am&mdash;and you, too, Billy."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Thank you!" said Mrs. Corliss, smiling.  "Will has told me a great
+deal about you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He has, eh?  Well, I'm right glad to be acquainted by heresy.  It kind
+of puts you on to what to expect.  But say, it's hot here.  If you'll
+drive back to me house, I'd sure like to show you the improvements."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"All right, Sun!  We'll drive right in and wait for you."
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P>
+They did not have to wait, however.  Sundown, leaving his team at the
+fence, took a short cut to the house.  He entered the back door and
+called to Anita.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Neeter," he said, as she hastened to answer him, "they's some friends
+of mine just drivin' up.  If you could kind of make a quick change and
+put on that white dress with the leetle roses sprinkled on it&mdash;quick;
+and is&mdash;is he sleepin'?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Si!  He is having the good sleep."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Fine!  I'll hold 'em off till you get fixed up.  It's me ole pal,
+Billy Corliss,&mdash;and he's brung along a wife.  We got to make a good
+front, seein' it's kind of unexpected.  Wrastle into that purty dress
+and don't wake him up."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Si!  I go queek."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why, this is fine!" said Corliss, entering, hat in hand, and gazing
+about the room.  "It's as snug and picturesque as a lodge."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Beautiful!" exclaimed the enthusiastic Margery, gazing at the Navajo
+rugs, the clean, white-washed walls against which the red ollas, filled
+with wild flowers, made a pretty picture, and the great grizzly-bear
+rug thrown across a home-made couch.  "It's actually romantic!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Me long suit, lady.  We ain't got much, but what we got goes with this
+kind of country."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Margery smiled.  "Oh, Will, I'd like a home like this.  Just simple and
+clean&mdash;and comfortable.  It's a real home."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Me wife's comin' in a minute.  While she's&mdash;er&mdash;combin' her hair,
+mebby you'd like to see some of the improvements."  And Sundown marched
+proudly to the new dining-room&mdash;an extension that he had built
+himself&mdash;and waved an invitation for his guests to behold and marvel.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The dining-room was, in its way, also picturesque.  The exceedingly
+plain table was covered with a clean white cloth.  The furniture, owing
+to some fortunate accident of choice, was not ornate but of plain
+straight lines, redeemed by painted ollas filled with flowers.  The
+white walls were decorated with two pictures, a lithograph of the
+Madonna,&mdash;which seemed entirely in keeping with the general tone of the
+room, but which would have looked glaringly out of place anywhere
+else,&mdash;and an enlarged full-length photograph, framed, of an
+exceedingly tall and gorgeous cowboy, hat in hand, quirt on wrist, and
+looking extremely impressive.  Beside the cowboy stood a great, shaggy
+dog&mdash;Chance.  And, by chance, the picture was a success.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why, it's you, Sun!" exclaimed Corliss, striding to the picture.  "And
+it's a dandy!  I'd hang it in the front room."'
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That's what Neeter was sayin'.  But I kind of like it in here.  You
+see, Neeter sets there and I set here where I can see me picture while
+I'm eatin'.  It kind of gives me a good appetite.  'Course, lookin' out
+the window is fine.  See them there mesas dancin' in the sun, and the
+grass wavin' and me cows grazing and 'way off like in a dream them blue
+hills!  It's sure a millionaire picture!  And it don't cost nothin'."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That's the best of it!" said Corliss heartily.  "We're going to
+build&mdash;over on the mesa near the fork.  You remember?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sundown's flush was inexplicable to Margery, but Corliss understood.
+He had ridden the trail toward the fork one night.&#8230;  But that was
+past, atoned for.&#8230;  He would live that down.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It's a purty view, over there," said Sundown gently.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+And the two men felt that that which was not forgotten was at least
+forgiven&mdash;would never again be mentioned.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And me kitchen," said Sundown, leading the way, "is Neeter's.  She
+runs it.  There's more good eats comes out of it than they is fancy
+crockery in it, which just suits me.  And out here"&mdash;and the party
+progressed to the back yard&mdash;"is me new corral and stable and
+chicken-coop.  I made all them improvements meself, durin' the winter.
+Reckon you saw the gasoline-engine what does the pumpin' for the tanks.
+I wanted to have a windmill, but the engine works faster.  It's kind of
+hot, ma'am, and if you'll come in and set down I reckon me wife's got
+her hair&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Wah!  Wah!  Wah!" came in a crescendo from the bedroom.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sundown straightened his shoulders.  "Gee Gosh, he's gone and give it
+away, already!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss and his wife glanced at their host inquisitively.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Me latest improvement," said Sundown, bowing, as Anita, a plump brown
+baby on her arm, opened the bedroom door and stood bashfully looking at
+the strangers.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And me wife," he added.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss bowed, but Margery rushed to Anita and held out her arms.  "Oh,
+let me take him!" she cried.  "What big brown eyes!  Let me hold him!
+I'll be awfully careful!  Isn't he sweet!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+They moved to the living-room where Anita and Margery sat side by side
+on the couch with the baby absorbing all their attention.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sundown stalked about the room, his hands in his pockets, vainly
+endeavoring to appear very mannish and unconcerned, but his eye roved
+unceasingly to the baby.  He was the longest and most upstanding
+six-feet-four of proud father that Margery or her husband had ever had
+the pleasure of meeting.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He's got Neeter's eyes&mdash;and&mdash;and her&mdash;complexion, but he's sure got me
+style.  He measures up two-feet-six by the yardstick what we got with
+buyin' a case of bakin'-soda, and he ain't a yearlin' yet.  I don't
+just recollec' the day but I reckon Neeter knows."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He's great!" exclaimed Corliss.  "Isn't he, Margery?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He's just the cutest little brown baby!" said Margery, hugging the
+plump little body.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He&mdash;he ain't so <I>turruble</I> brown," asserted Sundown.  "'Course, he's
+tanned up some, seein' we keep him outside lots.  I'm kind o' tanned up
+meself, and I reckon he takes after me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He has a head shaped just like yours," said Margery, anxious to please
+the proud father.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then," said Sundown solemnly, "he's goin' to be a pole."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Anita, proud of her offspring, her husband, her neat and clean home,
+laughed softly, and held out her arms for the baby.  With a kick and a
+struggle the young Sundown wriggled to her arms and snuggled against
+her, gravely inspecting the pink roses on his mother's white dress.
+They were new to him.  He was more used to blue gingham.  The roses
+were interesting.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, Billy's me latest improvement," said Sundown, anxious to assert
+himself in view of the presence of so much femininity and a
+correspondingly seeming lack of vital interest in anything save the
+baby.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Billy!" said Corliss, turning from where he had stood gazing out of
+the window.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Uhuh!  We named him Billy after you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss turned again to the window.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sundown stepped to him, misinterpreting his silence.  He put his hand
+on Corliss's shoulder.  "You ain't mad 'cause we called him that, be
+you?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mad!  Say, Sun,"&mdash;and Corliss laughed, choked, and brushed his eyes.
+"Sun, I don't deserve it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, seein' what I been through since I was his size, I reckon I
+don't either.  But he's here, and you're here and your wife&mdash;and things
+is fine!  The sun is shinin' and the jiggers out on the mesa is
+chirkin' and to-morrow's goin' to be a fine day.  There's nothin' like
+bankin' on to-morrow, 'specially if you are doin' the best you kin
+today."  And with this bit of philosophy, Sundown, motioning to
+Corliss, excused himself and his companion as they strode to the
+doorway and out to the open.  There they talked about many things
+having to do with themselves and others until Margery, hailing them
+from the door, told them that dinner was waiting.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+After dinner the men foregathered in the shade of an acacia and smoked,
+saying little, but each thinking of the future.  Sundown in his
+peculiarly optimistic and half-melancholy way, and Corliss with mingled
+feelings of hope and regret.  He had endeavored to live down his past
+away from home.  He had succeeded in a measure: had sought and found
+work, had become acquainted with his employer's daughter, told her
+frankly of his previous manner of life, and found, not a little to his
+astonishment, that she had faith in him.  Then he wrote to his brother,
+asking to come back.  John Corliss was more than glad to realize that
+Will had straightened up.  If the younger man was willing to reclaim
+himself among folk who knew him at his worst, there must be something
+to him.  So Corliss had asked his brother to give him his employer's
+address; had written to the employer, explaining certain facts
+regarding Will's share in the Concho, and also asking that he urge Will
+to come home.  Just here Miss Margery had something to say, the
+ultimate result of which was a more definite understanding all around.
+If Will was going back to Arizona, Margery was also going.  And as
+Margery was a young woman quietly determined to have her way when she
+knew that it was right to do so, they were married the day before Will
+Corliss was to leave for Arizona.  This was to be their honeymoon.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+All of which was in Will Corliss's mind as he lay smoking and gazing at
+the cloudless sky.  It may be added to his credit that he had not
+returned because of the money that was his when he chose to claim it.
+Rather, he had realized&mdash;and Margery had a great deal to do with his
+newer outlook&mdash;that so long as he stayed away from home he was
+confessing to cowardice.  Incidentally Margery, being utterly feminine,
+wanted to see Arizona and the free life of the range, of which Corliss
+had told her.  As for Nell Loring&#8230;  Corliss sighed.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It sure is hot," muttered Sundown.  "'Course, you'll stay over and
+light out in the mornin' cool.  You and me can sleep in the front room.
+'T ain't the fust time we rustled for a roost.  And the wimmen-folks
+can bunk in the bedroom.  Billy he's right comf'table in his big
+clothes-basket.  He's a sure good sleeper, if I do say it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We could have gone on through," said Corliss, smiling.  "Of course
+we'd have been late, but Margery likes driving."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, if you had 'a' gone through&mdash;and I'd 'a' <I>ketched</I> you at
+it&mdash;I&mdash;I&mdash;I'd 'a' changed Billy's name to&mdash;to somethin' else."  And
+Sundown frowned ferociously.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss laughed.  "But we didn't.  We're here&mdash;and it's mighty good to
+breathe Arizona air again.  You never really begin to love Arizona till
+you've been somewhere else for a while."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And bein' married helps some, too," suggested Sundown.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, a whole lot.  Margery's enthusiasm makes me see beautiful things
+that I'd passed a hundred times before I knew her."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That's correc'," concurred Sundown.  "Now, take Gentle Annie, for
+instance&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You mean Mrs.&mdash;er&mdash;Sundown?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Nope!  Me tame cow.  'Annie' is American for 'Anita,' so I called her
+that.  Now, that there Gentle Annie's just a regular cow.  She ain't
+purty&mdash;but she sure gives plenty milk.  Neeter got me to seein' that
+Gentle Annie's eyes was purty and mournful-like and that she was a
+right handsome cow.  If your wife's pettin' and feedin' somethin', and
+callin' it them there smooth Spanish names, a fella's wise to do the
+same.  It helps things along."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Little Billy, for instance," suggested Corliss.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Leetle Billy is right!  But he couldn't help bein' good-lookin', I
+guess.  He's different.  Fust thing your wife said wuz he took after
+his pa."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You haven't changed much," said Corliss, smiling.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Me?  Mebby not&mdash;outside; but say, inside things is different.  I got
+feelin's now what I never knowed I had before.  Why, sometimes, when
+Neeter is rockin' leetle Bill, and singing and me settin' in the door,
+towards evenin', and everything fed up and happy, why, do you know, I
+feel jest like cryin'.  Plumb foolish, ain't it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't know about that, Sun."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, you will some day," asserted Sundown, taking him literally.  "'T
+ain't gettin' married what makes a man, but it's a dum' poor one what
+don't make the best of things if he is hitched up to a good girl.  Only
+one thing&mdash;it sure don't give a fella time to write much po'try."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss did not smile.  "You're living the poetry," he said with simple
+sincerity.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Which is correc', Billy.  And speakin' of po'try, I reckon I got to go
+feed them pigs.  They's gruntin' somethin' scand'lous for havin'
+comp'ny to our house&mdash;and anyhow, they's like to wake up leetle Bill."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+And Sundown departed to feed his pigs.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap29"></A>
+<H2 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER XXIX
+</H2>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+A MAN'S COUNTRY
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+"As for that," said John Corliss, gazing out across the mesa, "Loring
+and I shook hands&mdash;over the line fence.  That's settled."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sundown had just dismounted.  He stood holding the reins of his old
+saddle-horse "Pill."  He had ridden to the Concho to get his monthly
+pay.  "And pore leetle ole Fernando&mdash;he's gone," said Sundown.  "That's
+jest the difference between <I>one</I> fella doin' what he thinks is right
+and a <I>bunch</I> of fellas shootin' up themselves.  The one fella gets it
+every time.  The bunch, bein' so many of 'em, gets off.  Mebby that's
+law, but it ain't fair."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There's a difference, Sun.  A fight in the open and downing a man from
+ambush&mdash;two mighty different things."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, mebby.  But I'm feelin' sad for that leetle Fernando jest the
+same.&mdash;That Billy's new house?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes.  They expect to get settled this month."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Gee Gosh!  I been so busy I missed a bunch of days.  Reckon I got to
+rustle up somethin' for a weddin' present.  I know, be Gosh!  I'll send
+'em me picture.  Billy was kind of stuck on it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Good idea, Sun.  But I guess you'll miss it yourself."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I dunno.  Neeter ain't lookin' at it as much as she used to.  She's
+busy lookin' after leetle Bill&mdash;and me.  'Course I can get another one
+took most any time."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Make it two and give me one," said Corliss.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You ain't joshin'?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No.  I'll hang it in the office."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then she gets took&mdash;immediate."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Chance, who stood watching the two men, rose and wagged his tail.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Chance never failed to recognize that note in his master's voice.  It
+meant that his master was pleased, enthusiastic, happy, and Chance,
+loyal companion, found his happiness in that of his friends.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well," said Sundown, "I reckon I got to be joggin'.  Thanks for the
+check."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss waved his hand.  "I'll step over to the gate with you.  Thought
+perhaps you'd stay and see Billy."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Nope.  I ain't feelin' like meetin' folks today.  Don' know why.
+Sky's clear and fine, but inside I feel like it was goin' to rain.
+When you comin' down to see leetle Bill and Neeter?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Pretty soon.  Is Billy well?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well!  Gee Gosh!  If you could hear the langwidge he uses when Neeter
+puts him to bed and he don't want to go!  Why, yesterday he was on the
+floor playin' with Chance and Chance got tired of it and lays down to
+snooze.  Billy hitches along up to Chance, and <I>Bim</I>! he punches Chance
+on the nose.  Made him sneeze, too!  Why, that kid ain't afraid of
+nothin'&mdash;jest like his pa.  I reckon Billy told you that his wife said
+that leetle Billy took after me, eh?  Leave it to a woman to see them
+things!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, I'm mighty glad you're settled, and making a go of it, Sun."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"So be I.  I was recollectin' when I fust come into this country and
+landed at that water-hole.  It was kind of a joke then, but it ain't no
+joke now.  Funny thing&mdash;that bunch of punchers what started me lookin'
+for that there hotel that time&mdash;they come jinglin' up last week.
+Didn't know I was the boss till one of 'em grins after sizin' me up and
+says&mdash;er&mdash;well, two three words what kids hadn't ought to hear, and
+then, 'It's him, boys!'  Then I steps out and says, 'It is, gents.
+Come right in and have dinner and it won't cost you fellas a cent.  I
+told you I'd feed you up good when I got me hotel to runnin'.'  And
+sure enough, in they come and we fed 'em.  They was goin' to the Blue.
+They bunked in me hay that night.  Next mornin' they acted kind of
+queer, sayin' nothin' except, 'So-long,' when they lit out.  And what
+do you think!  They went and left four dollars and twenty-eight cents
+in the sugar-bowl&mdash;and a piece of paper with it sayin', 'For the kid.'
+We never found it out till I was drinkin' me coffee that night and
+liked to choked to death on a nickel.  Guess them punchers ain't so
+bad."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No.  They stopped here next day.  Said they'd never had a finer feed
+than you gave 'em."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Neeter is sure some cook.  Pretty nigh's good as me.  Well, so-long,
+Jack.  I&mdash;I&mdash;kind of wish you was buildin' a new house yourself."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Corliss, standing with his hand on the neck of Sundown's horse, smiled.
+"Arizona's a man's country, Sun."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"She sure is!" said Sundown, throwing out his chest.  "And lemme tell
+you, Jack, it's a man's business to get married and settle
+down&mdash;and&mdash;raise more of 'em.  'Specially like <I>me</I> and <I>you</I> and Bud
+and Hi&mdash;only Hi's gettin' kind of old.  She's a fine country, but she
+needs improvin'.  Sometimes them improvements keeps you awake nights,
+but they're worth it!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, I believe they're worth it," said Corliss, "So-long, Sun."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"So-long, Jack.  I got to get back and milk Gentle Annie.  We're
+switchin' Billy onto the bottle, and he don't like to be kep' waitin'."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Chance, following Sundown, trotted behind the horse a few steps, then
+turned and ran back to Corliss.  He nuzzled the rancher's hand, whined,
+and leapt away to follow his master.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<P CLASS="noindent">
+THE END
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR><BR>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Sundown Slim, by Henry Hubert Knibbs
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Sundown Slim, by Henry Hubert Knibbs
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Sundown Slim
+
+Author: Henry Hubert Knibbs
+
+Illustrator: Anton Fischer
+
+Release Date: July 20, 2005 [EBook #16334]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SUNDOWN SLIM ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Al Haines
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Frontispiece: "You!" she exclaimed. "You!"]
+
+
+
+
+
+
+SUNDOWN SLIM
+
+
+BY
+
+HENRY HERBERT KNIBBS
+
+
+
+WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY
+
+ANTON FISCHER
+
+
+
+
+
+
+NEW YORK
+
+GROSSET & DUNLAP
+
+PUBLISHERS
+
+
+
+
+COPYRIGHT, 1915, BY HENRY HERBERT KNIBBS
+
+ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
+
+
+Published May 1915
+
+
+
+
+DEDICATED TO
+
+EVERETT E. HARASZTHY
+
+
+
+
+
+Contents
+
+Chapter
+
+          ARIZONA
+      I.  SUNDOWN IN ANTELOPE
+     II.  THE JOKE
+    III.  THIRTY MILES TO THE CONCHO
+     IV.  PIE; AND SEPTEMBER MORN
+      V.  ON THE CANON TRAIL
+     VI.  THE BROTHERS
+    VII.  FADEAWAY'S HAND
+   VIII.  AT "THE LAST CHANCE"
+     IX.  SUNDOWN'S FRIEND
+      X.  THE STORM
+     XI.  CHANCE--CONQUEROR
+    XII.  A GIFT
+   XIII.  SUNDOWN, VAQUERO
+    XIV.  ON THE TRAIL TO THE BLUE
+     XV.  THEY KILLED THE BOSS!
+    XVI.  SUNDOWN ADVENTURES
+   XVII.  THE STRANGER
+  XVIII.  THE SHERIFF--AND OTHERS
+    XIX.  THE ESCAPE
+     XX.  THE WALKING MAN
+    XXI.  ON THE MESA
+   XXII.  WAIT!
+  XXIII.  THE PEACEMAKER
+   XXIV.  AN UNEXPECTED VISIT
+    XXV.  VAMOSE, EH?
+   XXVI.  THE INVADERS
+  XXVII.  "JUST ME AND HER"
+ XXVIII.  IMPROVEMENTS
+   XXIX.  A MAN'S COUNTRY
+
+
+
+
+List of Illustrations
+
+"You!" she exclaimed.  "You!" . . . " . . . _Frontispiece_
+
+"God A'mighty, sech things is wrong."
+
+
+
+
+Arizona
+
+Across the wide, sun-swept mesas the steel trail of the railroad runs
+east and west, diminishing at either end to a shimmering blur of
+silver.  South of the railroad these level immensities, rich in their
+season with ripe bunch-grass and grama-grass roll up to the barrier of
+the far blue hills of spruce and pine.  The red, ragged shoulders of
+buttes blot the sky-line here and there; wind-worn and grotesque
+silhouettes of gigantic fortifications, castles and villages wrought by
+some volcanic Cyclops who grew tired of his labors, abandoning his
+unfinished task to the weird ravages of wind and weather.
+
+In the southern hills the swart Apache hunts along historic trails o'er
+which red cavalcades once swept to the plundering of Sonora's herds.
+His sires and their flashing pintos have vanished to other
+hunting-grounds, and he rides the boundaries of his scant heritage,
+wrapped in sullen imaginings.
+
+The canons and the hills of this broad land are of heroic mould as are
+its men.  Sons of the open, deep-chested, tall and straight, they ride
+like conquerors and walk--like bears.  Slow to anger and quick to act,
+they carry their strength and health easily and with a dignity which no
+worn trappings, faded shirt, or flop-brimmed hat may obscure.  Speak to
+one of them and his level gaze will travel to your feet and back again
+to your eyes.  He may not know what you are, but he assuredly knows
+what you are not.  He will answer you quietly and to the point.  If you
+have been fortunate enough to have ridden range, hunted or camped with
+him or his kind, ask him, as he stands with thumb in belt and wide
+Stetson tilted back, the trail to heaven.  He will smile and point
+toward the mesas and the mountains of his home.  Ask him the trail to
+that other place with which he so frequently garnishes his
+conversation, and he will gravely point to the mesas and the hills
+again.  And there you have Arizona.
+
+
+
+
+SUNDOWN SLIM
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+SUNDOWN IN ANTELOPE
+
+Sundown Slim, who had enjoyed the un-upholstered privacy of a box-car
+on his journey west from Albuquerque, awakened to realize that his
+conveyance was no longer an integral part of the local freight which
+had stopped at the town of Antelope, and which was now rumbling and
+grumbling across the Arizona mesas.  He was mildly irritated by a
+management that gave its passengers such negligent service.  He
+complained to himself as he rolled and corded his blankets.  However,
+he would disembark and leave the car to those base uses for which
+corporate greed, and a shipper of baled hay, intended it.  He was
+further annoyed to find that the door of the car had been locked since
+he had taken possession.  Hearing voices, he hammered on the door.
+After an exchange of compliments with an unseen rescuer, the door was
+pushed back and he leaped to the ground.  He was a bit surprised to
+find, not the usual bucolic agent of a water-plug station, but a belted
+and booted rider of the mesas; a cowboy in all the glory of wide
+Stetson, wing chaps, and Mexican spurs.
+
+"Thought you was the agent.  I couldn't see out," apologized the tramp.
+
+The cowboy laughed.  "He was scared to open her up, so I took a chanct,
+seein' as I'm agent for the purvention of crulty to Hoboes."
+
+"Well, you got a fine chance to make a record this evening" said
+Sundown, estimating with experienced eye the possibilities of Antelope
+and its environs.  "I et at Albuquerque."
+
+"Ain't a bad town to eat in," commented the puncher, gazing at the sky.
+
+"I never seen one that was," the tramp offered, experimentally.
+
+The cowboy grinned.  "Well, take a look at this pueblo, then.  You can
+see her all from here.  If the station door was open you could see
+clean through to New Mexico.  They got about as much use for a Bo in
+these parts as they have for raisin' posies.  And this ain't no garden."
+
+"Well, I'm raised.  I got me full growth," said Sundown, straightening
+his elongated frame,--he stood six-feet-four in whatever he could get
+to stand in,--"and I raised meself."
+
+"Good thing you stopped when you did," commented the puncher.  "What's
+your line?"
+
+"Me line?  Well, the Santa Fe, jest now.  Next comes cookin'.  I been
+cook in everything from a hotel to a gradin'-camp.  I cooked for
+high-collars and swalley-tails, and low-brows and jeans--till it come
+time to go.  Incondescent to that I been poet select to the T.W.U."
+
+"Temperance?"
+
+"Not exactly.  T.W.U. is Tie Walkers' Union.  I lost me job account of
+a long-hair buttin' in and ramblin' round the country spielin'
+high-toned stuff about 'Art for her own sake'--and such.  Me pals
+selected him animus for poet, seein' as how I just writ things
+nacheral; no high-fluted stuff like him.  Why, say, pardner, I believe
+in writin' from the ground up, so folks can understand.  Why, this
+country is sufferin' full of guys tryin' to pull all the G strings out
+of a harp to onct--when they ought to be practicin' scales on a
+mouth-organ.  And it's printed ag'in' 'em in the magazines, right
+along.  I read lots of it.  But speakin' of eats and _thinkin_' of
+eats, did you ever listen to 'Them Saddest Words,'--er--one of me own
+competitions?"
+
+"Not while I was awake.  But come on over to 'The Last Chance' and
+lubricate your works.  I don't mind a little po'try on a full stummick."
+
+"Well, I'm willin', pardner."
+
+The process of lubrication was brief; and "Have another?" queried the
+tramp.  "I ain't all broke--only I ain't payin' dividen's, bein' hard
+times."
+
+"Keep your two-bits," said the puncher.  "This is on me.  You're goin'
+to furnish the chaser, Go to it and cinch up them there 'saddest.'"
+
+"Bein' just two-bits this side of bein' a socialist, I guess I'll keep
+me change.  I ain't a drinkin' man--regular, but I never was scared of
+eatin'."
+
+Sundown gazed about the dingy room.  Like most poets, he was not averse
+to an audience, and like most poets he was quite willing that such
+audience should help defray his incidental expenses--indirectly, of
+course.  Prospects were pretty thin just then.  Two Mexican herders
+loafed at the other end of the bar.  They appeared anything but
+susceptible to the blandishments of Euterpe.  Sundown gazed at the
+ceiling, which was fly-specked and uninspiring,
+
+"Turn her loose!" said the puncher, winking at the bartender.
+
+Sundown folded his long arms and tilted one lean shoulder as though
+defying the elements to blast him where he stood:--
+
+
+  "Lives there a gent who has not heard,
+  Before he died, the saddest word?
+
+  "'What word is that?' the maiden cried;
+  'I'd like to hear it before I died.'
+
+  "'Then come with me,' her father said,
+  As to the stockyards her he led;
+
+  "Where layin' on the ground so low
+  She seen a tired and weary Bo.
+
+  "But when he seen her standin' 'round,
+  He riz up from the cold, cold ground.
+
+  "'Is this a hold-up game?' sez he.
+  And then her pa laughed wickedly.
+
+  "'This ain't no hold-up!' loud he cried,
+  As he stood beside the fair maiden's side.
+
+  "'But this here gal of mine ain't heard
+  What you Boes call the saddest word.'
+
+  "'The Bo, who onct had been a gent,
+  Took off his lid and low he bent.
+
+  "He saw the maiden was fed up good,
+  So her father's wink he understood.
+
+  "'The saddest word,' the Bo he spoke,
+  'Is the dinner-bell, when you are broke.'"
+
+
+And Sundown paused, gazing ceilingward, that the moral might seep
+through.
+
+"You're ridin' right to home!" laughed the cow-boy.  "You just light
+down and we'll trail over to Chola Charley's and prospect a tub of
+frijoles.  The dinner-bell when you are broke is plumb correct.  Got
+any more of that po'try broke to ride gentle?"
+
+"Uhuh.  Say, how far is it to the next town?"
+
+"Comin' or goin'?"
+
+"Goin'."
+
+"'Bout seventy-three miles, but there's nothin' doin' there.  Worse'n
+this."
+
+"Looks like me for a job, or the next rattler goin' west.  Any chanct
+for a cook here?"
+
+"Nope.  All Mexican cooks.  But say, I reckon you _might_ tie up over
+to the Concho.  Hearn tell that Jack Corliss wants a cook.  Seems his
+ole stand-by Hi Wingle's gone to Phoenix on law business.  Jack's a
+good boss to tie to.  Worked for him myself."
+
+"How far to his place?" queried Sundown.
+
+"Sixty miles, straight south."
+
+"Gee Gosh!  Looks like the towns was scared of each other in this here
+country.  Who'd you say raises them frijoles?"
+
+The cowboy laughed and slapped Sundown on the back.  "Come on, Bud!
+You eat with me this trip."
+
+
+Western humor, accentuated by alcohol, is apt to broaden rapidly in
+proportion to the quantity of liquor consumed.  After a given quantity
+has been consumed--varying with the individual--Western humor broadens
+without regard to proportion of any kind.
+
+The jovial puncher, having enjoyed Sundown's society to the extent of
+six-bits' worth of Mexican provender, suggested a return to "The Last
+Chance," where the tramp was solemnly introduced to a newly arrived
+coterie of thirsty riders of the mesas.  Gaunt and exceedingly tall, he
+loomed above the heads of the group in the barroom "like a crane in a
+frog-waller," as one cowboy put it.  "Which ain't insinooatin' that our
+hind legs is good to eat, either," remarked another.  "He keeps right
+on smilin'," asserted the first speaker.  "And takin' his smile," said
+the other.  "Wonder what's his game?  He sure is the lonesomest-lookin'
+cuss this side of that dead pine on Bald Butte, that I ever seen."  But
+conviviality was the order of the evening, and the punchers grouped
+together and told and listened to jokes, old and new, talked sagebrush
+politics, and threw dice for the privilege of paying rather than
+winning.  "Says he's scoutin' for a job cookin'," remarked a young
+cowboy to the main group of riders.  "Heard him tell Johnny."
+
+Meanwhile, Sundown, forgetful of everything save the congeniality of
+the moment, was recounting, to an amused audience of three, his
+experiences as assistant cook in an Eastern hotel.  The rest of the
+happy and irresponsible punchers gravitated to the far end of the bar
+and proposed that they "have a little fun with the tall guy."  One of
+them drew his gun and stepped quietly behind the tramp.  About to fire
+into the floor he hesitated, bolstered his gun and tiptoed clumsily
+back to his companions.  "Got a better scheme," he whispered.
+
+Presently Sundown, in the midst of his recital, was startled by a roar
+of laughter.  He turned quickly.  The laughter ceased.  The cowboy who
+had released him from the box-car stated that he must be going, and
+amid protests and several challenges to have as many "one-mores," swung
+out into the night to ride thirty miles to his ranch.  Then it was, as
+has been said elsewhere and oft, "the plot thickened."
+
+A rider, leaning against the bar and puffing thoughtfully at a cigar of
+elephantine proportions, suddenly took his cigar from his lips, held it
+poised, examined it with the eye of a connoisseur--of cattle--and
+remarked slowly: "Now, why didn't I think of it?  Wonder you fellas
+didn't think of it.  They need a cook bad!  Been without a cook for a
+year--and everybody fussin' 'round cookin' for himself."
+
+Sundown caught the word "cook" and turned to, face the speaker.  "I was
+lookin' for a job, meself," he said, apologetically.  "Did you know of
+one?"
+
+"You was!" exclaimed the cowboy.  "Well, now, that's right queer.  I
+know where a cook is needed bad.  But say, can you honest-to-Gosh
+_cook_?"
+
+"I cooked in everything from a hotel to a gradin'-camp.  All I want is
+a chanct."
+
+The cowboy shook his head.  "I don' know.  It'll take a pretty good man
+to hold down this job."
+
+"Where is the job?" queried Sundown.
+
+Several of the men grinned, and Sundown, eager to be friendly, grinned
+in return.
+
+"Mebby you _could_ hold it down," continued the cowboy.  "But say, do
+you eat your own cookin'?"
+
+"Guess you're joshin' me."  And the tramp's face expressed
+disappointment.  "I eat my own cookin' when I can't get any better," he
+added, cheerfully.
+
+"Well, it ain't no joke--cookin' for that hotel," stated the puncher,
+gazing at the end of his cigar and shaking his head.  "Is it, boys?"
+
+"Sure ain't," they chorused.
+
+"A man's got to shoot the good chuck to hold the trade," he continued.
+
+"Hotel?" queried Sundown.  "In this here town?"
+
+"Naw!" exclaimed the puncher.  "It's one o' them swell joints out in
+the desert.  Kind o' what folks East calls a waterin'-place.  Eh, boys?"
+
+"That's her!" volleyed the group.
+
+"Kind o' select-like," continued the puncher.
+
+"Sure is!" they chorused.
+
+"Do you know what the job pays?" asked Sundown.
+
+"U-m-m-m, let's see.  Don't know as I ever heard.  But there'll be no
+trouble about the pay.  And you'll have things your own way, if you can
+deliver the goods."
+
+"That's right!" concurred a listener.
+
+Sundown looked upon work of any kind too seriously to suspect that it
+could be a subject for jest.  He gazed hopefully at their hard, keen
+faces.  They all seemed interested, even eager that he should find
+work.  "Well, if it's a job I can hold down," he said, slowly, "I'll
+start for her right now.  I ain't afraid to work when I got to."
+
+"That's the talk, pardner!  Well, I'll tell you.  You take that road at
+the end of the station and follow her south right plumb over the hill.
+Over the hill you'll see a ranch, 'way on.  Keep right on fannin' it
+and you'll come to a sign that reads 'American Hotel.'  That's her.
+Good water, fine scenery, quiet-like, and just the kind of a place them
+tourists is always lookin' for.  I stopped there many a time.  So has
+the rest of the boys."
+
+"You was tellin' me it was select-like--" ventured Sundown.
+
+The men roared.  Even Sundown's informant relaxed and grinned.  But he
+became grave again, flicked the ashes from his cigar and waved his
+hand.  "It's this way, pardner.  That there hotel is run on the
+American style; if you got the price, you can have anything in the
+house.  And tourists kind o' like to see a bunch of punchers settin'
+'round smokin' and talkin' and tellin' yarns.  Why, they was a lady
+onct--"
+
+"But she went back East," interrupted a listener.
+
+"That's the way with them," said the cowboy.  "They're always stickin'
+their irons on some other fella's stock.  Don't you pay no 'tention to
+them."
+
+Sundown shook hands with his informant, crossed to the corner of the
+room, and slung his blanket-roll across his back.  "Much obliged to you
+fellas," he said, his lean, timorous face beaming with gratitude.  "It
+makes a guy feel happy when a bunch of strangers does him a good turn.
+You see I ain't got the chanct to get a job, like you fellas, me bein'
+a Bo.  I had a pal onct--but He crossed over.  He was the only one that
+ever done me a good turn without my askin'.  He was a college guy.  I
+wisht he was here so he could say thanks to you fellas classy-like.
+I'm feeling them kind of thanks, but I can't say 'em."
+
+The grins faded from some of the faces.  "You ain't goin' to fan it
+to-night?" asked one.
+
+"Guess I will.  You see, I'm broke, now.  I'm used to travelin' any old
+time, and nights ain't bad--believe me.  It's mighty hot daytimes in
+this here country.  How far did you say?"
+
+"Just over the hill--then a piece down the trail.  You can't miss it,"
+said the cowboy who had spoken first.
+
+"Well, so-long, gents.  If I get that job and any of you boys come out
+to the hotel, I'll sure feed you good."
+
+An eddy of smoke followed Sundown as he passed through the doorway.  A
+cowboy snickered.  The room became silent.
+
+"Call the poor ramblin' lightnin'-rod back," suggested a kindly puncher.
+
+"He'll come back fast enough," asserted the perpetrator of the "joke."
+"It's thirty dry and dusty miles to the water-hole ranch.  When he gets
+a look at how far it is to-morrow mornin' he'll sure back into the
+fence and come flyin' for Antelope with reins draggin'.  Set 'em up
+again, Joe."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+THE JOKE
+
+Owing to his unaccustomed potations Sundown was perhaps a trifle
+over-zealous in taking the road at night.  He began to realize this
+after he had journeyed along the dim, starlit trail for an hour or so
+and found no break in the level monotony of the mesa.  He peered ahead,
+hoping to see the blur of a hill against the southern stars.  The air
+was cool and clear and sweet.  He plodded along, happy in the prospect
+of work.  Although he was a physical coward, darkness and the solitudes
+held no enemies for him.  He felt that the world belonged to him at
+night.  The moon was his lantern and the stars were his friends.
+Circumstance and environment had wrought for him a coat of cheerful
+effrontery which passed for hardihood; a coat patched with slang and
+gaping with inconsistencies, which he put on or off at will.  Out on
+the starlit mesas he had metaphorically shed his coat.  He was at home.
+Here there were no men to joke about his awkwardness and his ungainly
+height.  A wanderer by nature, he looked upon space as his kingdom.
+Great distances were but the highways of his heritage, each promising
+new vistas, new adventuring.  His wayside fires were his altars, their
+smoke the incense to his gods.  A true adventurer, albeit timid, he
+journeyed not knowing why, but rather because he knew no reason for not
+journeying.  Wrapped in his vague imaginings he swung along, peering
+ahead from time to time until at last he saw upon the far background of
+the night a darker something shaped like a tiny mound.  "That's her!"
+he exclaimed, joyously, and quickened his pace.  "But Gee Gosh!  I
+guess them fellas forgot I was afoot.  That hill looks turruble far
+off.  Mebby because it's dark."  The distant hill seemed to keep pace
+ahead of him, sliding away into the southern night as he advanced.
+Having that stubbornness so frequently associated with timidity, he
+plodded on, determined to top the hill before morning.  "Them fellas as
+rides don't know how far things are," he commented.  "But, anyhow, the
+folks at that hotel will sure know I want the job, walkin' all night
+for it."
+
+Gradually the outline of the hill became bolder.  Sundown estimated
+that he had been traveling several hours, when the going stiffened to a
+slow grade.  Presently the grade became steep and rocky.  Thus far the
+road had led straight south.  Now it swung to the west and skirted the
+base of the hill in a gradual ascent.  Then it swung back again
+following a fairly easy slope to the top.  His optimism waned as he saw
+no light ahead.  The night grew colder.  The stars flickered as the
+wind of the dawn, whispering over the grasses, touched his face.  He
+paused for a moment on the crest of the hill, turned to look back, and
+then started down the slope.  It was steep and rutted.  He had not gone
+far when he stumbled and fell.  His blanket-roll had pitched ahead of
+him.  He fumbled about for it and finally found it.  "Them as believes
+in signs would say it was about time to go to roost," he remarked,
+nursing his knee that had been cut on a fragment of ragged tufa.  A
+coyote wailed.  Sundown started up.  "Some lonesome.  But she sure is
+one grand old night!  Guess I'll turn in."
+
+He rolled in his blankets.  Hardly had he adjusted his length of limb
+to the unevenness of the ground when he fell asleep.  He had come
+twenty-five miles across the midnight mesas.  Five miles below him was
+his destination, shrouded by the night, but visioned in his dreams as a
+palatial summer resort, aglow with lights and eagerly awaiting the
+coming of the new cook.
+
+The dawn, edging its slow way across the mesas, struck palely on the
+hillside where he slept.  A rabbit, huddled beneath a scrub-cedar,
+hopped to the middle of the road and sat up, staring with moveless eyes
+at the motionless hump of blanket near the road.  In a flash the wide
+mesas were tinged with gold as the smouldering red sun rose, to march
+unclouded to the western sea.
+
+
+Midway between the town of Antelope and the river Concho is the
+water-hole.  The land immediately surrounding the water-hole is
+enclosed with a barb-wire fence.  Within the enclosure is a ranch-house
+painted white, a scrub-cedar corral, a small stable, and a lean-to
+shading the water-hole from the desert sun.  The place is altogether
+neat and habitable.  It is rather a surprise to the chance wayfarer to
+find the ranch uninhabited.  As desolate as a stranded steamer on a mud
+bank, it stands in the center of several hundred acres of desert,
+incapable, without irrigation, of producing anything more edible than
+lizards and horned toads.  Why a homesteader should have chosen to
+locate there is a mystery.  His reason for abandoning the place is
+glaringly obvious.  Though failure be written in every angle and nook
+of the homestead, it is the failure of large-hearted enterprise, of
+daring to attempt, of striving to make the desert bloom, and not the
+failure of indolence or sloth.
+
+Western humor like Western topography is apt to be more or less rugged.
+Between the high gateposts of the yard enclosure there is a great,
+twelve-foot sign lettered in black.  It reads: "American Hotel."  A
+band of happy cowboys appropriated the sign when on a visit to
+Antelope, pressed a Mexican freighter to pack it thirty miles across
+the desert, and nailed it above the gateway of the water-hole ranch.
+It is a standing joke among the cattle- and sheep-men of the Concho
+Valley.
+
+Sundown sat up and gazed about.  The rabbit, startled out of its
+ordinary resourcefulness, stiffened.  The delicate nostrils ceased
+twitching.  "Good mornin', little fella!  You been travelin' all night
+too?"  And Sundown yawned and stretched.  Down the road sped a brown
+exclamation mark with a white dot at its visible end.  "Guess he don't
+have to travel nights to get 'most anywhere," laughed Sundown.  He
+kicked back his blankets and rose stiffly.  The luxury of his yawn was
+stifled as he saw below him the ranchhouse with some strange kind of a
+sign above its gate.  "If that's the hotel," he said as he corded his
+blankets, "she don't look much bigger than me own.  But distances is
+mighty deceivin' in this here open-face country."  For a moment he
+stood on the hillside, a gaunt, lonely figure, gazing out across the
+limitless mesas.  Then he jogged down the grade, whistling.
+
+As he drew near the ranch his whistling ceased and his expression
+changed to one of quizzical uncertainty.  "That's the sign, all
+right,--'American Hotel,'--but the hotel part ain't livin' up to the
+sign.  But some hotels is like that; mostly front."
+
+He opened the ranch-house gate and strode to the door.  He knocked
+timidly.  Then he dropped his blanket-roll and stepped to a window.
+Through the grimy glass he saw an empty, board-walled room, a slant of
+sunlight across the floor, and in the sunlight a rusted stove.  He
+walked back to the gateway and stood gazing at the sign.  He peered
+round helplessly.  Then a slow grin illumined his face.  "Why," he
+exclaimed, "it's--it's a joke.  Reckon the proprietor must be out
+huntin' up trade.  And accordin' to that he won't be back direct."
+
+He wandered about the place like a stray cat in a strange attic,
+timorous and curious.  Ordinarily he would have considered himself
+fortunate.  The house offered shelter and seclusion.  There was clear
+cold water to drink and a stove on which to cook.  As he thought of the
+stove the latitude and longitude of the "joke" dawned upon him with
+full significance.  He drank at the water-hole and, gathering a few
+sticks, built a fire.  From his blankets he took a tin can, drew a wad
+of newspaper from it, and made coffee.  Then he cast about for
+something to eat.  "Now, if I was a cow--" he began, when he suddenly
+remembered the rabbit.  "Reckon he's got relations hoppin' around in
+them bushes."  He picked up a stick and started for the gate.
+
+Not far from the ranch he saw a rabbit crouched beneath a clump of
+brush.  He flung his stick and missed.  The rabbit ran to another bush
+and stopped.  Encouraged by the little animal's nonchalance, he dashed
+after it with a wild and startling whoop.  The rabbit circled the brush
+and set off at right angles to his pursuer's course.  Sundown made the
+turn, but it was "on one wheel" so to speak.  His foot caught in a
+prairie-dog hole and he dove headlong with an exclamation that sounded
+as much like "Whump!" as anything else.  He uttered another and less
+forced exclamation when he discovered in the tangle of brush that had
+broken his fall, another rabbit that had not survived his sudden
+visitation.  He picked up the limp, furry shape.  "Asleep at the
+switch," he said.  "He ain't much bigger than a whisper, but he's
+breakfast."
+
+Rabbit, fried on a stove-lid, makes a pretty satisfying meal when
+eating ceases to be a pleasure and becomes a necessity.  Sundown wisely
+reserved a portion of his kill for future consumption.
+
+As the morning grew warmer, he fell asleep in the shade of the
+ranch-house.  Late in the afternoon he wakened, went into the house and
+made coffee.  After the coffee he came out, rolled a cigarette, and sat
+smoking and gazing out across the afternoon mesas.  "I feel it comin',"
+he said to himself.  "And it's a good one, so I guess I'll put her in
+me book."
+
+He rummaged in his blankets and unearthed a grimy, tattered notebook.
+Lubricating the blunt point of a stubby pencil he set to work.  When he
+had finished, the sun was close to the horizon.  He sat back and gazed
+sideways at his effort.  "I'll try her on meself," he said, drawing up
+his leg and resting the notebook against his lean knee.  "Wish I could
+stand off and listen to meself," he muttered.  "Kind o' get the defect
+better." Then he read laboriously:--
+
+
+  "Bo, it's goin' to be hot all right;
+    Sun's a floodin' the eastern range.
+  Mebby it was kind o' cold last night,
+    But there's nothin' like havin' a little change.
+  Money?  No.  Only jest room for me;
+    Mountings and valleys and plains and such.
+  Ain't I got eyes that was made to see?
+    Ain't I got ears?  But they don't hear much:
+  Only a kind of a inside song,
+    Like when the grasshopper quits his sad,
+  And says: 'Rickety-chick!  Why, there is nothin' wrong!'
+    And after the coffee, things ain't so bad."
+
+
+"Huh!  Sounds all right for a starter.  Ladies and them as came with
+you, I will now spiel the next section."
+
+
+  "The wind is makin' my bed for me,
+    Smoothin' the grass where I'm goin' to flop,
+  When the quails roost up in the live-oak tree,
+    And my legs feel like as they want to stop.
+  Pal or no pal, it's about the same,
+    For nobody knows how you feel inside.
+  Hittin' the grit is a lonesome game,--
+    But quit it?  No matter how hard I tried.
+  But mebby I will when that inside song
+    Stops a-buzzin' like bees that's mad,
+  Grumblin' together: 'There's nothin' wrong!'
+    And--after the coffee things ain't so bad."
+
+
+"Bees ain't so darned happy, either.  They're too busy.  Guess it's a
+good thing I went back to me grasshopper in the last verse.  And now,
+ladies and gents, this is posituvely the last appearance of the noted
+electrocutionist, Sundown Slim; so, listen."
+
+
+  "Ladies, I've beat it from Los to Maine.
+    And, gents, not knowin' jest what to do,
+  I turned and slippered it back again,
+    Wantin' to see, jest the same as you.
+  Ridin' rods and a-dodgin' flies;
+    Eatin' at times when me luck was good.
+  Spielin' the con to the easy guys,
+    But never jest makin' it understood,
+  Even to me, why that inside song
+    Kep' a-handin' me out the glad,
+  Like the grasshopper singin': 'There's nothin' wrong!'
+    And--after the coffee things ain't so bad."
+
+
+Sundown grinned with unalloyed pleasure.  His mythical audience seemed
+to await a few words, so he rose stiffly, and struck an attitude
+somewhat akin to that of Henry Irving standing beside a milk-can and
+contemplating the village pump.  "It gives me great pleasure to inform
+you"--he hesitated and cleared his throat--"that them there words of
+mine was expired by half a rabbit--small--and two cans of coffee.  Had
+I been fed up like youse"--and he bowed grandly--"there's no tellin'
+what I might 'a' writ.  Thankin' you for the box-office receipts, I am
+yours to demand, Sundown Slim, of Outdoors, Anywhere, till further
+notice."
+
+Then he marched histrionically to the ranchhouse and made a fire in the
+rusted stove.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+THIRTY MILES TO THE CONCHO
+
+John Corliss rode up to the water-hole, dismounted, and pushed through
+the gate.  His horse "Chinook" watched him with gently inquisitive
+eyes.  Chinook was not accustomed to inattention when he was thirsty.
+He had covered the thirty miles from the Concho Ranch in five long,
+dry, and dusty hours.  He nickered.  "In a minute," said Corliss.  Then
+he knocked at the ranch-house door.  Riders of the Concho usually
+strode jingling into the ranch-house without formality.  Corliss,
+however, had been gazing at the lean stovepipe for hours before he
+finally decided that there was smoke rising from it.  He knocked a
+second time.
+
+"She ain't locked," came in a rusty, smothered voice.
+
+Corliss shoved the door open with his knee.  The interior was heavy
+with smoke.  Near the stove knelt Sundown trying to encourage the smoke
+to more perpendicular behavior.  He coughed.  "She ain't good in her
+intentions, this here stove.  One time she goes and the next time she
+stays and takes a smoke.  Her innards is out of gear.  Whew!"
+
+"The damper has slipped down," said Corliss.
+
+"Her little ole chest-pertector is kind o' worked down toward her
+stummick.  There, now she feels better a'ready."
+
+"Cooking chuck?" queried Corliss, glancing round the bare room.
+
+"Rabbit," replied Sundown.  "When I hit this here hotel I was hungry.
+I seen a rabbit--not this here one, but the other one.  This one was
+settin' in a bunch of-brush on me right-of-way.  I was behind and
+runnin' to make up time.  I kind o' seen the leetle prairie-dog give me
+the red to slow down, but it was too late.  Hit his cyclone cellar with
+me right driver, and got wrecked.  This here leetle wad o' cotton was
+under me steam-chest.  No other passengers hurt, except the engineer."
+
+Corliss laughed.  "You're a railroad man, I take it.  Belong in this
+country?"
+
+Sundown rose from his knees and backed away from the stove.  "Nope.
+Don't belong anywhere, I guess.  My address when I'm to home is Sundown
+Slim, Outdoors, Anywhere, speakin' general."
+
+"Come in afoot?"
+
+"Uhuh.  Kind o' thought I'd get a job.  Fellas at Antelope told me they
+wanted a cook at this hotel.  I reckon they do--and some boarders and
+somethin' to cook."
+
+"That's one of their jokes.  Pretty stiff joke, sending you in here
+afoot."
+
+"Oh, I ain't sore, mister.  They stole me nanny, all right, but I feel
+jest as good here as anywhere."
+
+Corliss led Chinook to the water-hole.  Sundown followed.
+
+"Ever think how many kinds of water they was?" queried Sundown.  "Some
+is jest water; then they's some got a taste; then some's jest wet, but
+this here is fine!  Felt like jumpin' in and drinkin' from the bottom
+up when I lit here.  Where do you live?"
+
+"On the Concho, thirty miles south."
+
+"Any towns in between?"
+
+Corliss smiled.  "No, there isn't a fence or a house from here to the
+ranch."
+
+"Gee Gosh!  Any cows in this country?"
+
+"Yes.  The Concho runs ten thousand head on the range."
+
+"Had your supper?"
+
+"No.  I was late getting away from the ranch.  Expected to make
+Antelope, but I guess I'll bush here to-night."
+
+"Well, seein' you're the first boarder at me hotel, I'll pass the
+hash."  And Sundown stepped into the house and returned with the half
+rabbit.  "I got some coffee, too.  I can cook to beat the band when I
+got somethin' to cook.  Help yourself, pardner.  What's mine is
+anybody's that's hungry.  I et the other half."
+
+"Don't mind if I do.  Thanks.  Say, you can cook?"
+
+"Next to writin' po'try it's me long suit."
+
+"Well, I'm no judge of poetry," said Corliss.  "This rabbit tastes
+pretty good."
+
+"You ain't a cop, be you?" queried Sundown.
+
+"No.  Why?"
+
+"Nothin'.  I was jest wonderin'."
+
+"You have traveled some, I take it."
+
+"Me?  Say!  I'm the ramblin' son with the nervous feet.  Been round the
+world and back again on them same feet, and some freights.  Had a pal
+onct.  He was a college guy.  Run on to him on a cattle-boat.  He writ
+po'try that was the real thing!  It's ketchin' and I guess I caught it
+from him.  He was a good little pal."
+
+"What became of him?"
+
+"I dunno, pardner.  They was a wreck--but guess I'll get that coffee."
+
+"How did you cross the Beaver Dam?" inquired Corliss as Sundown
+reappeared with his can of coffee.
+
+"So that's what you call that creek back there?  Well, it don't need no
+Beaver hitched on to it to say what I'd call it.  I come through last
+night, but I'm dry now."
+
+The cattle-man proffered Sundown tobacco and papers.  They smoked and
+gazed at the stars.  "Said your friend was a college man.  What was his
+name?" queried Corliss, turning to glance at Sundown.
+
+"Well, his real name was Billy Corliss, but I called him jest Bill."
+
+"Corliss!  When did you lose track of him?"
+
+"In that wreck, 'bout a year ago.  We was ridin' a fast freight goin'
+west.  He said he was goin' home, but he never said where it was.  Hit
+a open switch--so they said after--and when they pulled the stitches,
+and took that plaster dingus off me leg, I starts out huntin' for
+Billy.  Nobody knowed anything about him.  Wasn't no signs in the
+wreck,--so they said.  You see I was in that fadeaway joint six weeks."
+
+"What did he look like?"
+
+"Billy?  More like a girl than a man.  Slim-like, with blue eyes and
+kind o' bright, wavy-like hair.  He never said nothin' about his folks.
+He was a awful quiet kid."
+
+John Corliss studied Sundown's face.  "You say he was killed in a
+wreck?"
+
+"I ain't sure.  But I reckon he was.  It was a bad one.  He was ridin'
+a empty, just ahead of me.  Then the whole train buckled up and
+somethin' hit me on the lid.  That's all I remember, till after."
+
+"What are you going to do now?  Go back to Antelope?"
+
+"Me?  Guess I will.  I was lookin' for a job cooking but the pay ain't
+right here.  What you lookin' at me that way for?"
+
+"Sit still.  I'm all right.  My brother Will left home three years ago.
+Didn't say a word to any one.  He'd been to school East, and he wrote
+some things for the magazines--poetry.  I was wondering--"
+
+"Say, mister, what's your name?"
+
+"John Corliss."
+
+"Gee Gosh!  I knowed when I et that rabbit this mornin' that somethin'
+was goin' to happen.  Thought it was po'try, but I was mistook."
+
+"So you ate your half of the rabbit this morning, eh?"
+
+"Sure!!--"
+
+"And you gave me the rest.  You sure are loco."
+
+"Mebby I be.  Anyhow, I'm used to bein' hungry.  They ain't so much of
+me to keep as you--crossways, I mean.  Of course, up and down--"
+
+"Well, I'm right sorry," said Corliss.  "You're the queerest Hobo I
+ever saw."
+
+"That's what they all say," said Sundown, grinning.  "I ain't no common
+hand-out grabber, not me!  I learnt things from Bill.  He had class!"
+
+"You sure Will never said anything about the Concho, or his brother, or
+Chance?"
+
+"Chance?  Who's he?"
+
+"Wolf-dog that belonged to Will."
+
+"Gee Gosh!  Big, and long legs, and kind of long, rough hair, and deep
+in the chest and--"
+
+"That's Chance; but how did you know?"
+
+"Why, Billy writ a pome 'bout him onct.  Sold it and we lived high--for
+a week.  Sure as you live!  It was called 'Chance of the Concher.'  Gee
+Gosh!  I thought it was jest one of them poetical dogs, like."
+
+Corliss, who was not given to sentiment, smoked and pondered the
+possibility of his brother's whereabouts.  He had written to all the
+large cities asking for information from the police as to the
+probability of their being able to locate his brother.  The answers had
+not been encouraging.  At the end of three years he practically gave up
+making inquiry and turned his whole attention to the management of the
+Concho.  There had been trouble between the cattle and sheep interests
+and time had passed more swiftly than he had realized.  His meeting
+with Sundown had awakened the old regret for his brother's uncalled-for
+disappearance.  Had he been positive that his brother had been killed
+in the wreck he would have felt a kind of relief.  As it was, the
+uncertainty as to his whereabouts, his welfare, worried and perplexed
+him, especially in view of the fact that he was on his way to Antelope
+to present to the Forest Service a petition from the cattle-men of the
+valley for grazing allotments.  The sheep had been destroying the
+grazing on the west side of the river.  There had been bickerings and
+finally an open declaration of war against David Loring, the old
+sheep-man of the valley.  Corliss wished to avoid friction with David
+Loring.  Their ranches were opposite each other.  And as Corliss was
+known as level-headed and shrewd, it devolved upon him to present in
+person the complaint and petition of his brother cattle-men.  Argument
+with David Loring, as he had passed the latter's homestead that
+morning, had delayed him on his journey to Antelope.  Presently he got
+up and entered the ranch-house.  Sundown followed and poked about in
+the corners of the room.  He found a bundle of gunny-sacks and
+spreading them on the floor, laid his blankets on them.
+
+Corliss stepped out and led Chinook to the distant mesa and picketed
+him for the night.  As he returned, he considered the advisability of
+hiring the tramp to cook until his own cook returned from Phoenix.  He
+entered the house, kicked off his leather chaps, tossed his spurs into
+a corner, and made a bed of his saddle-blankets and saddle.  "I'll be
+starting early," he said as he drew off his boots.  "What are you
+intending to do next?"
+
+"Me?  Well, I ain't got no plans.  Beat it back to Antelope, I guess.
+Say, mister, do you think my pal was your brother?"
+
+"I don't know.  From your description I should say so.  See here.  I
+don't know you, but I need a cook.  The Concho is thirty miles in.  I'm
+headed the other way, but if you are game to walk it, I'll see if I can
+use you."
+
+"Me!  You ain't givin' me another josh, be you?"
+
+"Never a josh.  You won't think so when you get to punchin' dough for
+fifteen hungry cowboys.  Want to try it?"
+
+"Say, mister, I'm just comin' to.  A guy told me in Antelope that they
+was a John Corliss--only he said Jack--what was needin' a cook.  Just
+thunk of it, seein' as I was thinkin' of Billy most ever since I met
+you.  Are you the one?"
+
+"Guess I am," said Corliss, smiling.  "It's up to you."
+
+"Say, mister, that listens like home more'n anything I heard since I
+was a kid.  I can sure cook, but I ain't no rider."
+
+"How long would it take you to foot it to the Concho?"
+
+"Oh, travelin' easy, say 'bout eight hours."
+
+"Don't see that you need a horse, then, even if there was one handy."
+
+"Nope.  I don't need no horse.  All I need is a job."
+
+"All right.  You'd have to travel thirty miles either way--to get out
+of here.  I won't be there, but you can tell my foreman, Bud Shoop,
+that I sent you in."
+
+"And I'll jest be tellin' him that 'bout twelve, to-morrow.  I sure
+wisht Billy was here.  He'd sure be glad to know his ole pal was
+cookin' for his brother.  Me for the shavin's.  And say, thanks,
+pardner.  Reckon they ain't all jokers in Arizona."
+
+"No.  There are a few that can't make or take one," said Corliss.
+"Hope you'll make the ranch all right."
+
+"I'm there!  Next to cookin' and writin' po'try, walkin' is me long
+suit."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+PIE; AND SEPTEMBER MORN
+
+When a Westerner, a native-born son of the outlands, likes a man, he
+likes him.  That is all there is to it.  His horses, blankets, money,
+provender, and even his saddle are at his friend's disposal.  If the
+friend prove worthy,--and your Westerner is shrewd,--a lifelong
+friendship is the result.  If the friend prove unworthy, it is well for
+him to seek other latitudes, for the average man of the outlands has a
+peculiar and deep-seated pride which is apt to manifest itself in
+prompt and vigorous action when touched by ridicule or ingratitude.
+There are many Davids and Jonathans in the sagebrush country.  David
+may have flocks and herds, and Jonathan may have naught but the care of
+them.  David may possess lands and water-rights, and Jonathan nothing
+more than a pick, a shovel, a pan, and an incurable itch for placering.
+A Westerner likes a man for what he is and not because of his vocation.
+He usually proceeds cautiously in the matter of friendship, but sudden
+and instinctive friendships are not infrequent.  It so happened that
+John Corliss had taken a liking to the Hobo, Sundown Slim.  Knowing a
+great deal more about cattle than about psychology, the rancher wasted
+no time in trying to analyze his feelings.  If the tramp had courage
+enough to walk another thirty miles across the mesas to get a job
+cooking, there must be something to him besides legs.  Possibly the
+cattle-man felt that he was paying a tribute to the memory of his
+brother.  In any event, he greeted Sundown next morning as the latter
+came to the water-hole to drink.  "You can't lose your way," he said,
+pointing across the mesa.  "Just keep to the road.  The first ranch on
+the right is the Concho.  Good luck!"  And he led Chinook through the
+gateway.  In an hour he had topped the hill.  He reined Chinook round.
+He saw a tiny figure far to the south.  Half in joke he waved his
+sombrero.  Sundown, who had glanced back from time to time, saw the
+salute and answered it with a sweeping gesture of his lean arm.  "And
+now," he said, "I got the whole works to meself.  That Concho guy is a
+mighty fine-lookin' young fella, but he don't look like Billy.  Rides
+that hoss easy-like jest as if he was settin' in a rockin'-chair
+knittin' socks.  But I reckon he could flash up if you stepped on his
+tail.  I sure ain't goin' to."
+
+
+It was mid-afternoon, when Sundown, gaunt and weary, arrived at the
+Concho.  He was faint for lack of food and water.  The Mexican cook, or
+rather the cook's assistant, was the only one present when Sundown
+drifted in, for the Concho was, in the parlance of the riders, "A man's
+ranch from chuck to sunup, and never a skirt on the clothes-line."
+
+Not until evening was Sundown able to make his errand known, and
+appreciated.  A group of riders swung in in a swirl of dust,
+dismounted, and, as if by magic, the yard was empty of horses.
+
+The riders disappeared in the bunk-house to wash and make ready for
+supper.  One of the men, who had spoken to him in passing, reappeared.
+
+"Lookin' for the boss?" he asked.
+
+"Nope.  I seen him.  I'm lookin' for Mr. Shoop."
+
+"All right, pardner.  Saw off the mister and size me up.  I'm him."
+
+"The boss said I was to be cook," said Sundown, rather awed by the
+personality of the bluff foreman.
+
+"Meet him at Antelope?"
+
+"No.  It was the American Hotel.  He said for me to tell you if I
+walked in I could get a job cookin'."
+
+"All right.  What he says goes.  Had anything to eat recent?"
+
+"I et a half a rabbit yesterday mornin'."
+
+"Well, sufferin' shucks!  You fan it right in here!"
+
+Later that evening, Sundown straggled out to the corral and stood
+watching the saddle-stock of the Concho pull hay from the long
+feed-rack and munch lazily.  Suddenly he jerked up his hand and jumped
+round.  The men, loafing in front of the bunk-house, laughed.  Chance,
+the great wolf-dog, was critically inspecting the tramp's legs.
+
+Sundown was a self-confessed coward, physically.  Above all things he
+feared dogs.  His reception by the men, aside from Bud Shoop's
+greeting, had been cool.  Even the friendship of a dog seemed
+acceptable at that moment.  Plodding along the weary miles between the
+water-hole and the ranch, he had, in his way, decided to turn over a
+new leaf: to ignore the insistent call of the road and settle down to
+something worth while.  Childishly egotistical, he felt in a vague way
+that his virtuous intent was not appreciated, not reasoning that the
+men knew nothing of his wanderings, nor cared to know anything other
+than as to his ability to cook.  So he timidly stroked the long muzzle
+of the wolf-dog, and was agreeably surprised to find that Chance seemed
+to like it.  In fact, Chance, having an instinct superior to that of
+his men companions of the Concho, recognized in the gaunt and lonely
+figure a kindred spirit; a being that had the wander-fever in its
+veins; that was forever searching for the undiscoverable, the something
+just beyond the visible boundaries of day.  The dog, part Russian
+wolf-hound and part Great Dane, deep-chested, swift and powerful, shook
+his shaggy coat and sneezed.  Sundown jumped.  Again the men laughed.
+"You and me's built about alike--for speed," he said, endeavoring to
+convey his friendly intent through compliment.  "Did you ever ketch a
+rabbit?"
+
+Chance whined.  Possibly he understood.  In any event, he leaped
+playfully against Sundown's chest and stood with his paws on the
+tramp's shoulders.  Sundown shrunk back against the corral bars.  "Go
+to it," he said, trying to cover his fear with a jest, "if you like
+bones."
+
+From behind him came a rush of feet.  "Great Scott!" exclaimed Shoop.
+"Come 'ere, Chance.  I sure didn't know he was loose."
+
+The dog dropped to his feet and wagged his tail inquiringly.
+
+"Chance--there--he don't cotton to strangers," explained Shoop,
+slipping his hand in the wolf-dog's collar.  "Did he nip you?"
+
+"Nope.  But me and him ain't strangers, mister.  You see, I knowed the
+boss's brother Billy, what passed over in a wreck.  He used to own
+Chance, so the boss says."
+
+"You knew Billy!  But Chance don't know that.  I'll chain him up till
+he gets used to seein' you 'round."
+
+Shoop led the dog to the stable.  Sundown felt relieved.  The
+solicitude of the foreman, impersonal as it was, made him happier.
+
+Next morning he was installed as cook.  He did fairly well, and the men
+rode away joking about the new "dough-puncher."
+
+Then it was that Sundown had an inspiration--not to write verse, but to
+manufacture pies.  He knew that the great American appetite is keen for
+pies.  Finding plenty of material,--dried apples, dried prunes, and
+apricots,--he set to work, having in mind former experiences on the
+various "east-sides" of various cities.  Determined that his reputation
+should rest not alone upon flavor, he borrowed a huge Mexican spur from
+his assistant and immersed it in a pan of boiling water.  "And speakin'
+of locality color," he murmured, grinning at the possibilities before
+him, "how's that, Johnny?"  And he rolled out a thin layer of pie-dough
+and taking the spur for a "pattern-wheel," he indented a free-hand
+sketch of the Concho brand on the immaculate dough.  Next he wheeled
+out a rather wobbly cayuse, then an equally wobbly and ferocious cow.
+Each pie came from the oven with some symbol of the range printed upon
+it, the general effect being enhanced by the upheaval of the piecrust
+in the process of baking.  When the punchers rode in that evening and
+entered the messroom, they sniffed knowingly.  But not until the
+psychological moment did Sundown parade his pies.  Then he stepped to
+the kitchen and, with the lordly gesture of a Michael Angelo unveiling
+a statue for the approval of Latin princes, commanded the assistant to
+"Bring forth them pies."  And they were "brung."
+
+Each astonished puncher was gravely presented with a whole
+pie--bubbling kine, dimpled cayuses, and sprawling spurs.  Silence--as
+silence is wont to do in dramatic moments--reigned supreme.  Then it
+was that the purveyor of spontaneous Western exclamations missed his
+opportunity, being elsewhere at the time.
+
+"Whoop!  Let 'er buck!" exclaimed Bud Shoop, swinging an imaginary hat
+and rocking from side to side.
+
+"So-o, Boss!" exclaimed a puncher from the Middle West.
+
+"Hand-made and silver mounted," remarked another.  "Hate to eat 'em."
+
+"Trade you my pinto for a steer," offered still another.
+
+"Nothin" doin'!  That hoss of yours has got colic--bad."
+
+"Swap this here goat for that rooster of yours," said "Sinker," a youth
+whose early education in art had been neglected.
+
+"Goat?  You box-head!  That's a calf.  Kind 'a' mired down, but it's
+sure a calf.  And this ain't no rooster.  This here's a eagle settin'
+on his eggs.  You need specs."
+
+"Noah has sure been herdin' 'em in," said another puncher.
+
+Meanwhile, "Noah" stood in the messroom doorway, arms folded and face
+beaming.  His attitude invited applause, and won it.  Eventually his
+reputation as a "pie-artist" spread far and wide.  When it leaked out
+that he had wrought his masterpieces with a spur, there was some
+murmuring.  Being assured by the assistant that the spur had been
+previously boiled, the murmuring changed to approval.  "That new cook
+was sure a original cuss!  Stickin' right to the range in his
+picture-work.  Had them there old Hopi picture-writin's on the rocks
+beat a mile."  And the like.
+
+Inspired by a sense of repletion, conducive to generosity and humor,
+the boys presented Sundown with a pair of large-rowelled Mexican spurs,
+silver-mounted and altogether formidable.  Like many an historic
+adventurer, he had won his spurs by a _tour-de-force_ that swept his
+compatriots off their feet; innuendo if you will--but the average
+cowboy is capable of assimilating much pie.
+
+Although Sundown was offered the use of a bunk in the men's quarters,
+he chose to sleep in a box-stall in the stable, explaining that he was
+accustomed to sleep in all kinds of places, and that the unused
+box-stall with fresh clean straw and blankets would make a very
+comfortable bedroom.  His reason for declining a place with the men
+became apparent about midnight.
+
+Bud Shoop had, in a bluff, offhand way, given him a flannel shirt,
+overalls, an old flop-brimmed Stetson, and, much to Sundown's delight,
+a pair of old riding-boots.  Hitherto, Sundown had been too preoccupied
+with culinary matters to pay much attention to his clothing.
+Incidentally he was spending not a little time in getting accustomed to
+his spurs, which he wore upon all occasions, clinking and clanking
+about the cook-room, a veritable Don Quixote of the (kitchen) range.
+
+The arrival of Corliss, three days after Sundown's advent, had a
+stimulating effect on the new cook.  He determined to make the best
+appearance possible.
+
+The myriad Arizona stars burned with darting radiance, in thin,
+unwavering shafts of splintered fire.  The moon, coldly brilliant,
+sharp-edged and flat like a disk of silver paper, touched the twinkling
+aspens with a pallid glow and stamped a distorted silhouette of the
+low-roofed ranch-buildings on the hard-packed earth.  In the corral the
+shadow of a restless pony drifted back and forth.  Chance, chained to a
+post near the bunk-house, shook himself and sniffed the keen air, for
+just at that moment the stable door had opened and a ghostly figure
+appeared; a figure that shivered in the moonlight.  The dog bristled
+and whined.  "S-s-s-h!" whispered Sundown.  "It's me, ain't it?"
+
+With his bundle of clothes beneath his arm, he picked a hesitating
+course across the yard and deposited the bundle beside the
+water-trough.  Chance, not altogether satisfied with Sundown's
+assurance, proclaimed his distrust by a long nerve-reaching howl.  Some
+one in the bunkhouse muttered.  Sundown squatted hastily in the shadow
+of the trough.  Bud Shoop rose from his bunk and crept to the door.  He
+saw nothing unusual, and was about to return to his bed when an
+apparition rose slowly from behind the water-trough.  The foreman drew
+back in the shadow of the doorway and watched.
+
+Sundown's bath was extensive as to territory but brief as to duration.
+He dried himself with a gunny-sack and slipped shivering into his new
+raiment.  "That there September Morn ain't got nothin' on me except
+looks," he spluttered.  "And she is welcome to the looks.  Shirts and
+pants for mine!"
+
+Then he crept back to his blankets and slept the sleep of one who has
+atoned for his sins of omission and suffered righteously in the ordeal.
+
+Bud Shoop wanted to laugh, but forgot to do it.  Instead he padded back
+to his bunk and lay awake pondering.  "Takin' a bath sure does make a
+fella feel like the fella he wants to feel like--but in the
+drinkin'-trough, at night . . .!  I reckon that there Hobo ain't right
+in his head."
+
+Sundown dreamed that he was chasing an elusive rabbit over endless
+wastes of sand and greasewood.  With him ran a phantom dog, a lean,
+shaggy shape that raced tirelessly.  When Sundown wanted to give up the
+dream-hunt and rest, the dog would urge him on with whimperings and
+short, explosive barks of impatience.  Presently the dream-dog ran
+ahead and disappeared beyond a rise.  Sundown sank to the desert and
+slept.  He dreamed within his dream that the dog was curled beside him.
+He put out his hand and stroked the dog's head.  Presently a side of
+the box-stall took outline.  A ray of sunlight filtered in; sunlight
+flecked with fine golden dust.  The straw rustled at his side and he
+sat up quickly.  Chance, stretching himself and yawning, showed his
+long, white fangs in an elaborated dog-smile.  "Gee Gosh!" exclaimed
+Sundown, eyeing the dog sideways, "so it's you, eh?  You wasn't foolin'
+me, then, when you said we'd be pals?"
+
+Chance settled down in the straw again and sighed contentedly.
+
+From the corral came the sound of horses running.  The boys were
+catching up their ponies for the day's work.  Chance pricked his ears.
+"I guess it's up to me and you to move lively," said Sundown,
+stretching and groaning.  "We're sleepin' late, account of them
+midnight abolitions."
+
+He rose and limped to the doorway.  Chance followed him, evidently
+quite uninterested in the activities outside.  Would this queer,
+ungainly man-thing saddle a horse and ride with the others, or would he
+now depart on foot, taking the trail to Antelope?  Chance knew quite as
+well as did the men that something unusual was in the air.  Hi Wingle,
+the cook, had returned unexpectedly that night.  Chance had listened
+gravely while his master had told Bud Shoop that "the outfit" would
+move over to Bald Knoll in the morning.  Then the dog had barked and
+capered about, anticipating a break in the monotony of ranch-life.
+
+Sundown hurried to the cook-room.  Chance at his heels.  Hi Wingle was
+already installed in his old quarters, but he greeted Sundown heartily,
+and set him to work helping.
+
+After breakfast, Bud Shoop, in heavy wing chaps and trailing his spurs,
+swaggered up to Sundown.  "How you makin' it this mornin'?" he
+inquired.  There was a note of humorous good-fellowship in his voice
+that did not escape Sundown.
+
+"Doin' fine without crutches," replied Sundown, grinning.
+
+"Well, you go eat now, and I'll catch up a cayuse for you.  We're goin'
+to fan it for Bald Knoll in about ten minutes."
+
+"Do I go, too?"
+
+"Sure!  Do you think we don't eat pie only onct a year?  You bet you
+go--helpin' Hi.  Boss's orders."
+
+"Thanks--but I ain't no rider."
+
+Shoop glanced questioningly at Sundown's legs.  "Mebby not.  But if I
+owned them legs I'd contract to ride white-lightnin' bareback.  I'd
+just curl 'em 'round and grab holt of my feet when they showed up on
+the other side.  Them ain't legs; them's _cinchas_."
+
+"Mebby they ain't," sighed Sundown.  "It's the only pair I got, and I'm
+kind of used to 'em."
+
+"Did you let Chance loose?" queried the foreman.
+
+"Me?  Nix.  But he was sleepin' in the stall with me this mornin'."
+
+"Heard him goin' on last night.  Thought mebby a coyote or a wolf had
+strayed in to get a drink."
+
+"Get a drink!  Can't they get a drink up in them hills?"
+
+"Sure!  But they kind of fancy the flavor of the water-trough.  They
+come in frequent.  But you better fan it for chuck.  See you later."
+
+
+Sundown hurried through breakfast.  He was anxious to hear more about
+the habits of coyotes and wolves.  When he again came to the corral,
+many of the riders had departed.  Shoop stood waiting for John Corliss.
+
+"You said them wolves and coyotes--" began Sundown.
+
+"Yes, ding 'em!" interrupted Shoop.  "Looks like they come down last
+night.  Somethin' 's been monkeyin' with the water."
+
+"Did you ever see one--at night?" queried Sundown, nervously.
+
+"See 'em?  Why, I shot droves of 'em right from the bunk-house door.  I
+never miss a chance.  Cut loose every time I see one standin' with his
+front paws on the trough.  Get 'em every time."
+
+"Wisht I'd knowed that."
+
+"So?"
+
+"Uhuh.  I'd 'a' borrowed a gun off you and set up and watched for 'em
+myself."
+
+Bud Shoop made a pretense of tightening a cinch on Sundown's pony, that
+he might "blush unseen," as it were.
+
+Presently Corliss appeared and motioned to Shoop.  "How's the new cook
+doing?" he asked.
+
+"Fine!"
+
+Sundown retired modestly to the off-side of the pony.
+
+"Got a line on him already," said Shoop.  "First thing, Chance, here,
+took to him.  Then, next thing, he manufactures a batch of pies that
+ain't been matched on the Concho since she was a ranch.  Then, next
+thing after that, Chance slips his collar and goes and bushes with the
+Bo--sleeps with him till this mornin'.  And you can rope me for a
+parson if that walkin' wish-bone didn't get to ramblin' in his sleep
+last night and come out and take a _bath_ in the _drinkin_'-trough!
+He's got on them clothes I give him, this mornin'.  Can you copper
+that?"
+
+"Bad dream, Bud."
+
+"You wait!" said the grinning foreman.  "You watch him.  Don't pay no
+'tention to me."
+
+Corliss smiled.  Shoop's many and devious methods of estimating
+character had their humorous angles.  The rancher appreciated a joke
+quite as much as did any of his employees, but usually as a spectator
+and not a participant.  Bud Shoop had served him well and faithfully,
+tiding over many a threatened quarrel among the men by a humorous
+suggestion or a seemingly impersonal anecdote anent disputes in
+general.  So Corliss waited, meanwhile inspecting the ponies in the
+corral.  He noticed a pinto with a saddle-gall and told Shoop to turn
+the horse out on the range.
+
+"It's one of Fadeaway's string," said Shoop.
+
+"I know it.  Catch him up."
+
+Shoop, who felt that his opportunity to confirm his dream-like
+statement about Sundown's bathing, was slipping away, suddenly evolved
+a plan.  He knew that the horses had all been watered.  "Hey!" he
+called to Sundown, who stood gravely inspecting his own mount.  "Come
+over here and make this cayuse drink.  He won't for me."
+
+Shoop roped the horse and handed the rope to Sundown, who marched to
+the water-trough.  The pony sniffed at the water and threw up his head.
+"I reckoned that was it!" said Shoop.
+
+"What?" queried Corliss, meanwhile watching Sundown's face.
+
+"Oh, some dam' coyote's been paddlin' in that trough again.  No wonder
+the hosses won't drink this mornin'.  I don't blame 'em."
+
+Sundown rolled a frightened eye and tried to look at everything but his
+companions.  Corliss and Shoop exploded simultaneously.  Slowly the
+light of understanding dawned, rose, and radiated in the dull red of
+the new cook's face.  He was hurt and a bit angry.  The anticipating
+and performing of his midnight ablutions had cost Slim a mighty
+struggle, mentally and otherwise.
+
+"If you think it's any early mornin' joke to take a wash-up in that
+there Chinese coffin--why, try her yourself, about midnight."  Then he
+addressed Shoop singly.  "If I was _you_, and you got kind of
+absent-minded and done likewise, and I seen _you_, do you think I'd go
+snitch to the boss?  Nix, for it might set him to worryin'."
+
+Shoop accepted the compliment good-naturedly, for he knew he had earned
+it.  He swaggered up to Sundown and slapped him on the back.  "Cheer
+up, pardner, and listen to the good news.  I'm goin' to have that
+trough made three foot longer so it'll be more comfortable."
+
+"Thanks, but never again at night.  Guess if I hadn't been feelin'
+all-to-Gosh happy at havin' a home and a job, I'd 'a' froze stiff."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+ON THE CANON TRAIL
+
+The Loring homestead, a group of low-roofed adobe buildings blending
+with the abrupt red background of the hill which sheltered it from the
+winter winds, was a settlement in itself, providing shelter and comfort
+for the wives and children of the herders.  Each home maintained a
+small garden of flowers and vegetables.  Across the somber brown of the
+'dobe walls hung strings of chiles drying in the sun.  Gay blossoms,
+neatly kept garden rows, red ollas hanging in the shade of cypress and
+acacia, the rose-bordered plaza on which fronted the house of the
+patron, the gigantic windmill purring lazily and turning now to the
+right, now to the left, to meet the varying breeze, the entire prospect
+was in its pastoral quietude a reflection of Senora Loring's sweet and
+placid nature.  Innuendo might include the windmill, and justly so, for
+the Senora in truth met the varying breeze of circumstance and
+invariably turned it to good uses, cooling the hot temper of the patron
+with a flow of soft Spanish utterances, and enriching the simple lives
+of the little colony with a charity as free and unvarying as the flow
+of the clear, cool water.
+
+Far to the east, where the mesas sloped gently to the hills, grazed the
+sheep, some twenty bands of a thousand each, and each band guarded and
+cared for by a herder and an assistant who cooked and at times
+journeyed with the lazy burros to and from the hacienda for supplies
+and provisions.
+
+David Loring, erstwhile plainsman and scout, had drifted in the early
+days from New Mexico to Arizona with his small band of sheep, and
+settled in the valley of the Concho.  He had been tolerated by the
+cattle-men, as his flock was but a speck on the limitless mesas.  As
+his holdings increased, the ranchers awakened to the fact that he had
+come to stay and that some boundary must be established to protect
+their grazing.  The Concho River was chosen as the dividing line, which
+would have been well enough had Loring been a party to the agreement.
+But he declined to recognize any boundary.  The cattle-men felt that
+they had given him fair warning in naming the Concho as the line of
+demarcation.  He, in turn, considered that his right to graze his sheep
+on any part or all of the free range had not been circumscribed.
+
+His neighbor--if cattle-men and sheep-men may under any circumstances
+be termed neighbors--was John Corliss.  The Corliss rancho was just
+across the river opposite the Loring homestead.  After the death of
+their parents the Corliss boys, John and his younger brother Will, had
+been constant visitors at the sheep-man's home, both of them enjoying
+the vivacious companionship of Eleanor Loring, and each, in his way, in
+love with the girl.  Eventually the younger brother disappeared without
+any apparent reason.  Then it was that John Corliss's visits to the
+Loring rancho became less frequent and the friendliness which had
+existed between the rival ranches became a kind of tolerant
+acquaintanceship, as that of neighbors who have nothing in common save
+the back fence.
+
+
+Fernando, the oldest herder in Loring's employ, stood shading his eyes
+from the glare of noon as he gazed toward the distant rancho.  His son
+was with the flock and the old man had just risen from preparing the
+noon meal.  "The Senorita," he murmured, and his swart features were
+lighted by a wrinkled smile.  He stepped to his tent, whipped a gay
+bandanna from his blankets and knotted it about his lean throat.  Then
+he took off his hat, gazing at it speculatively.  It was beyond
+reconstruction as to definite shape, so he tossed it to the ground, ran
+his fingers through his silver-streaked hair, and stepped out to await
+his Senorita's arrival.
+
+The sunlight flashed on silver spur and bit as the black-and-white
+pinto "Challenge" swept across the mesa toward the sheep-camp.  Into
+the camp he flung, fretting at the curb and pivoting.  His rider,
+Eleanor Loring, about to dismount, spoke to him sharply.  Still he
+continued to pivot uneasily.  "Morning, Fernando!  Challenge is fussy
+this morning.  I'll be right back!"  And she disciplined Challenge with
+bit and spur, wheeling him and loping him away from the camp.  Down the
+trail she checked him and brought him around on his hind feet.  Back
+they came, with a rush.  Fernando's deep-set eyes glowed with
+admiration as the girl "set-up" the pinto and swung to the ground with
+a laugh.  "Made him do it all over again, si.  He is the big baby, but
+he pretends he is bronco.  Don't you, Challenge?"  She dropped the
+reins and rubbed his nose.  The pony laid back his ears in simulated
+anger and nipped at her sleeve.  "Straighten your ears up, pronto!" she
+commanded, nevertheless laughing.  Then a strain of her father's blood
+was apparent as she seized the reins and stood back from the horse.
+"Because you're bluffing this morning, I'm going to make you do your
+latest trick.  Down!" she commanded.  The pony extended his foreleg and
+begged to shake hands.  "No!  Down!"  With a grunt the horse dropped to
+his knees, rolled to his side, but still kept his head raised.  "Clear
+down!  Dead, Challenge!"  The horse lay with extended neck, but
+switched his tail significantly.  "Don't you dare roll!" she said, as
+he gave evidence of getting up.  Then, at her gesture, he heaved
+himself to his feet and shook himself till the stirrups clattered.  The
+girl dropped the reins and turned to the old herder.  "I taught him
+that, Fernando.  I didn't make him do it just to show off.  He
+understands now, and he'll behave."
+
+Old Fernando grinned.  "He always have the good manner, being always
+with the Senorita," he said bowing.
+
+"Thanks, Fernando.  You always say something nice.  But I can't let you
+get ahead of me.  What a pretty scarf.  It's just right.  Do you wear
+it always, Fernando?"
+
+"It is--I know--what the vaquero of the Concho call the 'josh' that you
+give me, but I am yet not too old to like it.  It is muy pleasure, si!
+to be noticed when one is old--by the Senorita of especial."
+
+The girl's dark eyes flashed and she laughed happily.  "It's lots of
+fun, isn't it--to 'josh'?  But I came to see if you needed anything."
+
+"Nothing while still the Senorita is at thees camp."
+
+"Well, you'd better think up something, for I'm going in a minute.
+Have to make the rounds.  Dad is down with the rheumatism and as cross
+as a grizzly.  I was glad to get away.  And then, there's Madre."
+
+Fernando smiled and nodded.  He was not unfamiliar with the patron's
+temper when rheumatism obliged him to be inactive.  "He say nothing,
+the patron--that we cross the sheep to the west of the river, Senorita?"
+
+"No.  Not lately.  I don't know why he should want to.  The feed is
+good here."
+
+"I have this morning talk with the vaquero Corlees.  He tell me that
+the South Fork is dry up."
+
+"John Corliss is not usually interested in our sheep," said the girl.
+
+"No.  Of the sheep he knows nothing."  And the old herder smiled.  "But
+many times he look out there," he added, pointing toward the Loring
+rancho.
+
+"He was afraid father would catch him talking to one of the herders,"
+laughed the girl.
+
+"The vaquero Corlees he afraid of not even the bear, I think, Senorita."
+
+Eleanor Loring laughed.  "Don't you let father catch you calling him a
+bear!" she cautioned, provoking the old herder to immediate apology and
+a picturesque explanation of the fact that he had referred not to the
+patron, but the grizzly.
+
+"All right, Fernando.  I'll not forget to tell the patron that you
+called him a bear."
+
+The old herder grinned and waved farewell as she mounted and rode down
+the trail.  Practical in everyday affairs, he untied his bandanna and
+neatly folded and replaced it among his effects.  As he came out of the
+tent he picked up his hat.  He was no longer the cavalier, but a
+stoop-shouldered, shriveled little Mexican herder.  He slouched out
+toward the flock and called his son to dinner.  No, it was not so many
+years--was not the Senorita but twenty years old?--since he had wooed
+the Senora Loring, then a slim dark girl of the people, his people, but
+now the wealthy Senora, wife of his patron.  Ah, yes!  It was good that
+she should have the comfortable home and the beautiful daughter.  He
+had nothing but his beloved sheep, but did they not belong to his
+Senorita?
+
+
+At the ford the girl took the trail to the uplands, deciding to visit
+the farthest camp first, and then, if she had time, to call at one or
+two other camps on her way back to the rancho.  As the trail grew
+steeper, she curbed the impatient Challenge to a steadier pace and rode
+leisurely to the level of the timber.  On the park-like level,
+clean-swept between the boles of the great pines, she again put
+Challenge to a lope until she came to the edge on the upper mesa.  Then
+she drew up suddenly and held the horse in.
+
+Far out on the mesa was the figure of a man, on foot.  Toward him came
+a horse without bridle or saddle.  She recognized the figure as that of
+John Corliss, and she wondered why he was on foot and evidently trying
+to coax a stray horse toward him.  Presently she saw Corliss reach out
+slowly and give the horse something from his hand.  Still she was
+puzzled, and urging Challenge forward, drew nearer.  The stray, seeing
+her horse, pricked up its ears, swung round stiffly, and galloped off.
+Corliss turned and held up his hand, palm toward her.  It was their old
+greeting; a greeting that they had exchanged as boy and girl long
+before David Loring had become recognized as a power to be reckoned
+with in the Concho Valley.
+
+"Peace?" she queried, smiling, as she rode up.
+
+"Why not, Nell?"
+
+"Oh, cattle and sheep, I suppose.  There's no other reason, is there?"
+
+Corliss was silent, thinking of his brother Will.
+
+"Unless--Will--" she said, reading his thought.
+
+He shook his head, "That would be no reason for--for our quarreling,
+would it?"
+
+She laughed.  "Why, who has quarreled?  I'm sure I haven't."
+
+"But you don't seem the same--since Will left."
+
+"Neither do you, John.  You haven't called at the rancho for--well,
+about a year."
+
+"And then I was told to stay away even longer than that."
+
+"Oh, you mustn't mind Dad.  He growls--but he won't bite."
+
+Corliss glanced up at her.  His steady gray eyes were smiling, but his
+lips were grave.  "Would it make any difference if I did come?"
+
+The girl's dark face flushed and her eyes sparkled.  "Lots!  Perhaps
+you and Dad could agree to stop growling altogether.  But we won't talk
+about it.  I'd like to know what you are doing up here afoot?"
+
+"Wouldn't tell you for a dollar," he replied, smiling.  "My horse is
+over there--near the timber.  The rest of the band are at the
+waterhole."
+
+"Oh, but you will tell me!" she said.  "And before we get back to the
+canon."
+
+"I wasn't headed that way--" he began; but she interrupted quickly.
+
+"Of course.  I'm not, either."  Then she glanced at him with mischief
+scintillating in her dark eyes.  "Fernando told me you were talking
+with him this morning.  I don't see that it has done you much good."
+
+His perplexity was apparent in his silence.
+
+"Fernando is--is polite," she asserted, wheeling her horse.
+
+Corliss stood gazing at her unsmilingly.  "I want to be," he said
+presently.
+
+"Oh, John!  I--you always take things so seriously.  I was just
+'joshing' you, as Fernando says.  Of course you do!  Won't you shake
+hands?"
+
+He strode forward.  The girl drew off her gauntlet and extended her
+hand.  "Let's begin over again," she said as he shook hands with her.
+"We've both been acting."
+
+Before she was aware of his intent, he bowed his head and kissed her
+fingers.  She drew her hand away with a little cry of surprise.  She
+was pleased, yet he mistook her expression.
+
+He flushed and, confused, drew back.  "I--I didn't mean it," he said,
+as though apologizing for his gallantry.
+
+The girl's eyes dilated for an instant.  Then she laughed with all the
+joyous _abandon_ of youth and absolute health.  "You get worse and
+worse," she said, teasingly.  "Do go and have another talk with
+Fernando, John.  Then come and tell me all about it."
+
+Despite her teasing, Corliss was beginning to enjoy the play.  As a
+rule undemonstrative, he was when moved capable of intense feeling, and
+the girl knew it.  She saw a light in his eyes that she recognized; a
+light that she remembered well, for once when they were boy and girl
+together she had dared him to kiss her, and had not been disappointed.
+
+"You are cross this morning," she said, making as though to go.
+
+"Well, I've begun over again, Nell.  You wait till I get Chinook and
+we'll ride home together."
+
+"Oh, but I'm--you're not going that way," she mocked.
+
+"Yes, I am--and so are you.  If you won't wait, I'll catch you up,
+anyway.  You daren't put Challenge down the canon trail faster than a
+walk."
+
+"I daren't?  Then, catch me!"
+
+She wheeled her pony and sped toward the timber.  Corliss, running
+heavily in his high-heeled boots, caught up his own horse and leaped to
+the saddle as Chinook broke into a run.  The young rancher knew that
+the girl would do her best to beat him to the canon level.  He feared
+for her safety on the ragged trail below them.
+
+Chinook swung down the trail taking the turns without slackening his
+speed and Corliss, leaning in on the curves, dodged the sweeping
+branches.
+
+Arrived at the far edge of the timber, he could see the girl ahead of
+him, urging Challenge down the rain-gutted trail at a lope.  As she
+pulled up at an abrupt turn, she waved to him.  He accepted the
+challenge and, despite his better judgment, set spurs to Chinook.
+
+Round the next turn he reined up and leaped from his horse.  Below him
+he saw Challenge, riderless, and galloping along the edge of the
+hillside.  On the trail lay Eleanor Loring, her black hair vivid
+against the gray of the shale.  He plunged toward her and stooping
+caught her up in his arms.  "Nell!  Nell!" he cried, smoothing back her
+hair from her forehead.  "God, Nell!  I--I didn't mean it."
+
+Her eyelids quivered.  Then she gasped.  He could feel her trembling.
+Presently her eyes opened and a faint smile touched her white lips.
+"I'm all right.  Challenge fell--and I jumped clear.  Struck my head.
+Don't look at me like that!  I'm not going to die."
+
+"I'm--I'm mighty glad, Nell!" he said, helping her to a seat on the
+rock against which she had fallen.
+
+Her hands were busy with her hair.  He found her hat and handed it to
+her.  "If my head wasn't just splitting, I'd like to laugh.  You are
+the funniest man alive!  I couldn't speak, but I heard you call to me
+and tell me you didn't mean it!  Then you say you are mighty glad I'm
+alive.  Doesn't that sound funny enough to bring a person to life
+again?"
+
+"No, it's not funny.  It was a close call."
+
+She glanced at his grave, white face.  "Guess you were scared, John.  I
+didn't know you could be scared at anything.  Jack Corliss as white as
+a sheet and trembling like a--a girl!"
+
+"On account of a girl," said Corliss, smiling a little.
+
+"Now, _that_ sounds better.  What were you doing up on the mesa this
+afternoon?"
+
+"I took some lump-sugar up for my old pony, Apache.  He likes it."
+
+"Well, I'll never forget it!" she exclaimed.  "How the boys would laugh
+if they heard _you'd_ been feeding sugar to an old broken-down
+cow-pony!  You!  Why, I feel better already."
+
+"I'm right glad you do, Nell.  But you needn't say anything about the
+sugar.  I kind of like the old hoss.  Will you promise?"
+
+"I don't know.  Oh, my head!"  She went white and leaned against him.
+He put his arm around her, and her head lay back against his shoulder.
+"I'll be all right--in a minute," she murmured.
+
+He bent above her, his eyes burning.  Slowly he drew her close and
+kissed her lips.  Her eyelids quivered and lifted.  "Nell!" he
+whispered.
+
+"Did you mean it?" she murmured, smiling wanly.
+
+He drew his head back and gazed at her up-turned face.  "I'm all
+right," she said, and drew herself up beside him.  "Serves me right for
+putting Challenge down the trail so fast."
+
+As they rode homeward Corliss told her of the advent of Sundown and
+what the latter had said about the wreck and the final disappearance of
+his "pal," Will Corliss.
+
+The girl heard him silently and had nothing to say until they parted at
+the ford.  Then she turned to him.  "I don't believe Will was killed.
+I can't say why, but if he had been killed I think I should have known
+it.  Don't ask me to explain, John.  I have always expected that he
+would come back.  I have been thinking about him lately."
+
+"I can't understand it," said Corliss.  "Will always had what he
+wanted.  He owns a half-interest in the Concho.  I can't do as I want
+to, sometimes.  My hands are tied, for if I made a bad move and lost
+out, I'd be sinking Will's money with mine."
+
+"I wouldn't make any bad moves if I were you," said the girl, glancing
+at the rancher's grave face.
+
+"Business is business, Nell.  We needn't begin that old argument.
+Only, understand this: I'll play square just as long as the other side
+plays square.  There's going to be trouble before long and you know
+why.  It won't begin on the west side of the Concho."
+
+"Good-bye, John," said the girl, reining her pony around.
+
+He raised his hat.  Then he wheeled Chinook and loped toward the ranch.
+
+Eleanor Loring, riding slowly, thought of what he had said.  "He won't
+give in an inch," she said aloud.  "Will would have given up the cattle
+business, or anything else, to please me."  Then she reasoned with
+herself, knowing that Will Corliss had given up all interest in the
+Concho, not to please her but to hurt her, for the night before his
+disappearance he had asked her to marry him and she had very sensibly
+refused, telling him frankly that she liked him, but that until he had
+settled down to something worth while she had no other answer for him.
+
+She was thinking of Will when she rode in to the rancho and turned her
+horse over to Miguel.  Suddenly she flushed, remembering John Corliss's
+eyes as he had held her in his arms.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+THE BROTHERS
+
+As Corliss rode up to the ranch gate he took the mail from the little
+wooden mail-box and stuffed it into his pocket with the exception of a
+letter which bore the postmark of Antelope and his address in a
+familiar handwriting.  He tore the envelope open hastily and glanced at
+the signature, "Will."
+
+Then he read the letter.  It told of his brother's unexpected arrival
+in Antelope, penniless and sick.  Corliss was not altogether surprised
+except in regard to the intuition of Eleanor, which puzzled him, coming
+as it had so immediately preceding the letter.
+
+He rode to the rancho and ordered one of the men to have the buckboard
+at the gate early next morning.  He wondered why his brother had not
+driven out to the ranch, being well known in Antelope and able to
+command credit.  Then he thought of Eleanor, and surmised that his
+brother possibly wished to avoid meeting her.  And as it happened, he
+was not mistaken.
+
+On the evening of the following day he drove up to the Palace Hotel and
+inquired for his brother.  The proprietor drew him to one side.  "It's
+all right for you to see him, John, but I been tryin' to keep him in
+his room.  He's--well, he ain't just feelin' right to be on the street.
+Sabe?"
+
+Corliss nodded, and turning, climbed the stairs.  He knocked at a door.
+There was no response.  He knocked again.
+
+"What you want?" came in a muffled voice.
+
+"It's John," said Corliss.  "Let me in."
+
+The door opened, and Corliss stepped into the room to confront a dismal
+scene.  On the washstand stood several empty whiskey bottles and murky
+glasses.  The bedding was half on the floor, and standing with hand
+braced against the wall was Will Corliss, ragged, unshaven, and visibly
+trembling.  His eyelids were red and swollen.  His face was white save
+for the spots that burned on his emaciated cheeks.
+
+"John!" he exclaimed, and extended his hand.
+
+Corliss shook hands with him and then motioned him to a chair.  "Well,
+Will, if you're sick, this isn't the way to get over it."
+
+"Brother's keeper, eh?  Glad to see me back, eh, Jack?"
+
+"Not in this shape.  What do you suppose Nell would think?"
+
+"I don't know and I don't care.  I'm sick.  That's all."
+
+"Where have you been--for the last three years?"
+
+"A whole lot you care.  Been?  I have been everywhere from heaven to
+hell--the whole route.  I'm in hell just now."
+
+"You look it.  Will, what can I do for you?  You want to quit the booze
+and straighten up.  You're killing yourself."
+
+"Maybe I don't know it!  Say, Jack, I want some dough.  I'm broke."
+
+"All right.  How much?"
+
+"A couple of hundred--for a starter."
+
+"What are you going to do with it?"
+
+"What do you suppose?  Not going to eat it."
+
+"No.  And you're not going to drink it, either.  I'll see that you have
+everything you need.  You're of age and can do as you like.  But you're
+not going to kill yourself with whiskey."
+
+Will Corliss stared at his brother; then laughed.
+
+"Have one with me, Jack.  You didn't used to be afraid of it."
+
+"I'm not now, but I'm not going to take a drink with you."
+
+"Sorry.  Well, here's looking."  And the brother poured himself a
+half-tumblerful of whiskey and gulped it down.  "Now, let's talk
+business."
+
+Corliss smiled despite his disgust.  "All right.  You talk and I'll
+listen."
+
+The brother slouched to the bed and sat down.  "How's the Concho been
+making it?" he asked.
+
+"We've been doing pretty fair.  I've been busy."
+
+"How's old man Loring?"
+
+"About the same."
+
+"Nell gone into mourning?"
+
+Corliss frowned and straightened his shoulders.
+
+"See here, Will, you said you'd talk business.  I'm waiting."
+
+"Touched you that time, eh?  Well, you can have Nell and be damned.  No
+Mexican blood for mine."
+
+"If you weren't down and out--" began Corliss; then checked himself.
+"Go ahead.  What do you want?"
+
+"I told you--money."
+
+"And I told you--no."
+
+The younger man started up.  "Think because I'm edged up that I don't
+know what's mine?  You've been piling it up for three years and I've
+been hitting the road.  Now I've come to get what belongs to me and I'm
+going to get it!"
+
+"All right, Will.  But don't forget that I was made guardian of your
+interest in the Concho until you got old enough to be responsible.  The
+will reads, until you come of age, providing you had settled down and
+showed that you could take care of yourself.  Father didn't leave his
+money to either of us to be drunk up, or wasted."
+
+"Prodigal son, eh, Jack?  Well, I'm it.  What's the use of getting sore
+at me?  All I want is a couple of hundred and I'll get out of this town
+mighty quick.  It's the deadest burg I've struck yet."
+
+John Corliss gazed at his brother, thinking of the bright-faced,
+blue-eyed lad that had ridden the mesas and the hills with him.  He was
+touched by the other's miserable condition, and even more grieved to
+realize that this condition was but the outcome of a rapid lowering of
+the other's moral and physical well-being.  He strode to him and sat
+beside him.  "Will, I'll give anything I have to help you.  You know
+that.  Anything!  You're so changed that it just makes me sick to
+realize it.  You needn't have got where you are.  I would have helped
+you out any time.  Why didn't you write to me?"
+
+"Write?  And have you tell Nell Loring how your good little brother was
+whining for help?  She would have enjoyed that--after what she handed
+me."
+
+"I don't know what she said to you," said Corliss, glancing at his
+brother.  "But I know this: she didn't say anything that wasn't so.  If
+that's the reason you left home, it was a mighty poor one.  You've
+always had your own way, Will."
+
+"Why shouldn't I?  Who's got anything to say about it?  You seem to
+think that I always need looking after--you and Nell Loring.  I can
+look after myself."
+
+"Doesn't look like it," said Corliss, gesturing toward the washstand.
+"Had anything to eat to-day?"
+
+"No, and I don't want anything."
+
+"Well, wash up and we'll go and get some clothes and something to eat.
+I'll wait."
+
+"You needn't.  Just give me a check--and I won't bother you after that."
+
+"No.  I said wash up!  Get busy now!"
+
+The younger man demurred, but finally did as he was told.  They went
+downstairs and out to the street.  In an hour they returned, Will
+Corliss looking somewhat like his former self in respectable raiment.
+"John," he said as they entered the room again, "you've always been a
+good old stand-by, ever since we were kids.  I guess I got in bad this
+time, but I'm going to quit.  I don't want to go back to the
+Concho--you know why.  If you'll give me some dough I'll take care of
+myself.  Just forget what I said about my share of the money."
+
+"Wait till morning," said Corliss.  "I'll take the room next, here, and
+if you get to feeling bad, call me."
+
+"All right, Jack.  I'll cut it out.  Maybe I will go back to the
+Concho; I don't know."
+
+"Wish you would, Will.  You'll get on your feet.  There's plenty to do
+and we're short-handed.  Think it over."
+
+"Does--Nell--ever say anything?" queried the brother.
+
+"She talks about you often.  Yesterday we were talking about you.  I
+told her what Sundown said about--"
+
+"Sundown?"
+
+"Forgot about him.  He drifted in a few months ago.  I met up with him
+at the water-hole ranch.  He was broke and looking for work.  Gave him
+a job cooking, and he made good.  He told me that he used to have a pal
+named Will Corliss--"
+
+"And Sundown's at the Concho!  I never told him where I lived."
+
+"He came into Antelope on a freight.  Got side-tracked and had to stay.
+He didn't know this used to be your country till I told him."
+
+"Well, that beats me, Jack!  Say, Sun was just an uncle to me when we
+were on the road.  We made it clear around, freights, cattle-boats, and
+afoot.  I didn't hit the booze then.  Funny thing: he used to hit it,
+and I kind of weaned him.  Now it's me. . ."
+
+"He's straight, all right," said Corliss.  "He 'tends right to
+business.  The boys like him."
+
+"Everybody liked him," asserted Will Corliss.  "But he is the queerest
+Hobo that ever hit the grit."
+
+"Some queer, at that.  It's after nine now, Will.  You get to bed.  I
+want to see Banks a minute.  I'll be back soon."
+
+When John Corliss had left the room, something intangible went with
+him.  Will felt his moral stamina crumbling.  He waited until he heard
+his brother leave the hotel.  Then he went downstairs and returned with
+a bottle of whiskey.  He drank, hid the bottle, and went to bed.  He
+knew that without the whiskey he would have been unable to sleep.
+
+
+The brothers had breakfast together next morning.  After breakfast
+Corliss went for the team and returned to the hotel, hoping to induce
+his brother to come home with him.  Will Corliss, however, pleaded
+weariness, and said that he would stay at the Palace until he felt
+better.
+
+"All right, Will.  I'll leave some cash with Banks.  He'll give you
+what you need as you want it."
+
+"Banks?  The sheriff?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Oh, all right.  Suppose you think I'm not to be trusted."
+
+"No.  But we'll leave it that way till I see you again.  Write in if
+you need me--and take care of yourself.  When you get ready to settle
+down, I'll turn over your share of the Concho to you.  So long, Will."
+
+Will Corliss watched his brother drive away.  When the team had
+disappeared up the road he walked down the street to the sheriff's
+office.  The sheriff greeted him cordially.
+
+"I came for that money, Jim."
+
+"Sure!  Here you are," and the sheriff handed him a five-dollar
+gold-piece.
+
+"Quit kidding and come across," said Corliss, ignoring the significance
+of the allowance.
+
+"Can't, Will.  John said to give you five any time you wanted it, but
+only five a day."
+
+"He did, eh?  John's getting mighty close in his old age, ain't he?"
+
+"Mebby.  I don't know."
+
+"How much did he leave for me?"
+
+"Five a day, as I said."
+
+"Oh, you go to hell!"
+
+The sheriff smiled pleasantly.  "Nope, Billy!  I'm goin' to stay right
+to home.  Have a cigar?"
+
+The young man refused the proffered cigar, picked up the gold-piece and
+strolled out.
+
+The sheriff leaned back in his chair.  "Well if Billy feels that way
+toward folks, reckon he won't get far with John, or anybody else.  Too
+dinged bad.  He used to be a good kid."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+FADEAWAY'S HAND
+
+Fadeaway, one of the Concho riders, urged his cayuse through the ford,
+reined short, and turned to watch Chance, who accompanied him.  The dog
+drew back from the edge of the stream and bunching himself, shot up and
+over the muddy water, nor did the jump break his stride as he leaped to
+overtake the rider, who had spurred out of his way.  Fadeaway cursed
+joyously and put his pony to a lope.  Stride for stride Chance ran
+beside him.  The cowboy, swaying easily, turned and looked down upon
+the dog.  Chance was enjoying himself.  "Wonder how fast the cuss _can_
+run?"  And Fadeaway swung his quirt.  The stride quickened to the
+rhythmic beat of the cow-horse at top speed.  The dog kept abreast
+without apparent effort.  A half-mile beyond the ford the pace
+slackened as the pony took the hill across which the trail led to the
+open mesas.  As they topped the rise Fadeaway again urged his cayuse to
+a run, for the puncher had enjoyed the hospitality of his companions of
+"The Blue," a distant cattle ranch, a day longer than had been set for
+his return to the Concho.  Just then a startled jack rabbit leaped up
+and bounced down the trail ahead of them.  Fadeaway jerked his horse to
+a stop.  "Now we'll see some real speed!" he said.  There was a flash
+of the dog's long body, which grew smaller and smaller in the distance;
+then a puff of dust spurted up.  Fadeaway saw the dog turn end over
+end, regain his feet and toss something in the air.
+
+"The fastest dog in Arizona," remarked the cowboy.  "And you, you
+glass-eyed son of a mistake, you're about as fast as a fence-post!"
+This to his patient and willing pony, that again swung into a run and
+ran steadily despite his fatigue, for he feared the instant slash of
+the quirt should he slacken pace.
+
+Round a bend in the trail, where an arm of the distant forest ran out
+into the mesa.  Fadeaway again set his horse up viciously.  Chance
+stopped and looked up at the rider.  The cowboy pointed through the
+thin rim of timber beyond which a herd of sheep was grazing.  "Take
+'em!" he whispered.  Chance hesitated, not because he was unfamiliar
+with sheep, but because he had been punished for chasing and worrying
+them.  "Go to it!  Take 'em, Chance!"
+
+The dog slunk through the timber and disappeared.  The cowboy rode
+slowly, peering through the timber.  Presently came the trample of
+frightened sheep--a shrill bleating, and then silence.  Fadeaway loped
+out into the open.  The sheep were running in all directions.  He
+whistled the dog to him.  Chance's muzzle dripped red.  The dog slunk
+round behind the horse, knowing that he had done wrong, despite the
+fact that he had been set upon the sheep.
+
+From the edge of the timber some one shouted.  The cowboy turned and
+saw a herder running toward him.  He reined around and sat waiting
+grimly.  When the herder was within speaking distance.  Fadeaway's hand
+dropped to his hip and the herder stopped.  He gesticulated and spoke
+rapidly in Spanish.  Fadeaway answered, but in a kind of Spanish not
+taught in schools or heard in indoor conversation.
+
+The herder pressed forward.  "Why, how! Fernando.  Now what's bitin'
+you?"
+
+"The sheep!  He kill the lamb!" cried the herder.
+
+Fadeaway laughed.  "Did, eh?  Well, I tried to call him off.  Reckon
+you heard me whistle him, didn't you?"
+
+The cowboy's assertion was so palpably an insult that old Fernando's
+anger overcame his caution.  He stepped forward threateningly.
+Fadeaway's gun was out and a splash of dust leaped up at Fernando's
+feet.  The herder turned and ran.  Fadeaway laughed and swung away at a
+lope.
+
+When he arrived at the Concho he unsaddled, turned his pony into the
+corral, and called to Chance.  He was at the water-trough washing the
+dog's muzzle when John Corliss appeared.  Fadeaway straightened up.  He
+knew what was coming and knew that he deserved it.  The effects of his
+conviviality at the Blue had worn off, leaving him in an ugly mood.
+
+Corliss looked him over from head to heel.  Then he glanced at the dog.
+Chance turned his head down and sideways, avoiding his master's eye.
+Fadeaway laughed.
+
+"You get your time!" said Corliss.
+
+"You're dam' right!" retorted Fadeaway.
+
+"And you're damned wrong!  Chance knows better than to tackle sheep
+unless he's put up to it.  You needn't explain.  Bud will give you your
+time."
+
+Then Corliss turned to Shoop who had just ridden in.
+
+"Chain that dog up and keep him chained up!  And give Fadeaway his
+time, right up to the minute!"
+
+Shoop dropped easily from the saddle, led his horse toward the corral,
+and whistled a sprightly ditty as he unsaddled him.
+
+Fadeaway rolled a cigarette and strolled over to the bunk-house where
+he retailed his visit and its climax to a group of interested punchers.
+
+"So he tied the can onto you, eh?  And for settin' Chance on the sheep?
+He ought to be much obliged to you, Fade.  They ain't room for sheep
+and cattle both on this here range.  We're gettin' backed plumb into
+the sunset."
+
+Fadeaway nodded to the puncher who had spoken.
+
+"And ole man Loring's just run in twenty thousand head from New Mex.,"
+continued the puncher.  "Wonder how Corliss likes that?"
+
+"Don' know--and dam' 'f I care.  If a guy can't have a little sport
+without gettin' fired for it, why, that guy don't work for the Concho.
+The Blue's good enough for me and I can get a job ridin' for the Blue
+any time I want to cinch up."
+
+"Well, Fade, I reckon you better cinch up pronto, then," said Shoop who
+had just entered.  "Here's your time.  Jack's some sore, believe me!"
+
+"Sore, eh?  Well, before he gets through with me he'll be sorer.  You
+can tell him for me."
+
+"'Course I _can_--but I ain't goin' to.  And I wouldn't if I was you.
+No use showin' your hand so early in the game."  And Shoop laughed.
+
+"Well, she's full--six aces," said Fadeaway, touching his holster
+significantly.
+
+"And Jack throws the fastest gun on the Concho," said Shoop, his genial
+smile gone; his face flushed.  "I been your friend, if I do say it,
+Fade.  But don't you go away with any little ole idea that I ain't
+workin' for Jack Corliss."
+
+"What's that to me?  I'm fired, ain't I?"
+
+"Correct.  Only I was thinkin' your cayuse is all in.  You couldn't get
+out of sight on him tonight.  But you can take one of my string and
+send it back when you get ready."
+
+"Oh, I ain't sweatin' to hit the trail," said Fadeaway, for the benefit
+of his audience.
+
+"All right, Fade.  But the boss is.  It's up to you."
+
+
+After he had eaten, Fadeaway rolled his few belongings in his slicker
+and tied it to the saddle.  He was not afraid of Corliss, but like men
+of his stamp he wanted Corliss to know that he was not alone unafraid,
+but willing to be aggressive.  He mounted and rode up to the
+ranch-house.  Corliss, who had seen him approach through the window,
+sat at his desk, waiting for the cow-boy to dismount and come in.  But
+Fadeaway sat his horse, determined to make the rancher come outside.
+
+Corliss understood, and pushing back his chair, strode to the doorway.
+"Want to see me?" he asked.
+
+Fadeaway noticed that Corliss was unarmed, and he twisted the
+circumstance to suit a false interpretation of the fact.  "Playin'
+safe!" he sneered.
+
+Corliss flushed and the veins swelled on his neck, but he kept silent.
+He looked the cowboy in the eye and was met by a gaze as steady as his
+own; an aggressive and insolent gaze that had for its backing sheer
+physical courage and nothing more.  It became a battle of mental
+endurance and Corliss eventually won.
+
+After the lapse of several seconds, the cowboy spoke to his horse.
+"Come on, Doc!  The son-of-a----- is loco."
+
+Corliss heard, but held his peace.  He stood watching the cowboy until
+the latter was out on the road.  He noticed that he took the northern
+branch, toward Antelope.  Then the rancher entered the house, picked up
+his hat, buckled on his gun, and hastened to the corral.  He saddled
+Chinook and took the trail to the Loring rancho.
+
+He rode slowly, trying to arrive at the best method of presenting his
+side of the sheep-killing to Loring.  He hoped that Eleanor Loring
+would not be present during the interview with her father.  He was
+disappointed, for she came from the wide veranda as he rode up and
+greeted him.
+
+"Won't you come in?" she asked.
+
+"I guess not.  I'd like to see your father."
+
+She knew that her father had forbidden Corliss the house, and, indeed,
+the premises.  She wondered what urgency brought him to the rancho.
+"I'll call him, then."
+
+Corliss answered the grave questioning in her eyes briefly.  "The
+sheep," he said.
+
+"Oh!"  She turned and stepped to the veranda.  "Dad, John is here."
+
+David Loring came to the doorway and stood blinking at Corliss.  He did
+not speak.
+
+"Mr. Loring, one of my men set Chance on a band of your sheep.  My
+foreman tells me that Chance killed a lamb.  I want to pay for it."
+
+Loring had expected something of the kind.  "Mighty proud of it, I
+reckon?"
+
+"No, I'm not proud of it.  I apologize--for the Concho."
+
+"You say it easy."
+
+"No, it isn't easy to say--to you.  I'll pay the damage.  How much?"
+
+"Your dog, eh?  Well, if you'll shoot the dam' dog the lamb won't cost
+you a cent."
+
+"No, I won't shoot the dog.  He was put up to it.  I fired the man that
+set him on to the sheep."
+
+"That's your business.  But that don't square you with me."
+
+"I'll settle, if you'll fix the price," said Corliss.
+
+"You will, eh?  Then, mebby you'd think you was square with ole man
+Loring and come foolin' around here like that tramp brother of yours.
+Fine doin's in Antelope, from what I hear."
+
+"Dad!" exclaimed the girl, stepping to her father.  "Dad!"
+
+"You go in the house, Nellie!  We'll settle this."
+
+Corliss dismounted and strode up to Loring.  "If you weren't an old man
+I'd give you the licking of your life!  I've offered to settle with you
+and I've apologized.  You don't belong in a white man's country."
+
+"I got a pup that barks jest like that--and he's afraid of his own
+bark," said Loring.
+
+"Have it your way.  I'm through."  And Corliss stepped to his horse.
+
+"Well, I ain't!" cried Loring.  "I'm jest startin' in!  You better
+crawl your cayuse and eat the wind for home, Mr. Concho Jack!  And
+lemme tell you this: they's twenty thousand head of my sheep goin' to
+cross the Concho, and the first puncher that runs any of my sheep is
+goin' to finish in smoke!"
+
+"All right, Loring.  Glad you put me on to your scheme.  I don't want
+trouble with you, but if you're set on having trouble, you can find it."
+
+The old man straightened and shook his fist at the rancher.  "Fust time
+you ever talked like a man in your life.  Nex' thing is to see if you
+got sand enough to back it up.  There's the gate."
+
+Corliss mounted and wheeled his horse.  The girl, who stood beside her
+father, started forward as though to speak to the rancher.  Loring
+seized her arm.  Her face flamed and she turned on her father.  "Dad!
+Let me go!"
+
+He shrunk beneath her steady gaze.  He released her arm and she stepped
+up to Corliss.  "I'm sorry, John," she said, and offered her hand.
+
+"You heard it all, Nell.  I'd do anything to save you all this, if I
+could."
+
+"Anything?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Well, try and get Will--to--stop drinking.  He--I heard all about it.
+I can't do anything to help.  You ought to look after him.  He's your
+brother.  He's telling folks in Antelope that you refused to help him.
+Is that so?"
+
+"I refused to give him two hundred dollars to blow in if that's what
+you mean."
+
+"Did you quarrel with Will?"
+
+"No.  I asked him to come home.  I knew he wouldn't."
+
+"Yes.  And I think I know how you went at it.  I wish I could talk to
+him."
+
+"I wish you would.  You can do more with him than anybody."
+
+Loring strode toward Corliss.  The girl turned to her father.  He
+raised his arm and pointed toward the road.  "You git!" he said.  She
+reached up and patted his grizzled cheek.  Then she clung to him,
+sobbing.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+AT "THE LAST CHANCE"
+
+The afternoon following the day of his discharge from the Concho,
+Fadeaway rode into Antelope, tied his pony to the hitching-rail in
+front of "The Last Chance," and entered the saloon.  Several men loafed
+at the bar.  The cowboy, known as "a good spender when flush," was made
+welcome.  He said nothing about being out of employment, craftily
+anticipating the possibility of having to ask for credit later, as he
+had but a half-month's pay with him.  He was discussing the probability
+of early rains with a companion when Will Corliss entered the place.
+
+Fadeaway greeted him with loud, counterfeit heartiness, and they drank
+together.  Their talk centered on the Concho.  Gradually they drew away
+from the group at the bar.  Finally Corliss mentioned his brother.
+Fadeaway at once became taciturn.
+
+Corliss noticed this and questioned the puncher.  "Had a row with
+Jack?" he asked.
+
+"Between you and me, I did.  He fired me, couple of days ago."
+
+"Full?"
+
+"Nope.  Chance killed one of Loring's sheep.  John hung it onto me,
+seein' Chance was with me.  Guess John's gettin' religion."
+
+Corliss laughed, and his lips twisted to a sneer.  "Guess he is.  I
+tried to touch him for two hundred of my own money and he turned me
+down.  Maybe I like it."
+
+"Turned you down, eh!  That's what I call nerve!  And you been away
+three year and more.  Reckon, by the way the Concho is makin' good, you
+got more'n two hundred comin'.  She's half yours, ain't she?"
+
+"Yes.  And I'm going to get my share.  He told me I could have a
+job--that he was short-handed.  What do you think of that!  And I own
+half the Concho!  I guess I'd like to ride range with a lot of--well,
+you understand, Fade.  I never liked the Concho and I never will.
+Let's have another.  No.  This is on me."
+
+Again they drank and Corliss became more talkative.  He posed as one
+wronged by society in general and his brother especially.
+
+As his talk grew louder, Fadeaway cautioned him.  "Easy, Billy.  No use
+advertisin'.  Come on over here."  And Fadeaway gestured toward one of
+the tables in the rear of the room.
+
+Corliss was about to retort to the other's apparently good-natured
+interference with his right to free speech, when he caught Fadeaway's
+glance.  "Well?" he exclaimed.
+
+The cowboy evidently had something to say in confidence.  Corliss
+followed him to one of the tables.
+
+"It's this way," began the cowboy.  "You're sore at Jack.  Now Jack's
+got friends here and it won't help you any to let 'em know you're sore
+at him.  I ain't feelin' like kissin' him myself--right now.  But I
+ain't advertisin' it.  What you want to do is--"
+
+"What's that got to do with me?" interrupted Corliss.
+
+Fadeaway laughed.  "Nothin'--if you like.  Only there's been doin's
+since you lit out."  And he paused to let the inference sink in.
+
+"You mean--?"
+
+"Look here, Billy.  I been your friend ever since you was a kid.  And
+seein' you're kind of out of luck makes me sore--when I think what's
+yours by rights.  Mebby I'm ridin' over the line some to say it, but
+from what I seen since you been gone, Jack ain't goin' to cry any if
+you never come back.  Old man Loring ain't goin' to live more'n a
+thousand years.  Mebby Jack don't jest love him--but Jack ain't been
+losin' any time since you been gone."
+
+Corliss flushed.  "I suppose I don't know that!  But he hasn't seen the
+last of me yet."
+
+"If I had what's comin' to you, you bet I wouldn't work on no
+cattle-ranch, either.  I'd sure hire a law-shark and find out where I
+got off."
+
+Fadeaway's suggestion had its intended effect.  The younger man knew
+that an appeal to the law would be futile so long as he chose to ignore
+that clause in the will which covered the contingency he was
+illustrating by his conduct.  Fadeaway again cautioned him as he became
+loud in his invective against his brother.  The cowboy, while posing as
+friend and adviser, was in reality working out a subtle plan of his
+own, a plan of which Corliss had not the slightest inkling.
+
+"And the Concho's makin' good," said Fadeaway, helping himself to a
+drink.  He shoved the bottle toward Corliss.  "Take a little
+'Forget-it,' Billy.  That's her!  Here's to what's yours!"  They drank
+together.  The cowboy rolled a cigarette, tilted back his chair, and
+puffed thoughtfully.  "Yes, she's makin' good.  Why, Bud is gettin' a
+hundred and twenty-five, now.  Old Hi Wingle's drawin' down
+eighty--Jack's payin' the best wages in this country.  Must of cleaned
+up four or five thousand last year.  And here you're settin', broke."
+
+"Well, you needn't rub it in," said Corliss, frowning.
+
+Fadeaway grinned.  "I ain't, Billy.  I'm out of a job myself: and
+nothin' comin'--like you."
+
+Corliss felt that there was something in his companion's easy drift
+that had not as yet come to the surface.  Fadeaway's hard-lined face
+was unreadable.  The cowboy saw a question in the other's eyes and
+cleverly ignored it.  Since meeting the brother he had arrived at a
+plan to revenge himself on John Corliss and he intended that the
+brother should take the initiative.
+
+He got up and proffered his hand.  "So long, Billy.  If you ever need a
+friend, you know where to find him."
+
+"Hold on, Fade.  What's your rush?"
+
+"Got to see a fella.  Mebby I'll drop in later."
+
+Corliss rose.
+
+Fadeaway leaned across the table.  "I'm broke, and you're broke.  The
+Concho pays off Monday, next week.  The boys got three months
+comin'--close to eighteen hundred--and gold."
+
+"Gold?  Thought John paid by check?"
+
+"He's tryin' to keep the boys from cashin' in, here.  Things are goin'
+to be lively between Loring and the Concho before long.  Jack needs all
+the hands he's got."
+
+"But I don't see what that's got to do with it, Fade."
+
+"Nothing 'ceptin' I'm game to stand by a pal--any time."
+
+"You mean--?"
+
+"Jest a josh, Billy.  I was only thinkin' what _could_ be pulled off by
+a couple of wise ones.  So-long!"
+
+And the cowboy departed wondering just how far his covert suggestion
+had carried with Will Corliss.  As for Will Corliss, Fadeaway cared
+nothing whatever.  Nor did he intend to risk getting caught with a
+share of the money in his possession, provided his plan was carried to
+a conclusion.  He anticipated that John Corliss would be away from the
+ranch frequently, owing to the threatened encroachment of Loring's
+sheep on the west side of the Concho River.  Tony, the Mexican, would
+be left in charge of the ranch.  Will Corliss knew the combination of
+the safe--of that Fadeaway was pretty certain.  Should they get the
+money, people in the valley would most naturally suspect the brother.
+And Fadeaway reasoned that John Corliss would take no steps to recover
+the money should suspicion point to his brother having stolen it.
+Meanwhile he would wait.
+
+
+Shortly after Fadeaway had gone out, Will Corliss got up and sauntered
+to the street.  He gazed up and down the straggling length of Antelope
+and cursed.  Then he walked across to the sheriff's office.
+
+The sheriff motioned him to a chair, which he declined.  "Better sit
+down, Billy.  I want to talk to you."
+
+"Haven't got time," said Corliss.  "You know what I came for."
+
+"That's just what I want to talk about.  See here, Billy, you've been
+hitting it up pretty steady this week.  Here's the prospect.  John told
+me to hand you five a day for a week.  You got clothes, grub, and a
+place to sleep and all paid for.  You could go out to the ranch if you
+wanted to.  The week is up and you're goin' it just the same.  If you
+want any more money you'll have to see John.  I give you all he left
+with me."
+
+"By God, that's the limit!" exclaimed Corliss.
+
+"I guess it is, Billy.  Have a cigar?"
+
+Corliss flung out of the office and tramped across to the saloon.  He
+called for whiskey and, seating himself at one of the tables, drank
+steadily.  Fadeaway wasn't such a fool, after all.  But robbery!  Was
+it robbery?  Eighteen hundred dollars would mean San Francisco . . .
+Corliss closed his eyes.  Out of the red mist of remembrance a girl's
+face appeared.  The heavy-lidded eyes and vivid lips smiled.  Then
+other faces, and the sound of music and laughter.  He nodded to them
+and raised his glass. . . .  As the raw whiskey touched his lips the
+red mist swirled away.  The dingy interior of the saloon, the booted
+and belted riders, the grimy floor littered with cigarette-ends, the
+hanging oil-lamp with its blackened chimney, flashed up and spread
+before him like the speeding film of a picture, stationary upon the
+screen of his vision, yet trembling toward a change of scene.  A blur
+appeared in the doorway.  In the nightmare of his intoxication he
+welcomed the change.  Why didn't some one say something or do
+something?  And the figure that had appeared, why should it pause and
+speak to one of the men at the bar, and not come at once to him.  They
+were laughing.  He grew silently furious.  Why should they laugh and
+talk and keep him waiting?  He knew who had come in.  Of course he
+knew!  Did Fadeaway think to hide himself behind the man at the bar?
+Then Fadeaway should not wear chaps with silver conchas that glittered
+and gleamed as he shifted his leg and turned his back.  "Said he was my
+friend," mumbled Corliss.  "My friend!  Huh!"  Was it a friend that
+would leave him sitting there, alone?
+
+He rose and lurched to the bar.  Some one steadied him as he swayed.
+He stiffened and struck the man in the face.  He felt himself jerked
+backward and the shock cleared his vision.  Opposite him two men held
+Fadeaway, whose mouth was bleeding.  The puncher was struggling to get
+at his gun.
+
+Corliss laughed.  "Got you that time, you thief!"
+
+"He's crazy drunk," said one of the men.  "Don't get het up, Fade.  He
+ain't packin' a gun."
+
+Fadeaway cursed and wiped the blood from his mouth.  He was playing his
+part well.  Accident had helped him.  To all intents and purposes they
+were open enemies.
+
+Still, he was afraid Corliss would talk, so he laughed and extended his
+hand.  "Shake, Billy.  I guess you didn't know what you were doin'.  I
+was tryin' to keep you from fallin'."
+
+Corliss stared at the other with unwinking eyes.
+
+Fadeaway laughed and turned toward the bar.  "Ought to hand him one,
+but he's all in now, I reckon.  That's what a fella gets for mixin' up
+with kids.  Set 'em up, Joe."
+
+Left to himself Corliss stared about stupidly.  Then he started for the
+doorway.
+
+As he passed Fadeaway, the latter turned and seized his arm.  "Come on
+up and forget it, Billy.  You and me's friends, ain't we?"
+
+The cowboy, by sheer force of his personality, dominated the now
+repentant Corliss, whose stubbornness had given way to tearful
+retraction and reiterated apology.  Of course they were friends!
+
+They drank and Fadeaway noticed the other's increasing pallor.  "Jest
+about one more and he'll take a sleep," soliloquized the cowboy.  "In
+the mornin' 's when I ketch him, raw, sore, and ready for anything."
+
+One of the cowboys helped Corliss to his room at the Palace.  Later
+Fadeaway entered the hotel, asked for a room, and clumped upstairs.  He
+rose early and knocked at Corliss's door, then entered without waiting
+for a response.
+
+He wakened Corliss, who sat up and stared at him stupidly.  "Mornin',
+Billy.  How's the head?"
+
+"I don't know yet.  Got any cash, Fade?  I'm broke."
+
+"Sure.  What you want?"
+
+Corliss made a gesture, at which the other laughed.  "All right,
+pardner.  I'll fan it for the medicine."
+
+When he returned to the room, Corliss was up and dressed.  Contrary to
+Fadeaway's expectations, the other was apparently himself, although a
+little too bright and active to be normal.
+
+"Guess I got noisy last night," said Corliss, glancing at Fadeaway's
+swollen lip.
+
+"Forget it!  Have some of this.  Then I got to fan it."
+
+"Where are you going?"
+
+"Me?  Over to the Blue.  Got a job waitin' for me."
+
+Corliss's fingers worked nervously.  "When did you say the Concho paid
+off?" he queried, avoiding the other's eye.
+
+Fadeaway's face expressed surprise.  "The Concho?  Why, next Monday.
+Why?"
+
+"Oh--nothing.  I was just wondering . . ."
+
+"Want to send any word to Jack?" asked the cowboy.
+
+"No, I don't.  Thanks, just the same, Fade."
+
+"Sure!  Well, I guess I'll be goin'."
+
+"Wait a minute.  Don't be in a rush.  I was thinking . . ."
+
+Fadeaway strode to the window and stood looking out on the street.  His
+apparent indifference was effective.
+
+"Say, Fade, do you think we could--could get away with it?"
+
+"With what?" exclaimed the cowboy, turning.
+
+"Oh, you know!  What you said yesterday."
+
+"Guess I said a whole lot yesterday that I forgot this mornin'.  I get
+to joshin' when I'm drinkin' bug-juice.  What you gettin' at?"
+
+"The money--at the Concho."
+
+"Oh, that!  Why, Billy, I was jest stringin' you!  Supposin' somebody
+was to make a try for it; there's Chance like to be prowlin' around and
+the safe ain't standin' open nights.  Besides, Jack sleeps next to the
+office.  That was a josh."
+
+"Well, I could handle Chance," said Corliss.  "And I know the
+combination to the safe, if it hasn't been changed.  You said Jack was
+likely to be away nights, now."
+
+Fadeaway shook his head.  "You're dreamin', Bill.  'Sides, I wouldn't
+touch a job like that for less'n five hundred."
+
+"Would you--for five hundred?"
+
+"I dunno.  Depends on who I was ridin' with."
+
+"Well, I'll divvy up--give you five hundred if you'll come in on it."
+
+Again Fadeaway shook his head.  "It's too risky, Billy.  'Course you
+mean all right--but I reckon you ain't got nerve enough to put her
+through."
+
+"I haven't!" flashed Corliss.  "Try me!"
+
+"And make a get-away," continued the cowboy.  "I wouldn't want to see
+you pinched."
+
+"I'll take a chance, if you will," said Corliss, now assuming, as
+Fadeaway had intended, the role of leader in the proposed robbery.
+
+"How you expect to get clear--when they find it out?"
+
+"I could get old man Soper to hide me out till I could get to Sagetown.
+He'll do anything for money.  I could be on the Limited before the news
+would get to Antelope."
+
+"And if you got pinched, first thing you'd sing out 'Fadeaway,' and
+then me for over the road, eh?"
+
+"Honest, Fade.  I'll swear that I won't give you away, even if I get
+caught.  Here's my hand on it."
+
+"Give me nine hundred and I'll go you," said Fadeaway, shaking hands
+with his companion.
+
+Corliss hesitated.  Was the risk worth but half the money involved?
+"Five's a whole lot, Fade."
+
+"Well, seein' you're goin' to do the gettin' at it, why, mebby I'd risk
+it for five hundred.  I dunno."
+
+"You said you'd stand by a pal, Fade.  Now's your chance."
+
+"All right.  See here, Bill.  You cut out the booze all you can to-day.
+Foot it out to the Beaver Dam to-night and I'll have a hoss for you.
+We can ride up the old canon trail.  Nobody takes her nowadays, so
+we'll be under cover till we hit the ford.  We can camp there back in
+the brush and tackle her next evenin'.  So-long."
+
+Fadeaway was downstairs and out on the street before Corliss realized
+that he had committed himself to a desperate and dangerous undertaking.
+He recalled the expression in Fadeaway's eyes when they had shaken
+hands.  Unquestionably the cowboy meant business.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+SUNDOWN'S FRIEND
+
+Bud Shoop was illustrating, with quaint and humorous gestures and
+adjectives, one of his early experiences as Ranger on the Apache
+Reservation.  The men, grouped around the night-fire, smoked and helped
+the tale along with reminiscent suggestions and ejaculations of
+interest and curiosity.  In the midst of a vivid account of the
+juxtaposition of a telephone battery and a curious yet unsuspicious
+Apache, Shoop paused in the recital and gazed out across the mesa.
+"It's the boss," he said, getting to his feet.  "Wonder what's up?"
+
+Corliss rode into camp, swung from the saddle, and called to Shoop.
+The men gazed at each other, nodded, and the words "Loring" and
+"sheep," punctuated their mutterings.
+
+Shoop and Corliss talked together.  Then the foreman called to Hi
+Wingle, asking him how the "chuck" was holding out.
+
+"Runnin' short on flour and beans, Bud.  Figured on makin' the Concho
+to-morrow."
+
+Corliss and his foreman came to the fire.  "Boss says we're goin' to
+bush here the rest of this week," and Corliss nodded.
+
+"I'm expecting company on the west side," explained Corliss,
+
+The men gazed at each other knowingly.
+
+"All right," said Wingle.  "Four sacks of flour and a sack of
+frijoles'll see us through.  Got enough other stuff."
+
+"Send some one in for it," ordered Corliss.  "I'm going to stay with
+the outfit, from now on."
+
+The men cheered.  That was the kind of a boss to work for!  No settin'
+back and lettin' the men do the fightin'!  Some style to Jack Corliss!
+All of which was subtly expressed in their applause, although unspoken.
+
+"To see that you boys don't get into mischief," continued Corliss,
+smiling.
+
+"Which means keepin' other folks out of mischief, eh, patron?" said a
+cow-puncher.
+
+At the word "patron" the men laughed.  "They're talkin' of turnin' this
+outfit into a sheep-camp," remarked another.  "Ba-a-ah!" And again they
+laughed.
+
+Shoop motioned to Sundown who rose from beside the fire.  "You can
+saddle up, Sun."
+
+Sundown caught up his horse and stood waiting while one of the men
+saddled two pack-animals.  "Tony has the keys.  He'll pack the stuff
+for you," said Corliss.  "Keep jogging and you ought to be back here by
+sunup."
+
+The assistant cook mounted and took the lead-rope of the pack-horses.
+He was not altogether pleased with the prospect of an all-night ride,
+but he knew that he had been chosen as the one whose services could
+most easily be dispensed with at the camp.  Silently he rode away, the
+empty kyacks clattering as the pack-horses trotted unwillingly behind
+him.  Too busy with the unaccustomed lead-rope to roll cigarettes, he
+whistled, and, in turn, recited verse to keep up his spirits.
+
+About midnight he discerned the outline of the low ranch-buildings and
+urged his horse to a faster gait.  As he passed a clump of cottonwoods,
+his horse snorted and shied.  Sundown reined him in and leaned peering
+ahead.  The pack-animals tugged back on the rope.  Finally he coaxed
+them past the cottonwoods and up to the gate.  It was open, an unusual
+circumstance which did not escape his notice.  He drifted through the
+shadows toward the corral, where he tied the horses.  Then he stepped
+to the bunk-house, found a lantern and lighted it.  He hallooed.  There
+was no response.  He stalked across to the ranch-house.  He found the
+door unlocked.  "Hi!  Tony!" he called.  No one answered.  He pushed
+the door open and entered.  Holding the lantern above his head he
+peered around the room.
+
+In the dim light of the lantern vague outlines took shape.  He noticed
+that the small safe in the corner was open.  He became alarmed and
+again called.  He heard a slight movement behind him and turned to see
+the door close.  From behind stepped a figure, a slender figure that
+seemed unreal, yet familiar.  With a cry of surprise he jumped back and
+stood facing his old friend and companion of the road, Will Corliss.
+
+"Billy!" he ejaculated, backing away and staring.
+
+"Yes, it's Billy."  And Corliss extended his hand.
+
+"But--what, where--?"  Sundown hesitated and glanced at the safe.  His
+eyes widened and he lowered the lantern.  "Billy!" he said, ignoring
+the other's proffered hand, "what you doin' here?"
+
+Corliss assumed a nonchalant air.  "Shake, pal!  It's a long time since
+we been in a wreck, eh?"
+
+Sundown was silent, studying the other's hardened features.  "Billy!"
+he reiterated, "what you doin' here?"
+
+Corliss laughed nervously.  "What are you doing here?" he
+retorted,--"in the office of the Concho, at midnight?"
+
+"I was comin' to get flour and beans for the camp--" he began.
+
+Corliss interrupted him.  "Sounds good, that!  But they don't keep the
+grub here.  Guess you made a mistake."
+
+Sundown's face was expressionless.  "Guess you made the mistake, Billy.
+I thought you was--dead."
+
+"Not on your tin-type, Sun."
+
+"I never thought you was crooked, Billy."
+
+"Crooked!" flashed Corliss.  "Say, you--you forget it.  I'm here to get
+what's coming to me.  Jack turned me down, so I'm going to take what's
+mine."
+
+"Mebby it's yours, but you ain't gettin' it right," said Sundown.
+"I--I--never thought you was--"
+
+"Oh, cut that out!  You didn't used to be so dam' particular."
+
+"I never swiped a cent in me life, Billy."
+
+"Well, forget it.  I'm in a hurry.  You go ahead and get the chuck.
+Here are the keys to the store-room--and beat it.  Just forget that you
+saw me; that's all."
+
+Sundown shook his head.  "I ain't forgettin' that easy, Billy.  'Sides,
+I'm workin' for the Concho, now.  They're treatin' me fine--and I
+reckon I got to be square."
+
+"You mean you're going to squeal--going back on your old pal, eh?"
+
+Sundown's face expressed conflicting emotions.  He straightened his
+lean shoulders.  "I tell you, Billy; if you beat it now, they won't be
+nothin' to squeal about."
+
+"I'm going to."  And Corliss stepped toward the safe.  "Just hold that
+light this way a minute."
+
+Sundown complied, and Corliss thought that the other had overcome his
+scruples.  Corliss hastily drew a small canvas sack from the safe and
+stuffed it into his pocket.  Sundown backed toward the door.
+
+Corliss got to his feet.  "Well, so-long, Sun.  Guess I'll light out."
+
+"Not with that," said Sundown.  "I ain't no preacher, but I ain't goin'
+to see you go straight to hell and me do nothin'.  Mebby some of that
+dough is yourn.  I dunno.  But somebody's goin' to get pinched for
+takin' it.  Bein' a Bo, it'll be me."
+
+"So that's what's worrying you, eh?  Scared you'll get sent over for
+this.  Well, you won't.  You haven't got anything on you."
+
+"'T ain't that, Billy.  It's you."
+
+Corliss laughed.  "You're getting religion, too.  Well, I never thought
+you'd go back on me."
+
+"I ain't.  I was always your friend, Billy."
+
+Corliss hesitated.  The door behind Sundown moved ever so little.
+Corliss's eyes held Sundown with unwinking gaze.  Slowly the door swung
+open.  Sundown felt rather than heard a presence behind him.  Before he
+could turn, something crashed down on his head.  The face of his old
+friend, intense, hard, desperate, was the last thing imaged upon his
+mind as the room swung round and he dropped limply to the floor.
+
+"Just in time," said Fadeaway, bending over the prostrate figure.  "Get
+a move, Bill.  I followed him from the cottonwoods and heard his talk.
+I was waitin' to get him when he come out, but I seen what he was up to
+and I fixed him."
+
+Corliss backed against the wall, trembling and white.  "Is he--did
+you--?"
+
+Fadeaway grinned.  "No, just chloroformed him.  Get a move, Bill.  No
+tellin' who'll come moseyin' along.  Got the stuff?"
+
+Corliss nodded.
+
+Fadeaway blew out the light.  "Come on, Bill.  She worked slick."
+
+"But--he knows me," said Corliss.  "He'll squeal."
+
+"And I reckon Jack'll believe him.  Why, it's easy, Bill.  They find
+the Bo on the job and the money gone.  Who did it?  Ask me."
+
+At the cottonwoods they mounted.  "Now, you fan it for Soper's," said
+Fadeaway.  "I'll keep on for the Blue.  To-morrow evenin' I'll ride
+over and get my divvy."
+
+Corliss hesitated.
+
+"You better travel," said Fadeaway, reining his horse around.
+"So-long."
+
+Chance, a prisoner in the stable, whined and gnawed at the rope with
+which Corliss had tied him.  The rope was hard-twisted and tough.
+Finally the last strand gave way.  The dog leaped through the doorway
+and ran sniffing around the enclosure.  He found Sundown's trail and
+followed it to the ranch-house.  At the threshold the dog stopped.  His
+neck bristled and he crooked one foreleg.  Slowly he stalked to the
+prone figure on the floor.  He sniffed at Sundown's hands and pawed at
+him.  Slowly Sundown's eyes opened.  He tried to rise and sank back
+groaning.  Chance frisked around him playfully coaxing.  Finally
+Sundown managed to sit up.  With pain-heavy eyes he gazed around the
+room.  Slowly he got to his feet and staggered to the doorway.  He
+leaned against the lintel and breathed deeply of the fresh morning air.
+The clear cold tang of the storm that had passed, lingered, giving a
+keen edge to the morning.  "We're sure in wrong," he muttered, gazing
+at Chance, who stood watching him with head cocked and eyes eager for
+something to happen--preferably action.  Sundown studied the dog dully.
+"Say, Chance," he said finally, "do you think you could take a little
+word to the camp?  I heard of dogs doin' such things.  Mebby you could.
+Somebody's got to do 'somethin' and I can't."  Painfully he stooped and
+pointed toward the south.  "Go tell the boss!" he commanded.  Chance
+whined.  "No, that way.  The camp!"
+
+Chance nosed across the yard toward the gate.  Then he stopped and
+looked back.  Sundown encouraged him by waving his arm toward the
+south.  "Go ahead, Chance.  The boss wants you."
+
+Chance trotted toward the cottonwood, nosed among them, and finally
+took Sundown's trail to the knoll.
+
+Sundown crept to the bunk-house, wondering what had become of the
+Mexican, Tony.  He determined to search for him, but became dizzy, and,
+crawling to a bunk, lay back groaning as the dull pain in his head
+leaped intermittently to blinding stabs of agony.  It seemed ages
+before he heard the quick staccato of hoofs on the road.  He raised
+himself on his elbow as Shoop and Corliss rode up on their
+mud-spattered and steaming ponies.  Sundown called as they dismounted
+at the corral.
+
+Corliss and Shoop stamped in, breathing hard.  "What's up?" questioned
+Corliss.
+
+"They--they got the money," muttered Sundown, pointing toward the
+office.
+
+"Who?  See what's up, Bud."
+
+Shoop swung out and across the enclosure.
+
+Corliss stooped over Sundown.  "What's wrong, Sun?  Why, Great God,
+you're hurt!"
+
+The rancher brought water and bathed Sundown's head.  "Who did it?" he
+questioned.
+
+"I dunno, boss.  I come and caught 'em at it.  Two of 'em, I guess.  I
+was tryin' to stop one fella from takin' it when the other slips me one
+on the head, and I takes a sleep.  I was lookin' for Tony in the
+office."
+
+"Where's Tony?"
+
+"I dunno.  I was goin' to see--but--my head . . ."
+
+"That's all right.  You take it easy as you can.  I'll find out."
+
+And Corliss left the room.  With Chance he explored the outbuildings
+and finally discovered the Mexican bound and gagged in the stable.  He
+released him, but could make nothing of his answers save that some one
+had come at night, tied his hands and feet, and carried him from the
+ranch-house.
+
+Corliss returned to Sundown.  In the bunkhouse he encountered Shoop.
+
+"They robbed the safe," said Shoop, and he spoke with a strange
+quietness.  "Better come and take a look, Jack."
+
+"Didn't blow her," said Shoop, pointing toward the corner as they
+entered the office.
+
+Corliss knelt and examined the safe.  "The man that did it knew the
+combination," he said.  "There isn't a mark on the door."
+
+He rose, and Shoop met his eye.  Corliss shook his head.  "I don't
+know," he said, as if in answer to a silent questioning.  Then he told
+Shoop to look for tracks.
+
+"The rain's fixed the tracks," said Shoop, turning in the doorway.
+"But it ain't drowned out my guess on this proposition."
+
+"Well, keep guessing, Bud, till I talk to Sundown."  And Corliss walked
+slowly to the bunkhouse.  He sat on the edge of the bunk and laid his
+hand on Sundown's sleeve.  "Look here, Sun, if you know anything about
+this, just tell me.  The money's gone and you didn't get that cut on
+the head trying to take it.  I guess you're straight, all right, but I
+think you know something."
+
+Sundown blinked and set his jaw.
+
+Corliss observed and wisely forbore to threaten or command.  "Did you
+recognize either of the men?" he asked, presently.
+
+"No!" lied Sundown.  "Wasn't I hit in the back of me head?"
+
+Corliss smiled grimly.  "What were you doing when you got hit?"
+
+"Tryin' to stop the other guy--"
+
+"What did he look like?"
+
+"I dunno.  Me lantern was on the floor.  He was a hefty guy, bigger 'n
+you.  Mebby six feet and pow'ful built.  Had whiskers so's I couldn't
+pipe his face.  Big puncher hat down over his eyes and a handkerchief
+tied like a mask.  I was scared of him, you bet!"
+
+Corliss slowly drew a sack of tobacco and papers from his pocket.  He
+rolled a cigarette and puffed reflectively.  Then he laughed.  "I'm out
+about eighteen hundred.  That's the first thing.  Next, you're used up
+pretty bad and we're short-handed.  Then, we're losing time trying to
+track the thieves.  But I'm not riled up a little bit.  Don't think I'm
+mad at you.  I'm mighty glad you didn't get put out in this deal.
+That's where I stand.  I want to find out who took the money.  I don't
+say that I'll lift a rein to follow them.  Depends on who did it."
+
+Sundown winced, and gazed up helplessly.  He felt oppressed by the
+broad-chested figure near him.  He felt that he could not get away
+from--what?  Not Corliss, for Corliss was undoubtedly friendly.  In a
+flash he saw that he could not get away from the truth.  Yet he
+determined to shield his old pal of the road.  "You're sure givin' me
+the third degree," he said with an attempt at humor.  "I reckon I got
+to come through.  Boss, are you believin' I didn't take the cash?"
+
+"Sure I am!  But that isn't enough.  Are you working for the Concho,
+Sun, or for some other outfit?"
+
+"The Concho," muttered Sundown stubbornly.
+
+"And I'm the Concho.  You're working for me.  Listen.  I've got a yarn
+to spin.  The man that took the money--or one of them--was short, and
+slim, and clean-shaved, and he didn't wear a puncher hat.  You weren't
+scared of him because he was a coward.  You tried to get him to play
+square and he talked to you while the other man got you from behind.
+That's just a guess, but you furnished the meat for it."
+
+"Me hands are up," said Sundown.
+
+"All right.  I'm not going to get after Billy for this.  You lied to
+me, but you lied to save your pal.  Shake!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+THE STORM
+
+Will Corliss, riding through the timberlands toward the west, shivered
+as a drop of rain touched his hand.  He glanced up through the trees.
+The sky seemed clouded to the level of the pine-tops.  He spurred his
+horse as he again felt a spatter of rain.  Before him lay several miles
+of rugged trail leading to an open stretch across which he would again
+enter the timber on the edge of the hollow where Soper's cabin was
+concealed.  When Corliss had suggested Soper's place as a rendezvous,
+Fadeaway had laughed to himself, knowing that old man Soper had been
+driven from the country by a committee of irate ranchers.  The illicit
+sale of whiskey to the cowboys of the Concho Valley had been the cause
+of Soper's hurried evacuation.  The cabin had been burned to the
+ground.  Fadeaway knew that without Soper's assistance Corliss would be
+unable to get to the railroad--would be obliged either to return to the
+Concho or starve on the empty mesas.
+
+Corliss bent his head as the rain drove faster.  When he arrived at the
+edge of the mesa, the storm had increased to a steady dull roar of
+rushing rain.  He hesitated to face the open and reined up beneath a
+spruce.  He was drenched and shivered.  The fever of drink had died out
+leaving him unstrung and strangely fearful of the night.  His horse
+stood with lowered head, its storm-blown mane whipping in the wind like
+a wet cloth.  A branch riven from a giant pine crashed down behind him.
+Corliss jerked upright in the saddle, and the horse, obeying the
+accidental touch of the spurs, plodded out to the mesa with head held
+sideways.
+
+The rider's hands grew numb and he dropped the reins over the horn and
+shoved his hands in his pockets.  Unaccustomed to riding he grew weary
+and, despite the storm, he drowsed, to awaken with a start as gusts of
+wind swept against his face.  He raised his dripping hat and shook the
+water from it.  Then he crouched shivering in the saddle.  He cursed
+himself for a fool and longed for shelter and the warmth of a fire.
+Slowly a feeling of helplessness stole over him and he pictured himself
+returning to the Concho and asking forgiveness of his brother.  Yet he
+kept stubbornly on, glancing ahead from time to time until at last he
+saw the dim edge of the distant timber--a black line against the
+darkness.  He urged his horse to a trot, and was all but thrown as the
+animal suddenly avoided a prairie-dog hole.  The sweep of the storm was
+broken as he entered the farther timber.  Then came the muffled roll of
+thunder and an instant white flash.  The horse reared as a bolt struck
+a pine.  Came the ghastly whistle of flying splinters as the tree was
+shattered.  Corliss grabbed the saddle-horn as the horse bolted through
+the timberlands, working against the curb to reach the open.  Once more
+on the trail the animal quieted.  They topped a gentle rise.  Corliss
+breathed his relief.  Soper's cabin was in the hollow below them.
+
+Cautiously the horse worked sideways down the ridge, slipping and
+checking short as the loose stones slithered beneath his feet.  At the
+bottom of the hollow Corliss reined up and shouted.  The wind whipped
+his call to a thin shred of sound that was swept away in the roar of
+the storm.  Again he shouted.  As though in answer there came a burning
+flash of blue.  The dripping trees surrounding the hollow jumped into
+view to be blotted from sight as the succeeding crash of thunder
+diminished to far titanic echoes.  Where Soper's cabin had stood there
+was a wet, glistening heap of fallen logs and rafters, charred and
+twisted.  The lightning flash had revealed more to the rider than the
+desolation of the burned and abandoned homestead.  He saw with instant
+vividness the wrecked framework of his own plans.  He heard the echo of
+Fadeaway's sneering laugh in the fury of the wind.  He told himself
+that he had been duped and that he deserved it.  Lacking physical
+strength to carry him through to a place of tentative safety, he gave
+up, and credited his sudden regret to true repentance rather than to
+weakness.  He would return to the Concho, knowing that his brother
+would forgive him.  He wept as he thought of his attitude of the
+repentant and broken son returning in sorrow to atone for his sin and
+shame.  He magnified his wrongdoing to heroic proportions endeavoring
+to filch some sentimental comfort from the romantic.  He it was that
+needed the sympathy of the world and not his brother John; John was a
+plodder, a clod, good enough, but incapable of emotion, or the finer
+feelings.  And Eleanor Loring . . . she could have saved him from all
+this.  He had begun well; had written acceptable verse . . . then had
+come her refusal to marry him.  What a fool he had been through it all!
+The wind and rain chastised his emotional intoxication, and he turned
+shivering to look for shelter.  Dismounting, he crept beneath a low
+spruce and shivered beneath the scant covering of his saddle-blanket.
+To-morrow the sun would shine on a new world.  He would arise and
+conquer his temptation.  As he drifted to troubled sleep he knew, deep
+in his heart, that despite his heroics he would at that moment have
+given the little canvas sack of his brother's money for the
+obliterating warmth of intoxication.
+
+With the morning sun he rose and saddled.  About to mount, his
+stiffened muscles blundered.  He slipped and fell.  The horse, keen
+with hunger, jumped away from him and trotted down the trail.  He
+followed shouting.  His strength gave out and he gave up the chase,
+wondering where the horse would go.  Stumbling along the slippery
+trail, he cursed his clumsiness.  A chill sweat gathered on his face.
+His legs trembled and he was forced to rest frequently.  Crossing a
+stream, he stooped and drank.  Then he toiled on, eagerly scanning the
+hoof-prints in the rain-gutted trail.
+
+The sun was high when he arrived at the wagon-road above the Concho.
+Dazed and weak, he endeavored to determine which direction the horse
+had taken.  The heat of the sun oppressed him.  He became faint, and,
+crawling beneath the shade of a wayside fir, he rested, promising
+himself that he would, when the afternoon shadows drifted across the
+road, make his way to the Concho.  He had slept little more than an
+hour when the swift patter of hoofs wakened him.  As he got to his
+feet, a buckboard, drawn by a pair of pinto range-ponies, drew up.
+Corliss started back.  The Mexican driving the ponies turned toward the
+sweet-faced Spanish woman beside him as though questioning her
+pleasure.  She spoke in quick, low accents.  He cramped the wagon and
+she stepped to the road.  The Senora Loring, albeit having knowledge of
+his recent return to Antelope, his drinking, and all the unsavory
+rumors connected with his return, greeted Corliss as a mother greets a
+wayward son.  She set all this knowledge aside and spoke to him with
+the placid wisdom of her years and nature.  Her gentle solicitude
+touched him.  She had been his foster-mother in those years that he and
+his brother had known no other fostering hand than that of old Hi
+Wingle, the cook, whose efforts to "raise" the Corliss boys were more
+largely faithful than discriminating.
+
+Senora Loring knew at a glance that he was in trouble of some kind.
+She asked no questions, but held out her hands.
+
+Corliss, blind with tears, dropped to his knee: "Madre!  Madre!" he
+cried.
+
+She patted his head.  "You come with me.  Then perhaps you have to say
+to me that which now you do not say."
+
+He shook his head, but she paid no attention, leading the way to the
+buckboard.  He climbed beside the driver, then with an ejaculation of
+apology, leaped to the road and helped her in.
+
+"Where you would like to go?" she asked.  "The Concho?"
+
+Again he shook his head.  "I can't.  I--"
+
+She questioned his hesitation with her eyes.
+
+"I'll tell you when--when I feel better.  Madre, I'm sick."
+
+"I know," she said.
+
+Then, turning to the driver, she gestured down the wagon-trail.
+
+They drove through the morning woodlands, swung to the east, and
+crossed the ford.  The clustered adobes of the Loring homestead
+glimmered in the sun.  Corliss glanced across the river toward the
+Concho.  Again the Senora Loring questioned him with a glance.
+
+He shook his head.  "Away--anywhere," he said, gesturing toward the
+horizon.
+
+"You come home with me," she said quietly.  "Nellie is not at the home
+to-day.  You rest, and then perhaps you go to the Concho."
+
+As they entered the gateway of the Loring rancho, Corliss made as
+though to dismount.  The Senora Loring touched his arm.  He shrugged
+his shoulders; then gazed ahead at the peaceful habitation of the old
+sheep-herder.
+
+The Senora told the driver to tie the team and wait.  Then she entered
+the house.  Corliss gazed about the familiar room while she made
+coffee.  Half starved, he ate ravenously the meal she prepared for him.
+Later, when she came and sat opposite, her plump hands folded in her
+lap, her whole attitude restful and assuring, he told her of the
+robbery, concealing nothing save the name of Fadeaway.
+
+Then he drew the canvas sack from his pocket.  "I thought I could go
+back and face it out, but now, I can't.  Will you--return it--and--tell
+John?"
+
+She nodded.  "Si!  If you wish it so, my son.  You would not do that as
+I would tell you--so I say nothing.  I can only--what you say--help,
+with my hands," and she gestured gracefully as though leading a child.
+"You have money to go away?"
+
+"No, madre."
+
+"Then I give you the money."  And the Senora, ignoring his half-hearted
+protests, stepped to an adjoining room and returned.  "Here is this to
+help you go.  Some day you come back strong and like your father the
+big John Corliss.  Then I shall be much glad."
+
+"I'll pay it back.  I'll do anything--"
+
+But she silenced him, touching his lips with her fingers.  "No.  The
+promise to make is not so hard, but to keep . . .  Ah!  When you come
+back, then you promise; si?"
+
+Not a word of reproof, not a glance or a look of disapproval, yet
+Corliss knew that the Senora's heart was heavy with sorrow for him.  He
+strode to the doorway.  Senora Loring followed and called to the
+driver.  As Corliss shook hands with her, she kissed him.
+
+An anger against himself flushed his cheek.  "I don't know which road
+I'll take, madre,--after I leave here,--this country.  But I shall
+always remember . . .  And tell Nell . . . that . . ." he hesitated.
+
+The Senora smiled and patted his arm.  "Si!  I understand."
+
+"And, madre, there is a man--vaquero, or cook, a big man, tall, that
+they call Sundown, who works for the Concho.  If you see him, please
+tell him--that I sent it back."  And he gestured toward the table
+whereon lay the little canvas sack of gold.  "Good-bye!"
+
+He stepped hurriedly from the veranda, climbed to the seat of the
+buckboard, and spoke to the driver.  For a long time the Senora stood
+in the doorway watching the glint of the speeding ponies.  Then she
+went to her bedroom and knelt before the little crucifix.  Her prayer
+was, strangely enough, not for Will Corliss.  She prayed that the sweet
+Madonna would forgive her if she had done wrong.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+CHANCE--CONQUEROR
+
+Sundown's return to the camp occasioned some indirect questioning and
+not a little comment.  He told the story of his adventure at the Concho
+in detail up to the point of his conversation with Will Corliss.  Then
+he lapsed into generalities, exhibiting with some little pride the
+wound on his head as evidence of his attempt to prevent the robbery and
+incidentally as a reason for being unable to discourse further upon the
+subject.  His oft-repeated recital invariably concluded with, "I steps
+in and tries to stop the first guy when _Wham!_ round goes the room and
+I takes a sleep."
+
+The men seemed satisfied with Sundown's graphic account in the main.
+Hi Wingle, the cook, asked no questions, but did a great deal of
+thinking.  He was aware that Will Corliss had returned to the Concho,
+and also, through rumor, that Corliss and Fadeaway had been together in
+Antelope.  The fact that the robbers failed to get the money--so it was
+given out--left the drama unfinished, and as such it lacked sustained
+interest.  There would be no bandits to capture; no further excitement;
+so the talk eventually drifted to other subjects.
+
+The assistant cook's evident melancholy finally gave place to a happier
+mood as he realized that he had gained a modicum of respect in a camp
+where hitherto he had been more or less of a joke.  While he grieved
+over the events which led up to his newly attained prestige as a man of
+nerve, he was not a little proud of the prestige itself, and
+principally because he lacked the very quality of courage that he was
+now accredited with.  Perhaps the fact that he had "played square," as
+he saw it, was the true foundation of his attitude.
+
+He discharged his duties as assistant cook with a new and professional
+flourish that amused the riders.  When they rolled from their blankets
+in the crisp air of the morning, they were never kept waiting for their
+coffee, hot bread, and frijoles.  Moreover, he always had a small fire
+going, around which he arranged the tin plates, cups, knives and forks.
+This additional fire was acceptable, as the cooking was done on a large
+sheet-iron camp-stove, the immediate territory of which was sacred to
+Hi Wingle.  Wingle, who had been an old-timer when most of the Concho
+hands were learning the rudiments of the game, took himself and his
+present occupation seriously.  His stove was his altar, though burnt
+offerings were infrequent.  He guarded his culinary precincts with a
+watchful eye.  His attitude was somewhat akin to that of Cardinal
+Richelieu in the handkerchief scene, "Take but one step within these
+sacred bounds and on our head I'll lunch the cuss of Rum," or something
+to that effect.  He was short, ruddy, and bald, and his antithesis,
+Sundown, was a source of constant amazement to him.  Wingle had seen
+many tall men, but never such an elongated individual as his assistant.
+It became the habit of one or another of the boys to ask the cook the
+way to the distant Concho, usually after the evening meal, when they
+were loafing by the camp-fire.  Wingle would thereupon scratch his head
+and assume an air of intense concentration.  "Well," he would
+invariably remark, "you take the trail along Sundown's shadder there,
+and keep a-fannin' it smart for about three hours.  When you come to
+the end of the shadder, take the right fork of the river, and in
+another hour you'll strike the Concho.  That's the quickest way."  And
+this bit of attenuated humor never failed to produce an effect.
+
+
+One morning, about a week after Sundown's return to his duties as
+assistant, while Wingle was drying his hands, preparatory to reading a
+few pages of his favorite novel, Sundown ambled into camp with an
+armful of greasewood, dumped it near the wagon, and, straightening up,
+rolled a cigarette.
+
+Wingle, immersed in the novel, read for a while and then glanced up
+questioningly.
+
+Sundown shook his head.
+
+"Now this here story," said Wingle; "I read her forty-three times come
+next round-up, and blamed if I sabe her yet.  Now, take it where the
+perfesser--a slim gent with large round eye-glasses behind which
+twinkled a couple of deep-set studyus eyes--so the book says; now, take
+it where he talks about them Hopi graves over there in the valley--"
+
+"This here valley?" queried Sundown, immediately interested.
+
+"Sure!  Well, I can sabe all that.  I seen 'em."
+
+"Seen 'em?"
+
+"Sure!  Why Arizona's got more leavin's of history and dead Injuns and
+such, right on top of the ground, than any other State in the Union.
+Why, right over there in the canon of the Concho there's a hull ruined
+Injun village--stones piled up in little circles, and what was huts and
+caves and the leavin's of a old irrigatin' ditch and busted ollas, and
+bones and arrow-heads and picture-writin' on the rocks--bears and
+eagles and mounting-lions and hosses--scratched right on the rocks.
+Them cliffs there is covered with it."
+
+"Them?" queried Sundown, pointing toward the canon, "Do they charge
+anything to see it?"
+
+"Well, seein' they been dead about a thousand years, I reckon not."
+
+"A thousand years!  Huh!  I ain't scared of no Injuns a thousand years
+old.  How far is it to them picture-things?"
+
+"'Bout three mile.  You can take a hoss and mosey over if you like.
+Figure on gettin' back 'round noon."
+
+"Any snakes over there?"
+
+"Comf'table thick.  You might get a pretty good mess of 'em, if you was
+to take your time.  I never bother to look for 'em."
+
+Sundown gazed at his length of nether limb and sighed.
+
+"Snakes won't bother you none," said Wingle, reassuringly.  "They get
+tired, same as anybody, and they'd have to climb too fur to see if you
+was to home."
+
+Sundown rose and saddled a horse.  He mounted and rode slowly toward
+the rim of the distant canon.  At the canon's brink, he dismounted and
+led his horse down the trail, stopping frequently to gaze in wonderment
+at the painted cliffs and masses of red rock strewn along the slopes.
+High up on the perpendicular face of the canon walls he saw many caves
+and wondered how they came to be there.  "Makes a fella feel like
+sayin' his prayers," he muttered.  "Wisht I knowed one."
+
+He drifted on down the trail, which wound around huge fragments of rock
+riven from the cliffs in prehistoric days.  He was awed by the
+immensity of the chasm and talked continuously to his horse which
+shuffled along behind paying careful attention to the footing.  Arrived
+at the stream the horse drank.  Sundown mounted and rode along the
+narrow level paralleling the river course.  The canon widened, and
+before he realized it he was in a narrow valley carpeted with
+bunch-grass and dotted with solitary cypress and infrequent clumps of
+pine.  He paused to inspect a small mound of rock which was partially
+surrounded by a wall of neatly laid stone.  Within the semicircular
+wall was a hole in the ground--the entrance to a cave.  Farther along
+he came upon the ruins of a walled square, unmistakably of human
+construction.  He became interested, and, tying his horse to a
+scrub-cedar, began to dig among the loose stones covering the interior
+of the square.  He discovered a fragment of painted pottery--the
+segment of an olla, smooth, dark red, and decorated with a design in
+black.  He rubbed the earth from the fragment and polished it on his
+overalls.  He unearthed a larger fragment and found that it matched the
+other piece.  He was happy.  He forgot his surroundings, and scratched
+and dug in the ruin until he accumulated quite a little pile of shards,
+oddly marked and colored.  Eventually he gathered up his spoils and
+tied them in his handkerchief.
+
+Leaving his horse, he meandered down the valley until he came to
+another and larger cave.  "Wonder what's down there?" he soliloquized.
+"Mebby one of them Injuns.  Been there a thousand years waitin' for
+somethin' to turn up.  'Nough to make a fella tired, waitin' that
+long."  He wanted to explore the cave, but he was afraid.  Moreover,
+the interior was dark.  He pondered.  Finally his natural fondness for
+mild adventure overcame his fear.  "Got some matches!" he exclaimed,
+joyfully.  "Wonder if it's deep?  Guess I could put me legs in first,
+and if nothin' bites me legs, why, I could follow 'em down to bottom."
+He put his head in the hole.  "Hey!" he hallooed, "are you in there?"
+He rose to his feet.  "Nothin' doin'.  Well, here goes.  I sure want to
+see what's down there."
+
+In his excitement he overlooked the possibility of disturbing a torpid
+rattler.  He slid feet first into the cave, found that he could all but
+stand upright, and struck a match.
+
+
+The ancient Hopis buried their dead in a sitting posture on a woven
+grass mat, with an olla, and frequently a bone dagger, beside them.  In
+the clean, dry air of the uplands of Arizona the process of decay is
+slow.  Sundown, unaware of this, hardly anticipated that which
+confronted him as the match flamed blue and flared up, lighting the
+interior of the cave with instant brilliance.  About six feet from
+where he crouched was the dried and shriveled figure of a Hopi chief,
+propped against the wall of the cave.  Beside the figure stood the
+painted olla untarnished by age.  The dead Indian's head was bowed upon
+his breast, and his skeleton arms, parchment-skinned and rigid, were
+crossed upon his knees.
+
+Sundown scrambled for the circle of daylight above him.  "Gee Gosh!" he
+panted, as he got to his feet outside the cave.  "It was him!"  He
+clambered over the circle of stones and backed away, eyeing the
+entrance as though he expected to see the Hopi emerge at any moment.
+He crouched behind a boulder, his pulses racing.  He was keyed to a
+high tension of expectancy.  In fact, he was in a decidedly receptive
+mood for that which immediately happened.  He noticed that his horse, a
+hundred yards or so up the valley, was circling the cedar and pulling
+back on the reins.  He wondered what was the matter with him.  The
+horse was usually a well-behaved animal.  The explanation came rapidly.
+Sundown saw the horse back and tear loose from the cedar; saw him whirl
+and charge down the valley snorting.  "Guess he seen one, too!" said
+Sundown making no effort to check the frightened animal.  Almost
+immediately came the long-drawn bell of a dog following a hot scent.
+Sundown turned from watching his vanishing steed and saw a huge
+timber-wolf leap from a thicket.  Behind the wolf came Chance, neck
+outstretched, and flanks working at top speed.  The wolf dodged a
+boulder, flashing around it with no apparent loss of ground.  Chance
+rose over the boulder as though borne on the wind.  The wolf turned and
+snapped at him.  Sundown decided instantly that the sepulcher of the
+dead Hopi was preferable to the proximity of the live wolf, and he made
+for the cave.
+
+The wolf circled the wall of stones and also made for the cave.
+Sundown had arrived a little ahead of him.  The top of Sundown's head
+appeared for an instant; then vanished.  The wolf backed snarling
+against the wall as Chance leaped in.  When Sundown's head again
+appeared, the whirling mass of writhing fur and kicking legs had taken
+more definite shape.  Chance had fastened on the wolf's shoulder.  The
+wolf was slashing effectively at the dog's side.  Presently they lay
+down facing each other.  Chance licked a long gash in his foreleg.  The
+wolf snapped as he lay and a red slaver dripped from his fangs.  Not
+twelve feet away, Sundown gazed upon the scene with fear-wide eyes.
+"Go to it, Chance!" he quavered, and his encouragement was all but the
+dog's undoing, for he lost the wolf's gaze for an instant, barely
+turning in time to meet the vicious charge.  Sundown groaned as the
+wolf, with a slashing stroke, ripped the dog's neck from ear to
+shoulder.  The stones in the enclosure were spattered with red as they
+whirled, each trying to reach the throat of the other.  Suddenly Chance
+leaped up and over the wolf, lunging for his neck as he descended.  The
+wolf rolled from under and backed toward the cave.  "Hey!" yelled
+Sundown.  "You can't come in here!"
+
+Chance, weakened from loss of blood, lay watching the wolf as it
+crouched tensely.  Again the great gray shadow lunged and a bright
+streak sprung up on the dog's side.  "Gee Gosh!" whined Sundown; "he
+can't stand much more of that!"  Undoubtedly Chance knew it, for he
+straight-way gathered himself and leaped in, diving low for the wolf's
+fore leg.  As the wolf turned his shoulder, Chance again sprang over
+him and, descending, caught him just behind the ear, and held.  The
+wolf writhed and snarled.  Chance gripped in and in, with each savage
+shake of his head biting deeper.  In a mighty effort to free himself
+the wolf surged backward, dragging Chance around the enclosure.
+Sundown, rising from the cave's mouth, crouched before it.  "You got
+him!  You got him!" he cried.  "Once more, now!"
+
+The body of the wolf quivered and sagged, then stiffened as if for a
+last effort.  Chance held.  They were both lying on the stones now.
+Chance with fore feet braced against the wolf's chest.  Presently the
+dog gave a final shake, drew back, and lay panting.  From head to
+flanks he was soaked with blood.  The wolf was dead.
+
+Sundown stood up.  "Good boy, Chance!" he said.  The great, gaunt body
+of the dog raised itself on trembling legs, the pride of the conqueror
+lighting for a moment his dimming eyes.  "It's me, Chance!" said
+Sundown, stroking the dog's head.  Chance wagged his tail and reaching
+up his torn and bleeding muzzle licked Sundown's hand.  Then slowly he
+sank to the ground, breathed heavily, and rolled to his side.  Sundown
+knelt over him and unaccustomed tears ran down his lean cheeks and
+dripped on the clotted fur.  "You was some fighter, Chance, ole pal!
+Gee Gosh!  He's nothin' except cuts and slashes all over.  Gee Gosh!"
+He drew the dog's head to his lap and sat crooning weird, broken words
+and stroking the torn ears.  Suddenly he stopped and put his hand over
+the dog's heart.  Then he leaped to his feet and, dumping the fragments
+of pottery from his bandanna, tore it in strips and began bandaging the
+wounds.  The gash on Chance's neck still bled.  Sundown drew his knife
+and cut the sleeve from his shirt.  He ripped it open and bound the
+dog's neck.  Realizing that Chance was not dead, he became valiant.
+"We sure put up the great scrap, didn't we, pal?  We licked him!  But
+if he'd 'a' licked you . . ."  And Sundown gazed at the still form of
+the wolf and shuddered, not knowing that the wolf would have fled at
+sight of him had he been able to get away from Chance.
+
+
+Two hours later, Eleanor Loring, riding along the canon stream, met a
+lean giant, one sleeve of his shirt gone, his hat missing, and his
+hands splotched with blood.  His eyes were wild, his face white and
+set.  He carried a great, shaggy dog in his arms.
+
+"Are you hurt?" she asked, swinging from her pony and coming to him.
+
+"Me?  No, lady.  But me pal here is hurt bad.  Jest breathin'.  Killed
+a wolf back there.  Mebby I can save him."
+
+"Why, it's Chance--of the Concho!"
+
+"Yes, lady.  What is left of him."
+
+"Do you work for the Concho?  Won't you take my horse?"
+
+"I'm assistant cook at the camp.  No, thanks, lady.  Ridin' might
+joggle him and start him to bleedin'.  I can carry him so he'll be
+easier-like."
+
+"But how did it happen?"
+
+"I dunno.  Chance chased the wolf and they went to it where I was
+explorin' one of them caves.  I guess I better be goin'."
+
+The girl reined her horse around and rode down the valley trail,
+pausing occasionally to watch the tall figure climbing the canon with
+that shapeless burden in his arms.  "I wonder if any other man on the
+Concho would have done that?" she asked herself.  And Sundown, despite
+his more or less terrifying appearance, won her estimation for kindness
+at once.
+
+Slowly he climbed the canon trail, resting at each level.  The dog hung
+a limp, dead weight in his arms.  Midway up the trail Sundown rested
+again, and gazed down into the valley.  He imagined he could discern
+the place of the fight.  "That there wolf," he soliloquized, "he was
+some fighter, too.  Mebby he didn't like to get licked any more than
+Chance, here.  Wonder what they was fightin' about?  I dunno.  But, Gee
+Gosh, she was one dandy scrap!"
+
+At the top of the canon wall he again rested.  He expected to be
+discharged for being late, but solaced himself with the thought that if
+he could save Chance, it was worth the risk.
+
+The riders had returned to the chuck-wagon when Sundown arrived lugging
+the inert body of the wolf-dog.  They gathered around and asked brief
+questions.  Sundown, busy washing the dog's wounds, answered as well as
+he could.  His account of the fight did not suffer for lack of
+embellishment, and while he did not absolutely state that he had taken
+a hand in the fight, his story implied it.
+
+"Don't see nothin' on you to show you been in a scrap," remarked a
+young puncher.
+
+"That's because you can't see in deep enough," retorted Sundown.  "If I
+wasn't in every jump of that fight, me heart was."
+
+"Better shoot him and put him out of his sufferin'," suggested the
+puncher.
+
+Sundown rose from beside the dog.  Shoot Chance?  Not so long as he
+could keep between the dog and the cowboy's gun.  The puncher, half in
+jest, reached for his holster.  Sundown's overwrought nerves gave way.
+He dropped to his knees and lifted his long arms imploringly.  "Don't!
+Don't!" he wailed.  "He ain't dead!  Don't shoot my pal!"
+
+Bud Shoop, who had kept silent, shouldered the puncher aside.  "Cut it
+out, Sinker," he growled.  "Can't you sabe that Sundown means it?"
+
+
+Later in the evening, and fortified with a hearty meal.  Sundown gave a
+revised version of the fight, wherein his participation was modified,
+though the story lost nothing in re-telling.  And, indeed, his own
+achievement, of lugging Chance up the canon trail, awakened a kind of
+respect among the easy-going cowboys.  To carry an eighty-pound dog up
+that trail took sand!  Again Sundown had unconsciously won their
+respect.  Nothing was said about his late return.  And his horse had
+found its way back to the camp.
+
+
+Sometime in the night, Bud Shoop was awakened by the man next him.
+
+"What's goin' on?" queried Shoop, rising on his elbow.
+
+"Ask me again," said the puncher.  "Listen!"
+
+From the vicinity of the wagon came the gurgle of water and then a
+distinctly canine sneeze.
+
+"Dinged if he ain't fussin' with that dog again!" grumbled Shoop.  "The
+dam' fool!"  Which, as it is the spirit which giveth life to the
+letter, was not altogether uncomplimentary.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+A GIFT
+
+Warned by John Corliss of Loring's evident intent to graze his sheep on
+the west side of the Concho River, the cattle-men held a quiet meeting
+at the ranch of the Concho and voted unanimously to round up a month
+earlier than usual.  The market was at a fair level.  Beef was in
+demand.  Moreover, the round-up would, by the mere physical presence of
+the riders and the cattle, check for the time being any such move as
+Loring contemplated, as the camps would be at the ford.  Meanwhile the
+cattle-men again petitioned the Ranger at Antelope to stir up the
+service at Washington in regard to grazing allotments.
+
+The round-up began.  The Concho outfit moved camp to the ford and
+Sundown had his first introduction to real work.  From morning till
+night and far into the night the fires were going.  Groups of belated
+riders swung in and made for the chuck-wagons.  Sundown, following a
+strenuous eighteen hours of uninterrupted toil, solemnly borrowed a
+piece of "tarp" from his outfit on which he lettered the legend:--
+
+  "CAFE DE CONCHO--MEELS AT ALL
+  HOURS--PRIVIT TABELS FOR LADYS"
+
+He hung the tarp in a conspicuous place and retired to rest.  The
+following morning his efforts were applauded with much picturesque
+expletive, and even criticism was evoked by a lean puncher who insisted
+"that the tall guy might be a good cook all right, but he sure didn't
+know how to spell 'calf.'"  Naturally the puncher's erudition leaned
+toward cattle and the range.
+
+At all times conspicuous, for he topped by a head and shoulders the
+tallest rider on the range.  Sundown became doubly conspicuous as the
+story of his experience with the hold-ups and his rescue of Chance
+became known.  If he strutted, it was pardonable, for he strutted among
+men difficult to wrest approval from, and he had won their approval.
+
+At Hi Wingle's suggestion, he "packed a gun"--a formidable .45 lent him
+by that gracious individual, for it grieved the solid Wingle's soul to
+see so notable a character go unarmed.  Sundown, like many a wiser man,
+was not indifferent to the effect of clothing and equipment.  Obliged
+frequently to relate his midnight adventure with the robbers, he became
+a past-master in the art of dramatic expression.  "If I'd 'a' had me
+gun with me," he was wont to say, slapping the holster significantly,
+"the deal might 'a' turned out different.  I reckon it's luck I
+didn't."  Which may have been true enough, for Sundown would
+undoubtedly have been afraid to use the weapon and Fadeaway might have
+misunderstood his bungling.
+
+In his spare time he built a lean-to of odds and ends, and beneath it
+Chance drowsed away the long, sunny hours while Sundown was rustling
+firewood or holding hot argument with an obstreperous dutch-oven.  And
+Chance became the pet and the pride of the outfit.  Riders from distant
+ranches would stray over to the lean-to and look at him, commenting on
+his size and elaborating on the fact that it usually took two of the
+best dogs ever whelped to pull down a timber-wolf.
+
+Even Fadeaway, now riding for the Blue, became enthusiastic and boasted
+of his former friendship with Chance.  When he essayed the intimacy of
+patting the dog's head, some of the onlookers doubted him, for Chance
+received these overtures with a deep-throated growl.
+
+"He won't let nobody touch him but that Sundown gent," cautioned a
+bystander.
+
+"Guess he's loco since he got chewed up," said Fadeaway, retreating.
+
+Chance licked his wounds and recovered slowly.  He would lie in the
+sun, watching with unwinking gaze the camp and the cluster of men about
+it until the form of Sundown loomed through the mass.  Then he would
+beat the ground with his tail and whine expectantly.  As he became
+stronger, he ventured to stretch his wound-stiffened muscles in short
+pilgrimages to the camp, where the men welcomed him with hearty and
+profane zest.  Was he not the slayer of their enemy's sheep and the
+killer of the timber-wolf?  Eventually he was presented with a broad
+collar studded with brass spikes, and engraved upon it was the
+sanguinary and somewhat ambiguous legend: "Chance--The Killer of the
+Concho."
+
+
+John Corliss, visiting the round-up, rode over to Sundown's tepee, as
+it was called.  The assistant cook was greasing Chance's wounds.
+
+"How is he getting along?" asked Corliss.
+
+"Fine, boss, fine!  This here is some little ole red-cross ward,
+believe me!  He's gettin' over bein' lame and he eats regular."
+
+"Here, Chance!" called Corliss.
+
+The dog rose stiffly and stalked to his master, smelt of him and wagged
+his tail, then stood with lowered head as though pondering some serious
+dog-logic.
+
+"He's kind of queer," explained Sundown, "but he's a whole pile better
+than he was a spell ago.  Had to bring him water and feed him like a
+baby cuttin' teeth--though I never seen one doin' that.  He wouldn't
+let nobody touch him 'ceptin' me."
+
+"Is he able to travel?"
+
+"Oh, some."
+
+"Think he could make it to the Concho?"
+
+Sundown hesitated.  "Mebby.  Yes, I reckon he could.  He can run all
+right, only I guess he kind of likes hangin' around me."  And Sundown
+glanced sideways at Corliss.
+
+"He seems all right.  I guess I'll take him back with me.  I don't like
+the idea of his running loose here."
+
+"He ain't bitin' nobody," assured Sundown.
+
+Corliss glanced shrewdly at the other's lean, questioning face.  "Guess
+you won't miss him much.  How are you making it?"
+
+"Me?  Fine!  Reckon I'll take out me papers for a full-chested range
+cook afore long.  You see the L.D. outfit says that I could have a job
+with them after the round-up.  It kind of leaked out about them pies.
+'Course they was joshin', mebby.  I dunno."
+
+"The L.D. boys are all right," said Corliss.  "If you want to make a
+change--"
+
+"See here, boss!  I done some ramblin' in my time.  Guess because I was
+lookin' for somethin' new and excitin'.  Well, I reckon they's plenty
+new and excitin' right to home on the Concho.  Any time I get tired of
+fallin' off hosses, and gettin' beat up, and mixin' up in dog and wolf
+fights, why, I can go to bustin' broncos to keep me from goin' to
+sleep.  Then Chance there, he needs lookin' after."
+
+Corliss seemingly ignored the gentle hint.  He mounted and called to
+the dog.  Chance made no movement to follow him.  Corliss frowned.
+"Here, Chance!" he commanded, slapping his thigh with his gauntleted
+hand.  The dog followed at the horse's heels as Corliss rode across the
+hard-packed circle around the camp.  Sundown's throat tightened.  His
+pal was gone.
+
+He puttered about, straightening the blankets.  "Gee Gosh! but this
+here shack looks empty!  Never knowed sick folks could be so much
+comp'ny.  And Chance is folks, all right.  Talk about blue blood!  Huh!
+I reckon a thoroughbred dog is prouder than common folks, like me.
+Some king, he was!  Layin' there lookin' out at them punchers and his
+eyes sad-like and proud, and turnin' his head slow, watchin' 'em like
+they was workin' for him.  They's somethin' about class that gets a
+fella, even in a dog.  And most folks knows it, but won't let on."
+
+He took Chance's drinking-basin--a bread-pan appropriated from the
+outfit--and the frayed saddle-blanket that had been the dog's bed, and
+carried them to the cottonwoods edging the river.  There he hid the
+things.  He returned to the lean-to and threw himself on his blankets.
+He felt as though he had just buried a friend.  A cowboy strolled up
+and squatted in front of the lean-to.  He gazed at the interior, nodded
+to Sundown, and rolled a cigarette.  He smoked for a while, glanced up
+at the sky, peered round the camp, and shrugged his shoulders.
+
+Sundown nodded.  "You said it all, Joe.  He's gone."
+
+The cowboy blew rings of smoke, watching them spread and dissolve in
+the evening air.  "Had a hoss onct," he began slowly,--"ornery,
+glass-eyed, she-colt that got mixed up in a bob-wire fence.  Seein' as
+she was like to make the buzzards happy 'most any day, I took to
+nussin' her.  Me, Joe Scott, eh?  And a laugh comin'.  Well, the boys
+joshed--mebby you hearn some of 'em call me Doc.  That's why.  The boys
+joshed and went around like they was in a horsepital, quiet and
+steppin' catty.  I could write a book out of them joshin's and sell
+her, if I could write her with a brandin'-iron or a rope.  Anyhow, the
+colt she gets well and I turns her out on the range, which ought to be
+the end of the story, but it ain't.  She come nickerin' after me like I
+was her man, hangin' around when I showed up at the ranch jest like I
+was a millionaire and she wantin' to get married.  Couldn't get shet of
+her.  So one day I ropes her and says to myself I'll make a trick hoss
+of her and sell her.  The fust trick she done wasn't the one I reckoned
+to learn her.  She lifted me one in the jeans and I like to lost all
+the teeth in my head.  'You're welcome, lady,' says I, 'for this here
+'fectionate token of thanks for my nussin' and gettin' joshed to
+fare-ye-well.  Bein' set on learnin' her, I shortened the rope and let
+her kick a few holes in the climate.  When she got tired of that, I
+begins workin' on her head, easy-like and talkin' kind.  Fust thing I
+knowed she takes a san'wich out of my shirt, the meat part bein' a
+piece of my hide.  Then I got riled.  I lit into her with the boots,
+and we had it.  When I got tired of exercisin' my feet, she comes to me
+rubbin' her nose ag'in' me and kind of nickerin' and lovin' up
+tremendous, bein' a she-hoss.  'Now,' says I, 'I'm goin' to do the
+courtin', sister.'  And I sot out to learn her to shake hands.  She got
+most as good as a state senator at it: purfessional-like, but not real
+glad to see you.  Jest put on.  Then I learns her to nod yes.  That was
+hard.  Then I gets her so she would lay down and stay till I told her
+to get up.  'Course it takes time and I didn't have the time reg'lar.
+I feeds her every time, though.  Then she took to sleepin' ag'in' the
+bunk-house every night, seein' as she run loose jest like a dog.  When
+somebody'd get up in the mornin', there she would be with her eyes
+lookin' in the winder, shinin', and her ears lookin' in, too.  You see
+she was waitin' for her beau to come out, which was me.  She took to
+followin' me on the range when I rid out, and she got fat and sizable.
+The boys give up joshin' and got kind of interested.  But that ain't
+what I'm gettin' at.  Come one day, about two year after I'd been
+monkeyin' with learnin' her her lessons, when I thinks to break her to
+ride.  I got shet of the idea of sellin' her and was goin' to keep her
+myself.  The boys was lookin' for to see me get piled, always figurin'
+a pet hoss was worse to break than a bronc.  She did some fussin', but
+she never bucked--never pitched a move.  Thinks I, I sure got a winner.
+Next day she was gone.  Never seen her after that.  Trailed all over
+the range, but she sure vamoosed.  And nobody never seen her after
+that.  She sure made a dent in my feelin's."
+
+Sundown sat up blinking.  "I reckon that's the difference between a
+hoss and a dog," he said, slowly.  "Now, a hoss and me ain't what you'd
+call a nacheral combination.  And a hoss gets away and don't come back.
+But a dog comes back every time, if he can.  'Most any hoss will stay
+where the feedin' is good, but a dog won't.  He wants to be where his
+boss is."
+
+"And that there Chance is with the boss," said the cowboy, gesturing
+toward the north.  "Seen him foller him down the trail."
+
+Sundown nodded.  The cowboy departed, swaggering away in the dusk.
+
+Just before Sundown was called to take his turn with the night-shift, a
+lean, brown shape tore through the camp, upsetting a pot of frijoles
+and otherwise disturbing the peace and order of the culinary department.
+
+"Coyote!" shouted Wingle, vainly reaching for the gun that he had given
+to Sundown.
+
+"Coyote nothin'!" said a puncher, laughing.  "It's the Killer come back
+hot-foot to find his pardner."
+
+Chance bounded into the lean-to: it was empty.  He sniffed at the place
+where his bed had once been, found Sundown's tracks and followed them
+toward the river.  Sundown was on his knees pawing over something that
+looked very much like a torn and frayed saddle-blanket.  Chance
+volleyed into him, biting playfully at his sleeve, and whining.
+
+Sundown jumped to his feet.  He stood speechless.  Then a slow grin
+crept to his face.  "Gee Gosh!" he said, softly.  "Gee Gosh!  It's you!"
+
+Chance lay down panting.  He had come far and fast.  Sundown gathered
+up the blanket and pan, rose and marched to the shack.  "I was airin'
+'em out against your comin' back," he explained, untruthfully.  The
+fact was that he could not bear to see the empty bed in the lean-to and
+had hidden it in the bushes.
+
+The dog watched him spread the blanket, but would not lie down.
+Instead he followed Sundown to the camp and found a place under the
+chuck-wagon, where he watched his lean companion work over the fires
+until midnight.  If Sundown disappeared for a minute in search of
+something.  Chance was up and at his heels.  Hi Wingle expressed
+himself profanely in regard to the return of the dog, adding with
+unction, "There's a pair of 'em; a pair of 'em."  Which ambiguity
+seemed to satisfy him immensely.
+
+When Sundown finally returned to the lean-to, he was too happy to
+sleep.  He built a small fire, rolled a cigarette and sat gazing into
+the flames.  Chance sat beside him, proud, dignified, contented.
+Sundown became drowsy and slept, his head fallen forward and his lean
+arms crossed upon his knees.  Chance waited patiently for him to waken.
+Finally the dog nuzzled Sundown's arm with little jerks of impatience.
+"What's bitin' you now?" mumbled Sundown.  "We're here, ain't we?"
+Nevertheless he slipped his arm around the dog's muscular shoulders and
+talked to him.  "How'd you get away?  The boss'll raise peelin's over
+this, Chance.  It ain't like to set good with him."  He noticed that
+Chance frequently scratched at his collar as though it irritated him.
+Finally he slipped his fingers under the collar.  "Suthin' got ketched
+in here," he said, unbuckling the strap.  Tied inside the collar was a
+folded piece of paper.  Sundown was about to throw it away when he
+reconsidered and unfolded it.  In the flickering light of the fire he
+spread the paper and read laboriously:--
+
+
+"Chance followed me to the Concho because I made him come.  He showed
+that he didn't want to stay.  I let him go.  If he gets back to you,
+keep him.  He is yours.
+
+"JOHN CORLISS."
+
+
+Sundown folded the note and carefully tucked it in his pocket.  He rose
+and slapped his chest grandiloquently.  "Chance, ole pal," he said with
+a brave gesture, "you're mine!  Got the dockyments to show.  What do
+you think?"
+
+Chance, with mouth open and lolling tongue, seemed to be laughing.
+
+Sundown reached out his long arm as one who greets a friend.
+
+The dog extended his muscular fore leg and solemnly placed his paw in
+Sundown's hand.  No document was required to substantiate his
+allegiance to his new master, nor his new master's title to ownership.
+Despite genealogy, each was in his way a thoroughbred.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+SUNDOWN, VAQUERO
+
+The strenuous days of the round-up were over.  Bands of riders departed
+for their distant ranches leaving a few of their number to ride line
+and incidentally to keep a vigilant eye On the sheep-camps.
+
+David Loring, realizing that he had been checkmated in the first move
+of the game in which cattle and sheep were the pawns and cowboys and
+herders the castles, knights, and, stretching the metaphor a bit,
+bishops, tacitly admitted defeat and employed a diagonal to draw the
+cattle-men's forces elsewhere.  He determined to locate on the
+abandoned water-hole ranch, homestead it, and, by so doing, cut off the
+supply of water necessary to the cattle on the west side of the Concho
+River.  This would be entering the enemy's territory with a vengeance,
+yet there was no law prohibiting his homesteading the ranch, the title
+of which had reverted to the Government.  Too shrewd to risk legal
+entanglement by placing one of his employees on the homestead, he
+decided to have his daughter file application, and nothing forbade her
+employing whom she chose to do the necessary work to prove up.  The
+plan appealed to the girl for various reasons, one of which was that
+she might, by her presence, avert the long-threatened war between the
+two factions.
+
+Sundown and, indirectly, Fadeaway precipitated the impending trouble.
+Fadeaway, riding for the Blue, was left with a companion to ride line
+on the mesas.  Sundown, although very much unlike Othello, found that
+his occupation was gone.  Assistant cooks were a drug on the range.  He
+was equipped with a better horse, a rope, quirt, slicker, and
+instructions to cover daily a strip of territory between the Concho and
+the sheep-camps.  He became in fact an itinerant patrol, his mere
+physical presence on the line being all that was required of him.
+
+
+It was the Senora Loring who drove to the Concho one morning and was
+welcomed by Corliss to whom she gave the little sack of gold.  She told
+him all that he wished to know in regard to his brother Will, pleading
+for him with motherly gentleness.  Corliss assured her that he felt no
+anger toward his brother, but rather solicitude, and made her happy by
+his generous attitude toward the wrongdoer.  He had already heard that
+his brother had driven to Antelope and taken the train for the West.
+His great regret was that Will had not written to him or come to him
+directly, instead of leaving to the good Senora the task of
+explanation.  "Never figured that repenting by proxy was the best
+plan," he told the Senora.  "But he couldn't have chosen a better
+proxy."  At which she smiled, and in departing blessed him in her
+sincere and simple manner, assuring him in turn that should the sheep
+and cattle ever come to an understanding--the Spanish for which
+embraced the larger aspect of the problem--there was nothing she
+desired or prayed for more than the friendship and presence of Corliss
+at the Loring hacienda.  Corliss drew his own inference from this,
+which was a pleasant one.  He felt that he had a friend at court, yet
+explained humorously that sheep and cattle were not by nature fitted to
+occupy the same territory.  He was alive to sentiment, but more keen
+than ever to maintain his position unalterably so far as business was
+concerned.  The Senora liked him none the less for this.  To her he was
+a man who stood straight, on both feet, and faced the sun.  Her
+daughter Nell . . .  Ah, the big Juan Corliss has such a fine way with
+him . . . what a husband for any woman!  In the mean time . . . only
+thoughts, hopes were possible . . . yet . . . manana . . . manana . . .
+there was always to-morrow that would be a brighter day.
+
+To say that Sundown was proud of his unaccustomed regalia from the
+crown of his lofty Stetson to the soles of his high-heeled
+riding-boots, would be putting it mildly.  To say that he was
+especially useful in his new calling as vaquero would not be to put it
+so mildly.  Under the more or less profane tutelage of his companions,
+he learned to throw a rope after a fashion, taking the laughing sallies
+of his comrades good-naturedly.  He persevered.  He was forever
+stealing upon some maternal and unsuspicious cow and launching his rope
+at her with a wild shout--possibly as an anticipatory expression of
+fear in case his rope should fall true.  More than once he had been
+yanked bodily from the saddle and had arisen to find himself minus
+rope, cow, and pony, for no self-respecting cow-horse could watch
+Sundown's unprecedented evolutions and not depart thitherward, feeling
+ashamed and grieved to think that he had ever lived to be a horse.  And
+Sundown, despite his length of limb, seemed unbreakable.  "He's the
+most durable rider on the range," remarked Hi Wingle, incident to one
+of his late assistant's meteoric departures from the saddle.  "He wears
+good."
+
+One morning as Sundown was jogging along, engaged chiefly in watching
+his shadow bob up and down across the wavering bunch-grass, he saw that
+which appeared to be the back of a cow just over a rise.  He walked his
+horse to the rise and for some fantastic reason decided to rope the
+cow.  He swung his rope.  It fell true--in fact, too true, for it
+encircled the animal's neck and looped tight just where the neck joins
+the shoulders.  He took a turn of the rope around the saddle horn.  At
+last he had mastered the knack of the thing!  Why, it was as easy as
+rolling pie-crust!  He was about to wonder what he was going to do
+next, when the cow--which happened to be a large and active
+steer--humped itself and departed for realms unknown.
+
+With the perversity of inanimate objects the rope flipped in a loop
+around Sundown's foot.  The horse bucked, just once, and Sundown was
+launched on a new and promising career.  The ground shot beneath him.
+He clutched wildly at the bunch-grass, secured some, and took it along
+with him.  Chance, who always accompanied Sundown, raced alongside,
+enjoying the novelty of the thing.  He barked and then shot ahead,
+nipping at the steer's heels, and this did not add to his master's
+prospects of ultimate survival.  Sundown shouted for help when he
+could, which was not often.  Startled prairie-dogs disappeared in their
+holes as the mad trio shot past.  The steer, becoming warmed up to his
+work, paid little attention to direction and much to speed.  That a
+band of sheep were grazing ahead made no difference to the charging
+steer.  He plunged into the band.  Sundown dimly saw a sea of sheep
+surge around him and break in storm-tossed waves of wool on either
+side.  He heard some one shout.  Then he fainted.
+
+When he again beheld the sun, a girl was kneeling beside him, a girl
+with dark, troubled eyes.  She offered him wine from a wicker jug.  He
+drank and felt better.
+
+"Are you hurt badly?" she asked.
+
+"Am--I--all here?" queried Sundown.
+
+"I guess so.  You seem to be."
+
+"Was anybody else killed in the wreck?"
+
+The girl smiled.  "You're feeling better.  Let me help you to sit up."
+
+Sundown for the moment felt disinclined to move.  He was in fact pretty
+thoroughly used up.  "Say, did he win?" he queried finally.
+
+"Who?"
+
+"Me dog, Chance.  I got the start at first, but he kind of got ahead
+for a spell."
+
+"I don't know.  Chance is right behind you.  He's out of breath."
+
+"Huh!  Reckon I'm out more'n that.  He's in luck this trip."
+
+"How did it happen?"
+
+"That's what I'm wonderin', lady.  And say, would you be so kind as to
+tell me which way is north?"
+
+Despite her solicitude for the recumbent Sundown, Eleanor Loring
+laughed.  "You are in one of the sheep-camps.  I'm Eleanor Loring."
+
+"Sheep-camp?  Gee Gosh!  Did you stop me?"
+
+"Yes.  I was just riding into camp when you--er--arrived.  I headed the
+steer back and Fernando cut the rope."
+
+"Thanks, miss.  And Fernando is wise to his business, all right."
+
+"Can you sit up now?" she asked.
+
+"Ow!  I guess I can.  That part of me wasn't expectin' to be moved
+sudden-like.  How'd I get under these trees?"
+
+"Fernando carried you."
+
+"Well, little old Fernando is some carrier.  Where is he?  I wouldn't
+mind shakin' hands with that gent."
+
+"He's out after the sheep.  The steer stampeded them."
+
+"Well, miss, speakin' from me heart--that there steer was no lady.  I
+thought she was till I roped him.  I was mistook serious."
+
+"He might have killed you.  Let me help you up."
+
+Sundown had been endeavoring to get to his feet.  Finally he rose and
+leaned against a tree.  Fortunately for him his course had been over a
+stretch of yielding bunch-grass, and not, as might have been the case,
+over the ragged tufa.  As it was his shirt hung from his back in
+shreds, and he felt that his overalls were not all that their name
+implied.  The numbness of his abrasions and bruises was wearing off.
+The pain quickened his senses.  He realized that his hat was missing,
+that one spur was gone and the other was half-way up his leg.  He was
+not pleased with his appearance, and determined to "make a slope" as
+gracefully and as quickly as circumstances would permit.
+
+Chance, gnawing at a burr that had stuck between his toes, saw his
+master rise.  He leaped toward Sundown and stood waiting for more fun.
+
+"Chance seems all right now," said the girl, patting the dog's head.
+
+"John Corliss give him to me, miss.  He's my dog now.  Yes, he's active
+all right, 'specially chasin' steers."
+
+"I remember you.  You're the man that carried Chance up the canon trail
+that day when he was hurt."
+
+"Yes, miss.  He ain't forgettin' either."
+
+The girl studied Sundown's lean face as he gazed across the mesas,
+wondering how he was going to make his exit without calling undue
+attention to his dearth of raiment.  She had heard that this man, this
+queer, ungainly outlander, had been companion to Will Corliss.  She had
+also heard that Sundown had been injured when the robbery occurred.
+Pensively she drew her empty gauntlet through her fingers.
+
+"Do you know who took the money--that night?" she asked suddenly, and
+Sundown straightened and gazed at her.
+
+He blinked and coughed.  "Bein' no hand to lie to a lady, I do," he
+said, simply.  "But I can't tell, even if you did save me life from
+that there steer."
+
+She bit her lips, and nodded.  "I didn't really mean to ask.  I was
+curious to know.  Won't you take my horse?  You can send him back
+to-morrow."
+
+"And you beat it home afoot?  Say, lady, I mebby been a Bo onct, but I
+ain't hurt that bad.  If I can't find me trail back to where I started
+from, it won't be because it ain't there.  Thanks, jest the same."
+
+Sundown essayed a step, halted and groaned.  He felt of himself
+gingerly.  He did not seem to be injured in any special place, as he
+ached equally all over.  "I'll be goin', lady.  I say thanks for savin'
+me life."
+
+The girl smiled and nodded.  "Will you please tell Mr. Corliss that I
+should like to see him, to-morrow, at Fernando's camp?  I think he'll
+understand."
+
+"Sure, miss!  I'll tell him.  That Fernando man looks to be havin' some
+trouble with them sheep."
+
+The girl glanced toward the mesa.  Fernando and his assistant were
+herding the sheep closer, and despite their activity were really
+getting the frightened animals bunched well.  When she turned again
+Sundown had disappeared.
+
+
+Sundown's arrival in camp, on foot, was not altogether unexpected.  One
+of the men had seen a riderless horse grazing on the mesa, and had
+ridden out and caught it.  Circumstantial evidence--rider and rope
+missing--confirmed Hi Wingle's remark that "that there walkin'
+clothes-pin has probably roped somethin' at last."  And the "walking
+clothes-pin's" condition when he appeared seemed to substantiate the
+cook's theory.
+
+"Lose your rope?" queried Wingle as Sundown limped up.
+
+"Uhuh.  And that ain't all.  You ain't got a pair of pants that ain't
+working have you?"
+
+Wingle smiled.  "Pants?  Think this here's a Jew clothin'-store?"
+
+"Nope.  But if she was a horsepital now--"
+
+"Been visitin'?"
+
+"Uhuh.  I jest run over to see some friends of mine in a sheep-camp."
+
+"Did, eh?  And mebby you can tell me what you run over?"
+
+"'Most everything out there," said Sundown, pointing to the mesa.
+"Say, you ain't got any of that plaster like they put on a guy's head
+when he gets hit with a brick?"
+
+"Nope.  But I got salt."
+
+"And pepper," concluded Sundown with some sarcasm.  "Mebby I do look
+like a barbecue."
+
+"Straight, Sun, salt and water is mighty healin'.  You better ride over
+to the Concho and get fixed up."
+
+"Reckon that ain't no dream, Hi.  Got to see the boss, anyhow."
+
+"Well, 'anyhow' is correc'.  And, say, you want to see him first and
+tell him it's you.  Your hoss is tied over there.  Sinker fetched him
+in."
+
+"Hoss?  Oh, yes, hoss!  My hoss!  Uhuh!"
+
+With this somewhat ambiguous string of ejaculations Sundown limped
+toward the pony.  He turned when halfway there and called to Wingle.
+"The cattle business is fine, Hi, fine, but between you and me I reckon
+I'll invest in sheep.  A fella is like to live longer."
+
+Wingle stared gravely at the tall and tattered figure.  He stared
+gravely, but inwardly he shook with laughter.  "Say, Sun!" he managed
+to exclaim finally, "that there Nell Loring is a right fine gal, ain't
+she?"
+
+"You bet!"
+
+"And Jack ain't the worst . . ."  Wingle spat and chewed ruminatively.
+"No, he ain't the worst," he asserted again.
+
+"I dunno what that's got to do with gettin' drug sixteen mile," said
+Sundown.  "But, anyhow, you're right."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+ON THE TRAIL TO THE BLUE
+
+In the shade of the forest that edged the mesa, and just back of
+Fernando's camp, a Ranger trail cuts through a patch of quaking-asp and
+meanders through the heavy-timbered land toward the Blue range, a
+spruce-clad ridge of southern hills.  Close to the trail two saddle
+horses were tied.
+
+Fadeaway, riding toward his home ranch on the "Blue," reined up, eyed
+the horses, and grinned.  One of them was Chinook, the other Eleanor
+Loring's black-and-white pinto, Challenge.  The cowboy bent in his
+saddle and peered through the aspens toward the sheep-camp.  He saw
+Corliss and Nell Loring standing close together, evidently discussing
+something of more than usual import, for at that moment John Corliss
+had raised his broad Stetson as though bidding farewell to the girl,
+but she had caught his arm as he turned and was clinging to him.  Her
+attitude was that of one supplicating, coaxing, imploring.  Fadeaway,
+with a vicious twist to his mouth, spat.  "The cattle business and the
+sheep business looks like they was goin' into partnership," he
+muttered.  "Leave it to a woman to fool a man every time.  And him
+pertendin' to be all for the long-horns!"  He saw the girl turn from
+Corliss, bury her face in her arms, and lean against the tree beneath
+which they were standing.  Fadeaway grinned.  "Women are all crooked,
+when they want to be," he remarked,--"or any I ever knowed.  If they
+can't work a guy by talkin' and lovin', then they take to cryin'."
+
+Just then Corliss stepped to the girl and put his hand on her shoulder.
+Again she turned to him.  He took her hands and held them while he
+talked.  Fadeaway could see her lips move, evidently in reply.  He
+could not hear what was being said, as his horse was restless, fretting
+and stamping.  The saddle creaked.  Fadeaway jerked the horse up, and
+in the momentary silence he caught the word "love."
+
+"Makes me sick!" he said, spurring forward.  "'Love,' eh?  Well, mebby
+my little idea of puttin' Billy Corliss in wrong didn't work, but I'll
+hand Jack a jolt that'll make him think of somethin' else besides love,
+one of these fine mornin's!"  And the cowboy rode on, out of tune with
+the peace and beauty of his surroundings, his whole being centered upon
+making trouble for a man who he knew in his heart wished him no ill,
+and in fact had all but forgotten him so far as considering him either
+as an enemy or a friend.
+
+Just as he was about to swing out to the open of the mesa near the edge
+of the canon, he came upon a Mexican boy asleep beneath the low
+branches of a spruce.  Fadeaway glanced across the mesa and, as he had
+expected, saw a band of sheep grazing in the sunshine.  His trail ran
+directly toward the sheep.  Beyond lay the canon.  He would not ride
+around a herd of sheep that blocked his trail, not if he knew it!  As
+he drew nearer the sheep they bunched, forcing those ahead to move on.
+Fadeaway glanced back at the sleeping boy, then set spur to his horse
+and waved his sombrero.  The sheep broke into a trot.  He rode back and
+forth behind them forcing them toward the canon.  He beat upon his
+rolled slicker with his quirt.  The sound frenzied the sheep and they
+leaped forward.  Lambs, trailing behind, called dolefully to the
+plunging ewes that trampled each other in their terror.  Again the
+cowboy glanced back.  No one was in sight.  He wondered, for an
+instant, what had become of Fernando, for he knew it was Fernando's
+herd.  He shortened rein and spurred his pony, making him rear.  The
+sheep plunged ahead, those in front swerving as they came to the
+canon's brink.  The crowding mass behind forced them on.  Fadeaway
+reined up.  A great gray wave rolled over the cliff and disappeared
+into the soundless chasm.  A thousand feet below lay the mangled
+carcasses of some five hundred sheep and lambs.  A scattered few of the
+band had turned and were trotting aimlessly along the edge of the mesa.
+They separated as the rider swept up.  One terror-stricken lamb,
+bleating piteously, hesitated on the very edge of the chasm.  Fadeaway
+swung his hat and laughed as the little creature reared and leaped out
+into space.  There had been but little noise--an occasional frightened
+bleat, a drumming of hoofs on the mesa, and they were swept from sight.
+
+Fadeaway reined around and took a direct line for the nearest timber.
+Halfway across the open he saw the Mexican boy running toward him.  He
+leaned forward in the saddle and hung his spurs in his pony's sides.  A
+quick beat of hoofs and he was within the shadow of the forest.  The
+next thing was to avoid pursuit.  He changed his course and rode toward
+the heart of the forest.  He would take an old and untraveled
+bridle-trail to the Blue.  He was riding in a rocky hollow when he
+thought he heard the creak of saddle-leather.  He glanced back.  No one
+was following him.  Farther on he stopped.  He was certain that he had
+again heard the sound.  As he topped the rise he saw Corliss riding
+toward him.  The rancher had evidently swung from the Concho trail and
+was making his way directly toward the unused trail which Fadeaway
+rode.  The cowboy became doubly alert.  He shifted a little in the
+saddle, sitting straight, his right hand resting easily on his hip.
+Corliss drew rein and they faced each other.  There was something about
+the rancher's grim, silent attitude that warned Fadeaway.
+
+Yet he grinned and waved a greeting.  "How!" he said, as though he were
+meeting an old friend.
+
+Corliss nodded briefly.  He sat gazing at Fadeaway with an unreadable
+expression.
+
+"Got the lock-jaw?" queried Fadeaway, his pretended heartiness
+vanishing.
+
+Corliss allowed himself to smile, a very little.  "You better ride back
+with me," he said, quietly.
+
+Fadeaway laughed.  "I'm takin' orders from the Blue, these days," he
+said.  "Mebby you forgot."
+
+"No, I haven't."
+
+"And I'm headed for the Blue," continued the cowboy.  "Goin' my way?"
+
+"You're on the wrong trail," asserted Corliss.  "You've been riding the
+wrong trail ever since you left the Concho."
+
+"Uhuh.  Well, I been keepin' clear of the sheep camps, at that."
+
+"Don't know about that," said Corliss, easily.
+
+Fadeaway was too shrewd to have recourse to his gun.  He knew that
+Corliss was the quicker man, and he realized that, even should he get
+the better of a six-gun argument, the ultimate result would be outlawry
+and perhaps death.  He wanted to get away from that steady,
+heart-searching gaze that held him.
+
+"Sheep business is lookin' up," he said, with an attempt at jocularity.
+
+"We'll ride back and have a talk with Loring," said Corliss.  "Some one
+put a band of his sheep into the canon, not two hours ago.  Maybe you
+know something about it."
+
+"Me?  What you dreaming anyhow?"
+
+"I'm not.  It looks like your work."
+
+"So you're tryin' to hang somethin' onto me, eh?  Well, you want to
+call around early--you're late."
+
+"No, I'm the first one on the job.  Did you stampede Loring's sheep?"
+
+"Did I stampede the love-makin'?" sneered Fadeaway.
+
+Corliss shortened rein and drew close to the cowboy.
+
+"Just explain that," he said.
+
+"Oh, I don' know.  You the boss of creation?"
+
+Corliss's lips hardened.  He let his quirt slip butt-first through his
+hand and grasped the lash.  Fadeaway's hand slipped to his holster.
+Before he could pull his gun, Corliss swung the quirt.  The blow caught
+Fadeaway just below the brim of his hat.  He wavered and grabbed at the
+saddle-horn.  As Corliss again swung his quirt, the cowboy jerked out
+his gun and brought it down on the rancher's head.  Corliss dropped
+from the saddle.  Fadeaway rode around and covered him.  Corliss's hat
+lay a few feet from where he had fallen.  Beneath his head a dark ooze
+spread a hand's-breadth on the trail.  The cowboy dismounted and bent
+over him.  "He's sportin' a dam' good hat," he said, "or that would 'a'
+fixed _him_.  Guess he'll be good for a spell."  Then he reached for
+his stirrup, mounted, and loped up the trail.
+
+
+Old Fernando, having excused himself on some pretext when Corliss rode
+into the camp that morning, returned to find Corliss gone and Nell
+Loring strangely grave and white.  She nodded as he spoke to her and
+pointed toward the mesa.  "Carlos--is out--looking for the sheep," she
+said, her lips trembling.  "He says some one stampeded them--run them
+into the canon."
+
+Fernando called upon his saints and cursed himself for his negligence
+in leaving his son with the sheep.  Nell Loring spoke to him quietly,
+assuring him that she understood why he had absented himself.  "It's my
+fault, Fernando, not yours.  The patron will want to know why you were
+away.  You will tell him that John Corliss came to your camp; that you
+thought I wanted to talk with him alone.  Then he will know that it was
+my fault.  I'll tell him when I get back to the rancho."
+
+Fernando straightened his wizened frame.  "Si!  As the Senorita says, I
+shall do.  But first I go to look.  Perhaps the patron shall not know
+that the vaquero Corlees was here this morning.  It is that I ask the
+Senorita to say nothing to the patron until I look.  Is it that you
+will do this?"
+
+"What can you do?" she asked.
+
+"It is yet to know.  Adios, Senorita.  You will remember the old
+Fernando, perhaps?"
+
+"But you're coming back!  Oh! it was terrible!" she cried.  "I rode to
+the canon and looked down."
+
+Fernando meanwhile had been thinking rapidly.  With quaint dignity he
+excused himself as he departed to catch up one of the burros, which he
+saddled and rode out to where his son was standing near the canon.  The
+boy shrank from him as he accosted him.  Fernando's deep-set eyes
+blazed forth the anger that his lips imprisoned.  He sent the boy back
+to the camp.  Then he picked up the tracks of a horseman on the mesa,
+followed them to the canon's brink, glanced down, shrugged his
+shoulders, and again took up the horseman's trail toward the forest.
+With the true instinct of the outlander, he reasoned that the horseman
+had headed for the old trail to the Blue, as the tracks led diagonally
+toward the south.  Finally he realized that he could never overtake the
+rider by following the tracks, so he dismounted and tied his burro.  He
+struck toward the canon.  A mile above him there was a ford.  He would
+wait there and see who came.  He made his perilous way down a notch in
+the cliff, dropped slowly to the level of the stream, and followed it
+to the ford.  He searched for tracks in the sun-baked mud.  With a sigh
+of satisfaction, perhaps of anticipation, he stepped to a clump of
+cottonwoods down the stream and backed within them.  Scarcely had he
+crossed himself and drawn his gun from its weather-blackened holster,
+when he heard the click of shod hoofs on the trail.  He stiffened and
+his eyes gleamed as though he anticipated some pleasant prospect.  The
+creases at the corners of his eyes deepened as he recognized in the
+rider the vaquero who had set the Concho dog upon his sheep some months
+before.  He had a score to settle with that vaquero for having shot at
+him.  He had another and larger score to settle with him for--no, he
+would not think of his beloved sheep mangled and dead at the bottom of
+the canon.  That would anger him and make his hand unsteady.
+
+Fadeaway rode his horse into the ford and sat looking downstream as the
+horse drank.  Just as he drew rein, the old herder imitated with
+perfect intonation the quavering bleat of a lamb calling to its mother.
+Fadeaway jerked straight in the saddle.  A ball of smoke puffed from
+the cottonwoods.  The cowboy doubled up and slid headforemost into the
+stream.  The horse, startled by the lunge of its rider, leaped to the
+bank and raced up the trail.  A diminishing echo ran along the canon
+walls and rolled away to distant, faint muttering.  Old Fernando had
+paid his debt of vengeance.
+
+Leisurely he broke a twig from the cottonwoods, tore a strip from his
+bandanna, and cleaned his gun.  Then he retraced his steps to the
+burro, mounted, and rode directly to his camp.  After he had eaten he
+told his son to pack their few belongings.  Then he again mounted the
+burro and rode toward the hacienda to face the fury of the patron.
+
+He had for a moment left the flock in charge of his son.  He had
+returned to find all but a few of the sheep gone.  He had tracked them
+to the canon brink.  Ah! could the patron have seen them, lying mangled
+upon the rocks!  It had been a long hard climb to the bottom of the
+canon, else he should have reported sooner.  Some one had driven the
+sheep into the chasm.  As to the man who did it, he knew nothing.
+There were tracks of a horse--that was all.  He had come to report and
+receive his dismissal.  Never again should he see the Senora Loring.
+He had been the patron's faithful servant for many years.  He was
+disgraced, and would be dismissed for negligence.
+
+So he soliloquized as he rode, yet he was not altogether unhappy.  He
+had avenged insult and the killing of his beloved sheep with one little
+crook of his finger; a thing that his patron, brave as he was, would
+not dare do.  He would return to New Mexico.  It was well!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+THEY KILLED THE BOSS!
+
+Sundown, much to his dismay, was lost.  With a sack of salt tied across
+his saddle, he had ridden out that morning to fill one of the salt-logs
+near a spring where the cattle came to drink.  He had found the log,
+filled it, and had turned to retrace his journey when a flock of wild
+turkeys strung out across his course.  His horse, from which the riders
+of the Concho had aforetime shot turkeys, broke into a kind of
+reminiscent lope, which quickened as the turkeys wheeled and ran
+swiftly through the timberland.  Sundown clung to the saddle-horn as
+the pony took fallen logs at top speed.  The turkeys made for a rim of
+a narrow canon and from it sailed off into space, leaving Chance a
+disconsolate spectator and Sundown sitting his horse and thanking the
+Arizona stars that his steed was not equipped with wings.  It was then
+that he realized that the Concho ranch might be in any one of the four
+directions he chose to take.  He wheeled the horse, slackened rein, and
+allowed that sagacious but apparently disinterested animal to pick its
+leisurely way through the forest.  Chance trotted sullenly behind.  He
+could have told his master something about hunting turkeys had he been
+able to speak, and, judging from the dog's dejected stride and
+expression, speech would have been a relief to his feelings.
+
+The horse, nipping at scant shoots of bunch-grass and the blue-flowered
+patches of wild peas, gravitated toward the old trail to the Blue and,
+once upon it, turned toward home.  Chance, refreshing his memory of the
+old trail, ran ahead, pausing at this fallen log and that
+fungus-spotted stump to investigate squirrel-holes with much sniffing
+and circling of the immediate territory.  Sundown imagined that Chance
+was leading the way toward home, though in reality the dog was merely
+killing time, so to speak, while the pony plodded deliberately down the
+homeward trail.
+
+Dawdling along in the barred sunshine, at peace with himself and the
+pleasant solitudes, Sundown relaxed and fell to dreaming of Andalusian
+castles builded in far forests of the south, and of some Spanish
+Penelope--possibly not unlike the Senorita Loring--who waited his
+coming with patient tears and rare fidelity.  "Them there
+true-be-doors," he muttered, "like Billy used to say, sure had the glad
+job--singin' and wrastlin' out po'try galore!  A singin'-man sure gets
+the ladies.  Now if I was to take on a little weight--mebby . . ."  His
+weird soliloquy was broken by a sharp and excited bark.  Chance was
+standing in the trail, and beyond him there was something . . .
+
+Sundown, anticipating more turkeys, slid from his horse without delay.
+He stalked stealthily toward the quivering dog.  Then, dropping the
+reins, he ran to Corliss, knelt beside him, and lifted his head.  He
+called to him.  He ripped the rancher's shirt open and felt over his
+heart.  "They killed me boss!  They killed me boss!" he wailed, rising
+and striding back and forth in impotent excitement and grief.  He did
+not know where to look for water.  He did not know what to do.  A
+sudden fury at his helplessness overcame him, and he mounted and rode
+down the trail at a wild gallop.  Fortunately he was headed in the
+right direction.
+
+Wingle, Bud Shoop, and several of the men were holding a heated
+conference with old man Loring when Sundown dashed into the Concho.
+Trembling with rage and fear he leaped from his horse.
+
+"They killed the boss!" he cried hoarsely.  "Up there--in the woods."
+
+"Killed who?  Where?  Slow down and talk easy!  Who's killed?" volleyed
+the group.
+
+"Me boss!  Up there on the trail with his head bashed in!  Chance and
+me found him layin' on the trail."
+
+The men swung to their saddles.  "Better come along, Loring," said
+Shoop, riding close to the old sheep-man.  "Looks like they was more 'n
+one side to this deal.  And you, too, Sun."
+
+The riders, led by the gesticulating and excited Sundown, swung out to
+the road and crossed to the forest.  Shoop and Hi Wingle spurred ahead
+while the others questioned Sundown, following easily.  When they
+arrived at the scene of the fight, Corliss was sitting propped against
+a tree with Shoop and Wangle on either side of him.  Corliss stared
+stupidly at the men.
+
+"Who done it?" asked Wingle.
+
+"Fadeaway," murmured the rancher.
+
+Loring, in the rear of the group, laughed ironically.
+
+Shoop's gun jumped from its holster and covered the sheep-man.  "If one
+of your lousy herders done this, he'll graze clost to hell to-night
+with the rest of your dam' sheep!" he cried.
+
+"Easy, Bud!" cautioned Wingle.  "The boss ain't passed over yet.  Bill,
+you help Sinker here get the boss back home.  The rest of you boys hit
+the trail for the Blue.  Fadeaway is like to be up in that country."
+
+"Ante up, Loring!" said Shoop, mounting his horse.  "I'll see your hand
+if it takes every chip in the stack."
+
+"Here, too!" chorused the riders.  "We're all in on this."
+
+They trailed along in single file until they came to the ford.  They
+reined up sharply.  One of them dismounted and dragged the body of
+Fadeaway to the bank.  They grouped around gazing at the hole in
+Fadeaway's shirt.
+
+Shoop turned the body over.  "Got it from in front," he said, which was
+obvious to their experienced eyes.
+
+"And it took a fast gun to get him," asserted Loring.
+
+The men were silent, each visualizing his own theory of the fight on
+the trail and the killing of Fadeaway.
+
+"Jack was layin' a long way from here," said Wingle.
+
+"When you found him," commented Loring.
+
+"Only one hoss crossed the ford this morning," announced Shoop, wading
+across the stream.
+
+"And Fade got it from in front," commented a puncher.  "His tracks is
+headed for the Blue."
+
+Again the men were silent.  Shoop rolled a cigarette.  The splutter of
+the sulphur-match, as it burned from blue to yellow, startled them.
+They relaxed, cursing off their nervous tension in monosyllables.
+
+"Well, Fade's played his stack, and lost.  Jack was sure in the game,
+but how far--I dunno.  Reckon that's got anything to do with stampedin'
+your sheep?" asked Wingle, turning to Loring.
+
+Loring's deep-set eyes flashed.  "Fernando reported that a Concho rider
+done the job.  He didn't say who done it."
+
+"Didn't, eh?  And did Fernando say anything about doin' a job himself?"
+asked Shoop.
+
+"If you're tryin' to hang this onto any of my herders, you're ridin' on
+the wrong side of the river.  I reckon you won't have to look far for
+the gun that got _him_."  And Loring gestured toward the body.
+
+Hi Wingle stooped and pulled Fadeaway's gun from its holster.  He spun
+the cylinder, swung it out, and invited general inspection.  "Fade
+never had a chance," he said, lowering the gun.  "They's six pills in
+her yet.  You got to show me he wasn't plugged from behind a rock or
+them bushes."  And Wingle pointed toward the cottonwoods.
+
+One of the men rode down the canon, searching for tracks.  Chance,
+following, circled the bushes, and suddenly set off toward the north.
+
+Sundown, who had been watching him, dismounted his horse.  "Chance,
+there, mebby he's found somethin'."
+
+"Well, he's your dog.  Go ahead if you like.  Mebby Chance struck a
+scent."
+
+"Coyote or lion," said Wingle.  "They ain't no trail down them rocks."
+
+Sundown, following Chance, disappeared in the canon.  The men covered
+Fadeaway's body with a slicker and weighted it with stones.  Then they
+sent a puncher to Antelope to notify the sheriff.
+
+
+As they rode into the Concho, they saw that Corliss's horse was in the
+corral.  Their first anger had cooled, yet they gazed sullenly at
+Loring.  They were dissatisfied with his interpretation of the killing
+and not a little puzzled.
+
+"Where's Fernando?" queried Shoop aggressively.
+
+Loring put the question aside with a wave of his hand.  "Jest a minute
+afore I go.  You're tryin' to hang this onto me or mine.  You're wrong.
+You're forgettin' they's five hundred of my sheep at the bottom of the
+Concho Canon, I guess.  They didn't get there by themselves.
+Fadeaway's got his, which was comin' to him this long time.  That's
+nothin' to me.  What I want to see is Jack Corliss's gun."
+
+Bud Shoop stepped into the ranch-house and presently returned with the
+Coitus.  "Here she is.  Take a look."
+
+The old sheep-man swung out the cylinder and pointed with a gnarled and
+horny finger.  The men closed in and gazed in silence.  One of the
+shells was empty.
+
+Loring handed the gun to Shoop.  "I'll ask Jack," said the foreman.
+When he returned to the group he was unusually grave.  "Says he plugged
+a coyote this mornin'."
+
+Loring's seamed and weathered face was expressionless.  "Well, he did a
+good job, if I do say it," he remarked, as though to himself.
+
+"Which?" queried Shoop.
+
+"I don't say," replied Loring.  "I'm lettin' the evidence do the
+talkin'."
+
+"Well, you'll hear her holler before we get through!" asserted the
+irrepressible Bud.  "Fade, mebby, wa'n't no lady's man, but he had
+sand.  He was a puncher from the ground up, and we ain't forgettin'
+that!"
+
+"And I ain't forgettin' them five hundred sheep."  Loring reined
+around.  "And you're goin' to hear from me right soon.  I reckon they's
+law in this country."
+
+"Let her come!" retorted Shoop.  "We'll all be here!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+SUNDOWN ADVENTURES
+
+By dint of perilous scrambling Sundown managed to keep within sight of
+Chance, who had picked up Fernando's tracks leading from the
+cottonwoods.  The dog leaped over rocks and trotted along the levels,
+sniffing until he came to the rift in the canon wall down which the
+herder had toiled on his grewsome errand.  Chance climbed the sharp
+ascent with clawing reaches of his powerful forelegs and quick thrusts
+of his muscular haunches.  Sundown followed as best he could.  He was
+keyed to the strenuous task by that spurious by-product of anticipation
+frequently termed a "hunch."
+
+When the dog at last reached the edge of the timber and dashed into
+Fernando's deserted camp, Sundown was puzzled until he happened to
+recall the incidents leading to Fadeaway's discharge from the Concho.
+He reclined beneath a tree familiar to him as a former basis for
+recuperation.  He felt of himself reminiscently while watching Chance
+nose about the camp.  Presently the dog came and, squatting on his
+haunches, faced his master with the query, "What next?" scintillating
+in his glowing eyes.
+
+"I dunno," replied Sundown.  "You see, pardner, this here's Fernando's
+camp all right.  Now, I ain't got nothin' ag'in' that little ole
+Fernando man, 'specially as it was him cut the rope that was snakin' me
+to glory onct.  I ain't got nothin' ag'in' him, or nobody.  Mebby Fade
+did set after them sheep.  Mebby Fernando knows it and sets after him.
+Mebby he squats in them cotton-woods by the ford and 'Pom!' goes
+somethin' and pore Fadeaway sure makes his name good.  Never did like
+him, but I ain't got nothin' ag'in' him now.  You see, Chance, he's
+quit bein' mean, now.  And say, gettin' killed ain't no dream.  I been
+there three, four times myself--all but the singin'.  Two wrecks, one
+shootin', and one can o' beans that was sick.  It sure ain't no fun.
+Wonder if gettin' killed that way will square Fade with the Big Boss
+over there?  I reckon not.  'T ain't what a fella gets done to him that
+counts.  It's what he does to the other guy, good or bad.  Now, take
+them martyrs what my pal Billy used to talk about.  They was always
+standin' 'round gettin' burned and punctured with arrers, and
+lengthened out and shortened up when they ought to been takin' boxin'
+lessons or sords or somethin'.  Huh!  I never took much stock in them.
+If it's what a fella gets _done_ to him, it's easy money I'll be takin'
+tickets at the gate instead of crawlin' under the canvas--and mebby
+tryin' to sneak you in, too--eh, Chance?"
+
+To all of which the great wolf-dog listened with exemplary patience.
+He would have preferred action, but not unlike many human beings who
+strive to appear profound under a broadside of philosophical eloquence,
+applauding each bursting shrapnel of platitudes by mentally wagging
+their tails, Chance wagged his tail, impressed more by the detonation
+than the substance.  And Chance was quite a superior dog, as dogs go.
+
+When Sundown finally arrived at the Concho, he was met by Bud Shoop,
+who questioned him.  Sundown gave a detailed account of his recent
+exploration.
+
+"You say they was no burros at the camp--no tarp, or grub, or nothin'?"
+
+"Nope.  Nothin' but a dead fire," replied Sundown.
+
+"Any sheep?"
+
+"Mebby four or five.  Didn't count 'em."
+
+"Huh!  Wonder where the rest of the greaser's herd is grazin'?"
+
+"I dunno.  I rode straight acrost to here."
+
+"Looks mighty queer to me," commented the foreman.  "I take it that
+Fernando's lit out."
+
+"Will they pinch the boss?" queried Sundown.
+
+"I don' know.  Anyhow, they can't prove it on him.  Even if Jack
+did--and I don't mind sayin' it to you--plug Fade, he did it to keep
+from gettin' plugged hisself.  Do you reckon I'd let any fella
+chloroform me with the butt of a .45 and not turn loose?  I tell you,
+if Jack had been a-goin' to get Fade _right_, you'd 'a' found 'em
+closter together.  And that ain't all.  If Jack had wanted to get Fade,
+you can bet he wouldn't got walloped on the head first.  The gun that
+got Fade weren't packed by a puncher."
+
+"Will they be any more shootin'?" queried Sundown.
+
+"Gettin' cold feet, Sun?"
+
+"Nope.  But say, it ain't no fun to get shot up.  It don't feel good
+and it's like to make a guy cross.  A guy can't make pie or eat pie all
+shot up, nohow."
+
+"Pie?  You sure are loco.  What you tryin' to rope now?"
+
+"Nothin'.  But onct I was in the repair shop with two docs explorin' me
+works with them there shiny little corkscrews, lookin' for a bullit
+that Clammie-the-dip let into me system--me bein' mistook for another
+friend of his by mistake.  After the docs dug up the bullit they says,
+'Anything you want to say?'--expectin' me to pass over, I reckon.
+'There is,' says I.  'I want to say that I ain't et nothin' sense the
+day before Clammie done me dirt.  An' if I'm goin' to hit the slide I
+jest as soon hit it full of pie as empty.'  And them docs commenced to
+laugh.  'Let him have it,' says one.  'But don't you reckon ice-cream
+would be less apt to--er--hasten--the--er--' jest like that.  'Pussuble
+you're correct' says the other.'"  Sundown scratched his ear.  "And I
+et the ice-cream, feelin' kind o' sad-like seein' it wasn't pie.  You
+see, Bud, gettin' shot up is kind of disconvenient."
+
+"Well, you're the limit!" exclaimed Shoop.  "Say, the boss wants to
+make a few talks to you to-morrow.  Told me to tell you when you come
+back.  You better go feed up.  As I recollec' Hi's wrastlin' out some
+pie-dough right now."
+
+"Well, I ain't takin' no chances, Bud."
+
+"You tell that to Hi and see what he says."
+
+"Nope.  'T ain't necessary.  You see when them docs seen, about a week
+after, that I was comin' strong instead of goin', they says, 'Me man,
+if you'd 'a' had pie in your stummick when you was shot, you wouldn't
+be here to-day.  You'd be planted--or somethin' similar.  The fac' that
+your stummick was empty evidentially saved your life.'  And," concluded
+Sundown, "they's no use temptin' Providence now."
+
+
+Shortly after breakfast next morning Corliss sent for Sundown.  The
+rancher sat propped up in a wide armchair.  He was pale, but his eyes
+were clear and steady.
+
+"Bud told me about yesterday," he began, anticipating Sundown's
+leisurely and erratic recital.  "I understand you found me on the trail
+and went for help."
+
+"Yes.  I thought you was needin' some about then."
+
+"How did you come to find me?"
+
+"Got lost.  Hoss he took me there."
+
+"Did you see any one on the trail?"
+
+"Nope."
+
+"Hear any shooting?"
+
+"Nope.  But I seen some turkeys."
+
+"Well, I expect the sheriff will be here tomorrow.  He'll want to talk
+to you.  Answer him straight.  Don't try to help me in any way.  Just
+tell him what you know--not what you think."
+
+"I sure will, boss.  Wish Chance could talk.  He could tell."
+
+Corliss smiled faintly.  "Yes, I suppose he could.  You followed him to
+Fernando's camp?"
+
+"Uhuh."
+
+"All right.  Now, I've had a talk with Bud about something that has
+been bothering me.  I think I can trust you.  I want you to ride to
+Antelope to-morrow morning and give a letter from me to the lawyer
+there, Kennedy.  He'll tell you what to do after that.  I don't feel
+like talking much, but I'll say this: You remember the water-hole
+ranch.  Well, I want you to file application to homestead it.  Kennedy
+will tell you what to do.  Don't ask any questions, but do as he says.
+You'll have to go to Usher by train and he'll go with you.  You won't
+lose anything by it."
+
+"Me?  Homestead?  Huh!  And have cows and pigs and things?  I don't
+jest get you, boss, but what you say goes.  Why, I'd homestead a ranch
+in hell and take chances on findin' water if you said it.  Say,
+boss,"--and Sundown leaned toward Corliss confidentially and lowered
+his voice,--"I ain't what you'd call a nervy man, but say, I got
+somethin' jest as good.  I--I--" and Sundown staggered around feeling
+for the word he wanted.
+
+"I know.  We'll look it up in the dictionary some day when we're in
+town.  Here's ten dollars for your trip.  If you need more, Kennedy
+will give it to you."
+
+Sundown departed, thrilled with the thought that his employer had
+placed so much confidence in him.  He wanted to write a poem, but
+circumstances forbade his signaling to his muse.  On his way to the
+bunk-house he hesitated and retraced his steps to the ranch office.
+Corliss told him to come in.  He approached his employer deferentially
+as though about to ask a favor.
+
+"Say, boss," he began, "they's two things just hit me to onct.  Can I
+take Chance with me?"
+
+"If you like.  Part of your trip will be on the train."
+
+"I can fix that.  Then I was thinkin': No! my hoss is lame.  I got to
+ride a strange hoss, which I'm gettin' kind o' used to.  But if you'll
+keep your eye on my hoss while I'm gone, it'll ease me mind
+considerable.  You see he's been with me reg'lar and ain't learned no
+bad tricks.  If the boys know I'm gone and get to learnin' him about
+buckin' and bitin' the arm offen a guy and kickin' a guy's head off and
+rollin' on him, and rarin' up and stompin' him, like some, they's no
+tellin' what might happen when I get back."
+
+Corliss laughed outright.  "That's so.  But I guess the boys will be
+busy enough without monkeying with your cayuse.  If you put that
+homestead deal through, you can have any horse on the range except
+Chinook.  You'll need a team, anyway, when you go to ranching."
+
+"Thanks, boss, but I'm gettin' kind of used to Pill."
+
+"Pill?  You mean Phil--Phil Sheridan.  That's your horse's name."
+
+"Mebby.  I did try callin' him 'Phil.'  It went all right when he was
+standin' quiet.  But when he got to goin' I was lucky if I could holler
+just 'Whoa, Pill!'  The 'h' got jarred loose every time.  'Course,
+bein' a puncher now,"--and Sundown threw out his chest,--"it's
+different.  Anyhow, Pill is his name because there ain't anything a doc
+ever give a fella that can stir up your insides worse 'n he can when he
+takes a spell.  Your head hurtin' much?"
+
+"No.  But it will be if you don't get out of here."  And Corliss
+laughed and waved his hand toward the door.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+THE STRANGER
+
+Sundown, maintaining a mysterious and unusual silence, prepared to
+carry out his employer's plans.  His preparations were not extensive.
+First, he polished his silver spurs.  Then he borrowed a coat from one
+of the boys, brushed his Stetson, and with the business instinct of a
+Hebrew offered Hi Wingle nine dollars for a pair of Texas wing chaps.
+The cook, whose active riding-days were over, had no use for the chaps
+and would have gladly given them to Sundown.  The latter's offer of
+nine dollars, however, interested Wingle.  He decided to have a bit of
+fun with the tall one.  He cared nothing for the money, but wondered
+why Sundown had offered nine dollars instead of ten.
+
+"What you been eatin'?" he queried as Sundown made his bid.  "Goin'
+courtin'?"
+
+"Nope," replied the lean one.  "Goin' east."
+
+"Huh!  Expect to ride all the way in them chaps?"
+
+"Nope!  But I need 'em.  Heard you tell Bud you paid ten dollars for
+'em 'way back fifteen years.  Guess they's a dollar's worth worn off of
+'em by now."
+
+"Well, you sure do some close figurin'.  I sure paid ten for 'em.  Got
+'em from a Chola puncher what was hard up.  Mebby you ain't figurin'
+that they's about twenty bucks' worth of hand-worked silver conchas on
+'em which ain't wore off any."
+
+Sundown took this as Wingle's final word.  The amused Hi noted the
+other's disappointment and determined to enhance the value of the chaps
+by making them difficult to obtain, then give them to his assistant.
+Wingle liked Sundown in a rough-shod way, though Sundown was a bit too
+serious-minded to appreciate the fact.
+
+The cook assumed the air of one gravely concerned about his friend's
+mental balance.  "Somethin' sure crawled into your roost, Sun, but if
+you're goin' crazy I suppose a pair of chaps won't make no difference
+either way.  Anyhow, you ain't crazy in your legs--just your head."
+
+"Thanks, Hi.  It's accommodatin' of you to put me wise to myself.  I
+know I ain't so durned smart as some."
+
+"Say, you old fool, can't you take a fall to it that I'm joshin'?  You
+sure are the melancholiest stretch of bones and hide I ever seen.
+Somehow you always make a fella come down to cases every time, with
+that sad-lookin' mug of yourn.  You sure would 'a' made a good
+undertaker.  I'll get them chaps."
+
+And Wingle, fat, bald, and deliberate, chuckled as he dug among his
+belongings and brought forth the coveted riding apparel.  "Them chaps
+has set on some good hosses, if I do say it," he remarked.  "Take 'em
+and keep your nine bucks for life insurance.  You'll need it."
+
+Sundown grinned like a boy.  "Nope.  A bargain's a bargain.  Here's the
+money.  Mebby you could buy a fust-class cook-book with it and learn
+somethin'."
+
+"Learn somethin'!  Why, you long-geared, double-jointed, glass-eyed,
+hay-topped, star-smellin' st-st-steeple, you!  Get out o' this afore I
+break my neck tryin' to see your face!  Set down so I can look you in
+the eye!"  And Wingle waved his stout arms and glowered in mock anger.
+
+Sundown laid the money on the table.  "Keep the change," he said mildly
+with a twinkle in his eye.
+
+He picked up the chaps and stalked from the bunk-house.  Chance, who
+had been an interested spectator of this lively exchange of compliment
+and merchandise, followed his master to the stable where Sundown at
+once put on the chaps and strutted for the dog's benefit, and his own.
+By degrees he was assuming the characteristics of a genuine
+cow-puncher.  He would show the folks in Antelope what a rider for the
+Concho looked like.
+
+The following morning, much earlier than necessary, he mounted and rode
+to the bunk-house, where Corliss gave him the letter and told him to
+leave the horse at the stables in Antelope until he returned from Usher.
+
+Sundown, stiffened by the importance of his mission, rode straight up,
+looking neither to the right nor to the left until the Concho was far
+behind him.  Then he slouched in the saddle, gazing with a pleased
+expression first at one leather-clad leg and then the other.  For a
+time the wide, free glory of the Arizona morning mesas was forgotten.
+The shadow of his pony walked beside him as the low eastern sun burned
+across the golden levels.  Long silhouettes of fantastic buttes spread
+across the plain.  The sky was cloudless and the crisp thin air
+foretold a hot noon.  The gaunt rider's face beamed with an inner
+light--the light of romance.  What more could a man ask than a good
+horse, a faithful and intelligent dog, a mission of trust, and sixty
+undisturbed miles of wondrous upland o'er which to journey, fancy-free
+and clad in cowboy garb?  Nothing more--except--and Sundown realized
+with a slight sensation of emptiness that he had forgotten to eat
+breakfast.  He had plenty to eat in his saddle-bags, but he put the
+temptation to refresh himself aside as unworthy, for the nonce, of his
+higher self.  Naturally the pent-up flood of verse that had been
+oppressing him of late surged up and filled his mind with vague and
+poignant fancies.  His love for animals, despite his headlong
+experiences on the Concho, was unimpaired, so to speak.  He patted the
+neck of the rangy roan which he bestrode, and settled himself to the
+serious task of expressing his inner-most being in verse.  He dipped
+deep into the Pierian springs, and poesy broke forth.  But not,
+however, until he had "cinched up," as he mentally termed it, the
+saddle of his Pegasus of the mesas.
+
+Sundown paused and called the attention of his horse to the last line.
+
+He hesitated, harking back for his climax.  "Jing!" he exclaimed, "it's
+the durndest thing to put a finish on a piece of po'try!  You get to
+goin' and she goes fine.  Then you commence to feel that you're comin'
+to the end and nacherally you asks yourself what's the end goin' to be
+like.  Fust thing you're stompin' around in your head upsettin' all
+that you writ tryin' to rope somethin' to put on the tail-end of the
+parade that'll show up strong.  Kind o' like ropin' a steer.  No
+tellin' where that pome is goin' to land you."
+
+Sundown was more than pleased with himself.  He again recited the verse
+as he plodded along, fixing it in his memory for the future edification
+of his compatriots of the Concho.
+
+"The best thing I ever writ!" he assured himself.  "Fust thing I know
+they'll be puttin' me in one of them doxologies for keeps.  'Sundown
+Slim, The Poet of the Mesas!'  Sounds good to me.  Reckon that's why I
+never seen a woman that I wanted to get married to.  Writin' po'try
+kind of detracted me mind from love.  Guess I could love a woman if she
+wouldn't laugh at me for bein' so dog-goned lengthy.  She would have to
+be a small one, though, so as she'd be kind o' scared o' me bein' so
+big.  Then mebby we could get along pretty good.  'Course, I wouldn't
+like her to be scared all the time, but jest kind o' respectable-like
+to me.  Them's the best kind.  Mebby I'll ketch one some day.  Now
+there goes that Chance after a rabbit ag'in.  He's a long piece
+off--jest can hardly see him except somethin' movin'.  Well, if he
+comes back as quick as he went, he'll be here soon."  And Sundown
+jogged along, spur-chains jingling a fairy tune to his oral soliloquies.
+
+Aside from forgetting to have breakfast that morning, he had made a
+pretty fair beginning.  He was well on his way, had composed a
+roan-colored lyric of the ranges, discoursed on the subject of love,
+and had set his spirit free to meander in the realms of imagination.
+Yet his spirit swept back to him with a rush of wings and a question.
+Why not get married?  And "Gee!  Gosh!" he ejaculated, startled by the
+abruptness of the thought.  "Now I like hosses and dogs and folks, but
+livin' with hosses and dogs ain't like livin' with folks.  If hosses
+and dogs take to you, they think you're the whole thing.  But wimmen is
+different.  If they take to you--why, they think they're the whole
+thing jest because they landed you.  I dunno!  Jest bein' good to folks
+ain't everything, either.  But bein' good to hosses and dogs is.
+Funny.  I dunno, though.  You either got to understand 'em and be rough
+to 'em, or be good to 'em and then they understand you.  Guess they
+ain't no regular guide-book on how to git along with wimmen.  Well, I
+never come West for me health.  I brung it with me, but I ain't goin'
+to take chances by fallin' in love.  Writin' po'try is wearin' enough."
+
+For a while he rode silently, enjoying his utter freedom.  But
+followers of Romance must ever be minute-men, armed and equipped to
+answer her call with instant readiness and grace.  Lacking, perhaps,
+the grace, nevertheless Sundown was loyal to his sovereign mistress, in
+proof of which he again sat straight in the saddle, stirred to speech
+by hidden voices.  "Now, take it like I was wearin' a hard-boiled hat
+and a collar and buttin shoes, like the rest of them sports.  Why, that
+wouldn't ketch the eye of some likely-lookin' lady wantin' to get
+married.  Nix!  When I hit town it's me for the big smoke and me
+picture on the front page, standin' with me faithful dog and a lot of
+them fat little babies without any clothes on, but wings, flyin' around
+the edge of me picture and down by me boots and up around me hat--and
+in big letters she'll say: 'Romance of A Cowboy.  Western Cattle King
+in Search for his Long-lost Sweetheart.  Sundown, once one of our
+Leading Hoboes, now a Wealthy Rancher, visits the Metrokolis on
+Mysterious Errand.'  Huh!  I guess mebby that wouldn't ketch a good
+one, mebby with money."
+
+But the proverbial fly must appear in the equally proverbial amber.
+"'Bout as clost as them papers ever come to it," he soliloquized.
+"Anyhow, if she was the wrong one, and not me long-lost affiniky, and
+was to get stuck on me shape and these here chaps and spurs, reckon I
+could tell her that the papers made the big mistake, and that me
+Mexican wife does the cookin' with a bread-knife in her boot-leg, and
+that I never had no Mormon ideas, nohow.  That ought to sound kind o'
+home-like, and let her down easy and gentle.  I sure don't want to get
+sent down for breakin' the wimmen's hearts, so I got to be durned
+careful."
+
+So immersed was he in his imaginings that he did not at once realize
+that his horse had stopped and was leisurely grazing at the edge of the
+trail.  Chance, who had been running ahead, swung back in a wide circle
+and barked impatiently.  Sundown awakened to himself.  "Here, you red
+hoss, this ain't no pie-contest.  We got to hit the water-hole afore
+dark."  Once more in motion, he reverted to his old theme, but with
+finality in his tone.  "I guess mebby I can't tell them reporters
+somethin' about me hotel out here on the desert!  'The only prevailable
+road-house between Antelope and the Concho, run by the retired
+cattle-king, Sundown Slim.'  Sounds good to me.  Mebby I could work up
+a trade by advertisin' to some of them Eastern folks that eats nothin'
+tougher for breakfast than them quakin'-oats and buns and coffee.  Get
+along, you red hoss."
+
+About six o'clock that evening Sundown arrived at the deserted ranch.
+He unsaddled and led the horse to water.  Then he picketed him for the
+night.  Returning, he prepared a meal and ate heartily.  Just as the
+light faded from the dusty windows, Chance, who was curled in a corner,
+rose and growled.  Sundown strode to the door.  The dog followed,
+sniffing along the crack.  Presently Sundown heard the shuffling tread
+of a horse plodding through the sand.  He swung open the door and stood
+peering into the dusk.  He saw a horseman dismount and enter the
+gateway.  Chance again bristled and growled.  Sundown restrained him.
+
+"Hello, there!  That you, Jack?"
+
+"Nope.  It's me--Sundown from the Concho."
+
+"Concho, eh?  Was headed that way myself.  Saw the dog.  Thought mebby
+it was Jack's dog."
+
+"Goin' to stop?" queried Sundown as the other advanced, leading his
+horse.
+
+"Guess I'll have to.  Don't fancy riding at night.  Getting too old."
+And the short, genial-faced stranger laughed heartily.
+
+"Well, they's plenty room.  Had your supper?"
+
+"No, but I got some chuck along with me.  Got a match?"
+
+Sundown produced matches.  The other rolled a cigarette and studied
+Sundown's face covertly in the glow of the match.  In the flare Sundown
+beheld a thick-set, rather short-necked man, smooth-shaven, and of a
+ruddy countenance.  He also noticed that the stranger wore a coat, and
+at once surmised that he was neither cowboy nor herder.
+
+"Guess I'll stake out the hoss," said the man.  "See you later."
+
+Chance, who had stood with head lowered and neck outstretched, whined
+and leaped up at Sundown, standing with paws on his master's chest and
+vainly endeavoring to tell him something.  The dog's eyes were eloquent
+and intense.
+
+Sundown patted him.  "It's all right, Chance.  That guy's all right.
+Guess I know a good face when I see one.  What's the matter, anyway?"
+
+Chance dropped to his feet and stalked to his corner.  He settled
+himself with a lugubrious sigh, as though unwillingly relinquishing his
+responsibilities in the matter.
+
+When the stranger returned, Sundown had a fire going.  "Feels good,"
+commented the man, rubbing his hands and surveying the room in the glow
+that flared up as he lifted the stove-lid.  "On your way in?"
+
+"Me?  Nope.  I'm goin' to Antelope."
+
+"So?  Is Jack Corliss hurt bad?"
+
+"He was kind o' shook up for a couple of days.  Guess he's gettin'
+along all right now.  Reckon you heard what somebody done to Fadeaway."
+
+The stranger nodded.  "They got him, all right.  Knew Fade pretty well
+myself.  Guess I'll eat.--That coffee of yours was good, all right," he
+said as he finished eating.  He reached for the coffee-pot and tipped
+it.  "She's plumb empty."
+
+"I'll fill her," volunteered Sundown, obligingly.
+
+As he disappeared in the darkness, the stranger stepped to the rear
+door of the room and opened it.  Then he closed the door and stooping
+laid his saddle and blankets against it.  "He can't make a break that
+way," he said to himself.  As Sundown came in, the man noticed that the
+front door creaked shrilly when opened or closed and seemed pleased
+with the fact.  "Too bad about Fadeaway," he said, helping himself to
+more coffee.  "Wonder who got him?"
+
+"I dunno.  I found me boss with his head busted the same day they got
+Fade."
+
+"Been riding for the Concho long?"
+
+"That ain't no joke, if you're meanin' feet and inches."
+
+The other laughed.  His eyes twinkled in the ruddy glow of the stove.
+Suddenly he straightened his shoulders and appeared to be listening.
+"It's the hosses," he said finally.  "Some coyote's fussin' around
+bothering 'em.  It's a long way from home as the song goes.  Lend me
+your gun and I'll go see if I can plug one of 'em and stop their
+yipping."
+
+Sundown presented his gun to the stranger, who slid it between trousers
+and shirt at the waist-band.  "Don't hear 'em now," he announced
+finally.  "Well, guess I'll roll in."
+
+Strangely enough, he had apparently forgotten to return the gun.
+Sundown, undecided whether to ask for it or not, finally spread his
+blankets and called Chance to him.  The dog curled at his master's
+feet.  Save for the diminishing crackle of dry brush in the stove, the
+room was still.  Evidently the ruddy-faced individual was asleep.
+Vaguely troubled by the stranger's failure to return his gun, Sundown
+drifted to sleep, not for an instant suspecting that he was virtually
+the prisoner of the sheriff of Apache County, who had at Loring's
+instigation determined to arrest the erstwhile tramp for the murder of
+Fadeaway.  The sheriff had his own theory as to the killing and his
+theory did not for a moment include Sundown as a possible suspect, but
+he had a good, though unadvertised, reason for holding him.  Accustomed
+to dealing with frontier folk, he argued that Sundown's imprisonment
+would eventually bring to light evidence leading to the identity of the
+murderer.  It was a game of bluff, and at such a game he played a
+master hand.
+
+
+The stranger seemed unusually affable in the morning.  He made the
+fire, and, before Sundown had finished eating, had the two ponies
+saddled and ready for the road.  Sundown thought him a little too
+agreeable.  He was even more perplexed when the man said that he had
+changed his mind and would ride to Antelope with him.  "Thought you
+said you was goin' to the Concho?"
+
+"Well, seeing you say Jack can't ride yet, guess I'll wait."
+
+"He can talk, all right," asserted Sundown.
+
+The other paid no apparent attention to this remark but rode along
+pointing out landmarks and discoursing largely upon the weather, the
+feed, and price of hay and grain and a hundred topics associated with
+ranch-life.  Sundown, forgetful of his pose as a vaquero of long
+standing (unintentional), assumed rather the attitude of one absorbing
+information on such topics than disseminating it.  Nor did he
+understand the stranger's genial invitation to have supper with him at
+Antelope that night, as they rode into the town.  He knew, however,
+that he was creating a sensation, which he attributed to his Mexican
+spurs and chaps.  People stared at him as he stalked down the street
+and turned to stare again.  His companion seemed very well known in
+Antelope.  Nearly every one spoke to him or waved a greeting.  Yet
+there was something peculiar in their attitudes.  There was an
+aloofness about them that was puzzling.
+
+"He sure looks like the bad man from Coyote Gulch," remarked one who
+stood in front of "The Last Chance" saloon.
+
+"He ain't heeled," asserted the speaker's companion.
+
+"Heeled!  Do you reckon Jim's plumb loco?  Jim took care of that."
+
+All of which was music to Sundown.  He was making an impression, yet he
+was not altogether happy.  He did not object to being classed as a bad
+man so long as he knew at heart that he was anything but that.  Still,
+he was rather proud of his instant notoriety.
+
+They stopped in front of a square, one-story building.  Sundown's
+companion unlocked the door.  "Come on in," he said.  "We'll have a
+smoke and talk things over."
+
+"But I was to see Mr. Kennedy the lawyer," asserted Sundown.
+
+"So?  Well, it ain't quite time to see him yet."
+
+Sundown's back became cold and he stared at the stranger with eyes that
+began to see the drift of things.  "You ain't a cop, be you?" he asked
+timorously.
+
+"They call it 'sheriff' here."
+
+"Well, I call it kind o' warm and I'm goin' outside."
+
+"I wouldn't.  One of my deputies is sitting just across the street.
+He's a mighty good shot.  Can beat me hands down.  Suppose you drop
+back in your chair and tell me what you know about the shooting of
+Fadeaway."
+
+"Me?  You ain't joshin', be you?"
+
+"Never more serious in my life!  I'm interested in this case."
+
+"Well, I ain't!" was Sundown's prompt remark.  "And I got to go.  I'm
+goin' on privut business for me boss and confidenshell.  Me and Chance."
+
+"That's all right, my friend.  But I have some private and confidential
+business that can't wait."
+
+"But I ain't done nothin'," whined Sundown, lapsing into his old
+attitude toward the law.
+
+"Maybe not.  Mr. Loring telephoned me that Fadeaway had been shot and
+that a man answering your description--a tramp, he said--seemed to know
+something about it.  You never was a puncher.  You don't get on or off
+a cayuse like one.  From what I learn you were a Hobo when Jack Corliss
+gave you a job.  That's none of my business.  I arrest you as a
+suspicious character, and I guess I'll have to keep you here till I
+find out more about Fadeaway's case.  Have a cigar?"
+
+"Huh!  Say, don't you ever get mad?" queried Sundown, impressed by the
+other's most genial attitude.
+
+The sheriff laughed.  "Doesn't pay in my business.  Now, you just ease
+up and tell me what you know.  It will save time.  Did you ever have
+trouble with Fadeaway?"
+
+"Not on your life!  I give him all the room he wanted."
+
+"Did you know Fernando---one of Loring's herders?"
+
+"I seen him onct.  He saved me life from bein' killed by a steer.  Did
+he say I done it?" parried Sundown.
+
+The sheriff's opinion of Sundown's acumen was disturbed.  Evidently
+this queer individual posing as a cowboy was not such a fool, after all.
+
+"No.  Have you seen him lately?"
+
+"Nope.  Chance and me was over to his camp, but he was gone.  We kind
+o' tracked back there from the place where we found Fadeaway."
+
+"That so?"
+
+"Uhuh.  It was like this."  And Sundown gave a detailed account of his
+explorations.
+
+When he had finished, the sheriff made a note on the edge of a
+newspaper.  Then he turned to Sundown.  "You're either the deepest hand
+I've tackled yet, or you're just a plain fool.  You don't act like a
+killer."
+
+"Killer!  Say, mister, I wouldn't kill a bug that was bitin' me 'less'n
+he wouldn't let go.  Why, ask Chance there!"
+
+"I wish that dog could talk," said the sheriff, smiling.  "Did you know
+that old Fernando had left the country--crossed the line into New
+Mexico?"
+
+"What?  Him?"
+
+"Yes.  I know about where he is."
+
+"Guess his boss fired him for lettin' all the sheep get killed.  Guess
+he had to go somewhere."
+
+The sheriff nodded.  "So you were going to take a little trip yourself,
+were you?"
+
+"For me boss.  You ask him.  He can tell you."
+
+"I reckon when he finds out where you are he'll come in."
+
+"And you're goin' to pinch me?"
+
+"You're pinched."
+
+"Well, I'm dum clost to gettin' mad.  You look here!  Do you think I'd
+be ridin' to Antelope if I done anything like shoot a man?  Do you
+think I'd hand you me gun without sayin' a word?  And if you think I
+didn't shoot Fadeaway, what in hell you pinchin' me for?  Ain't a guy
+got a right to live?"
+
+"Yes.  Fadeaway had a right to live."
+
+"Well, I sure never wanted to see him cross over.  That's the way with
+you cops.  If a fella is a Bo, he gets pinched, anyhow.  If he quits
+bein' a Bo and goes to workin' at somethin', then he gets pinched for
+havin' been a Bo onct.  I been livin' honest and peaceful-like and
+straight--and I get pinched.  Do you wonder a Bo gets tired of tryin'
+to brace up?"
+
+"Can't say that I do.  Got to leave you now.  I'll fix you up
+comfortable in here."  And the sheriff unlocked the door leading to the
+one-room jail.  "I'll talk it over with you in the morning.  The wife
+and kid will sure be surprised to see me back, so I'll mosey down home
+before somebody scares her to death telling her I'm back in town.
+So-long."
+
+Sundown sat on the narrow bed and gazed at the four walls of the room.
+"Wife and kid!" he muttered.  "Well, I reckon he's got a right to have
+'em.  Gee Gosh!  Wonder if he'll feed Chance!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+THE SHERIFF AND OTHERS
+
+Chance, disconsolate, wandered about Antelope, returning at last to lie
+before the door of the sheriff's office.  The sheriff, having
+reestablished himself, for the nonce, in the bosom of his family,
+strolled out to the street.  He called to Chance, who dashed toward
+him, then stopped with neck bristling.
+
+The sheriff's companion laughed.  "I was going to feed him," explained
+the sheriff.
+
+"I know what I'd feed him," growled his companion.
+
+"What for?  He's faithful to his boss--and that's something."
+
+The other grunted and they passed up the street.  Groups of men waylaid
+them asking questions.  As they drifted from one group to another, the
+friend remarked that his companion seemed to be saying little.  The
+stout sheriff smiled.  He was listening.
+
+Chance, aware that something was wrong, fretted around the door of
+Sundown's temporary habitation.  Finally he threw himself down, nose on
+outstretched paws, and gazed at the lights and the men across the way.
+Later, when the town had become dark and silent, the dog rose, shook
+himself, and padded down the highway taking the trail for the Concho.
+He knew that his master's disappearance had not been voluntary.  He
+also knew that his own appearance alone at the Concho would be evidence
+that something had gone wrong.
+
+Once well outside the town, Chance settled to a long, steady stride
+that ate into the miles.  At the water-hole he leaped the closed gate
+and drank.  Again upon the road he swung along across the starlit
+mesas, taking the hills at a trot and pausing on each rise to rest and
+sniff the midnight air.  Then down the slopes he raced, and out across
+the levels, the great bunching muscles of his flanks and shoulders
+working tirelessly.  As dawn shimmered across the ford he trotted down
+the mud-bank and waded into the stream, where he stood shoulder-deep
+and lapped the cool water.
+
+Corliss, early afoot, found him curled at the front door of the
+ranch-house.  Chance braced himself on his fore legs and yawned.  Then
+stretching he rose and, frisking about Corliss, tried to make himself
+understood.  Corliss glanced toward the corral, half expecting to see
+Sundown's horse.  Then he stepped to the men's quarters.  He greeted
+Wingle, asking him if Sundown had returned.
+
+"No.  Thought he went east."
+
+"Chance came back, alone."
+
+And Corliss and the cook eyed each other simultaneously and nodded.
+
+"Loring," said Wingle.
+
+"Guess you're right, Hi."
+
+"Sheriff must 'a' been out of town and got back just in time to meet up
+with Sundown," suggested Wingle.  And he seized a scoop and dug into
+the flour barrel.
+
+
+An hour later the buckboard stood at the ranch gate.  Bud Shoop,
+crooning a range-ditty that has not as yet disgraced an anthology,
+stood flicking the rear wheel with his whip:--
+
+
+  "Oh, that biscuit-shooter on the Santa Fe,
+    --Hot coffee, ham-and-eggs, huckleberry pies,--
+  Got every lonely puncher that went down that way
+    With her yella-bird hair and them big blue eyes . . .
+
+  "For a two-bit feed and a two-bit smile . . ."
+
+
+The song was interrupted by the appearance of Corliss, who swung to the
+seat and took the reins.
+
+"I'll jog 'em for a while," he said as Shoop climbed beside him.  "Go
+ahead, Bud.  Don't mind me."
+
+Shoop laughed and gestured over his shoulder.  "Chance, there, is
+sleepin' with both fists this lovely mornin'.  Wonder how Sun is makin'
+it?"
+
+"We'll find out," said Corliss, shaking his head.
+
+"Believe us!  For we're goin' to town!  Say, ain't you kind of offerin'
+Jim Banks a chance to get you easy?"
+
+"If he wants to.  If he locked Sundown up, he made the wrong move."
+
+"It's easy!" said Shoop, gesturing toward the Loring rancho as they
+passed.  "Goin' to bush at the water-hole to-night?"
+
+"No.  We'll go through."
+
+Shoop whistled.  "Suits me!  And I reckon the team is good for it."
+
+He glanced sideways at Corliss, who sat with eyes fixed straight ahead.
+The cattle-man's face was expressionless.  He was thinking hard and
+fast, but chose to mask it.
+
+Suddenly Shoop, who had watched him some little time, burst into song.
+"Suits me!" he reiterated, more or less ambiguously, by the way, for he
+had just concluded another ornate stanza of the "Biscuit-shooter" lyric.
+
+"It's a real song," remarked Corliss.
+
+"Well, now!" exclaimed Shoop.  And thereafter he also became silent,
+knowing from experience that when Corliss had anything worth while to
+say, he would say it.
+
+About noon they reached the water-hole where Corliss spent some time
+examining the fences and inspecting the outbuildings.
+
+"She's in right good shape yet," commented Shoop.
+
+"The title has reverted to the State.  It's queer Loring hasn't tried
+to file on it."
+
+"Mebby he's used his homestead right a'ready," suggested Shoop.  "But
+Nell Loring could file."
+
+They climbed back into the buckboard.  Again Shoop began a stanza of
+his ditty.  He seemed well pleased about something.  Possibly he
+realized that his employer's attitude had changed; that he had at last
+awakened to the obvious necessity for doing something.  As Corliss put
+the team to a brisk trot the foreman's song ran high.  Action was his
+element.  Inactivity tended to make him more or less cynical, and ate
+into his tobacco money.
+
+Suddenly Corliss turned to him.  "Bud, I'm going to homestead that
+ranch."
+
+"Whoop!" cried the foreman.  "First shot at the buck!"
+
+"I'm going to put Sundown on it, for himself.  He's steady and wouldn't
+hurt a fly."
+
+Shoop became silent.  He, in turn, stared straight ahead.
+
+"What do you think of it?" queried Corliss.
+
+"Nothin'.  'Cept I wouldn't mind havin' a little ole homestead myself."
+
+Corliss laughed.  "You're not cut out for it, Bud.  You mean you'd like
+the chance to make the water-hole a base for operations against Loring.
+And the place isn't worth seed, Bud."
+
+"But that water is goin' to be worth somethin'--and right soon.  Loring
+can't graze over this side the Concho, if he can't get to water."
+
+"That's it.  If I put you on that ranch, you'd stand off Loring's
+outfit to the finish, I guess."
+
+"I sure would."
+
+"That's why I want Sundown to take it up.  He'd let his worst enemy
+water sheep or cattle there.  He won't fight, but he's loyal enough to
+my interests to sue Loring for trespass, if necessary."
+
+"See you and raise you one, Jack.  They'll bluff Sun clean off his hind
+feet.  He won't stick."
+
+"I'll chance it, Bud.  And, besides, I need you right where you are."
+
+"I'm sure happy!" exclaimed the irrepressible Bud, grinning.
+
+Corliss laughed, then shook his head.  "I'll tell you one thing," he
+said, facing his foreman.  "I've been 'tending too many irons and some
+of 'em are getting cold.  I don't want trouble with any one.  I've held
+off from Loring because--oh--because I had a good reason to say
+nothing.  Billy's out of it again.  The coast is clear, and I'm going
+to give old man Loring the fight of his life."
+
+The whoop which Shoop let out startled the team into a lunging gallop.
+"Go it, if you want to!" said Corliss as the buckboard swung around a
+turn and took the incline toward Antelope.  "I'm in a hurry myself."
+
+Nevertheless, he saved the team as they struck the level and held them
+to a trot.  "Wise old head," was Shoop's inward comment.  And then
+aloud: "Say, Jack, I ain't sayin' I'm glad to see you get beat up, but
+that bing on the head sure got you started right.  The boys was
+commencin' to wonder how long you'd stand it without gettin' your back
+up.  She's up.  I smell smoke."
+
+
+At Antelope, Shoop put up the horses.  Later he joined his employer and
+they had supper at the hotel.  Then they strolled out and down the
+street toward the sheriff's home.  When they knocked at the door it was
+opened by a plump, dark-eyed woman who greeted them heartily.
+
+"Come right in, boys.  Jim's tendin' the baby."  And she took their
+hats.
+
+They stepped to the adjoining room where Sheriff Jim sat on the floor,
+his coat off, while his youngest deputy, clad only in an abbreviated
+essential garnished with a safety-pin, sat opposite, gravely tearing up
+the evening paper and handing the pieces to his proud father, who
+stuffed the pieces in his pants pocket and cheerfully asked for more.
+
+"Election?" queried Shoop.
+
+"And all coming Jim's way," commented Corliss.
+
+The baby paused in his balloting and solemnly surveyed the dusty
+strangers.  Then he pulled a piece of paper from his father's pocket
+and offered it to Shoop.  "Wants me to vote, the little cuss!  Well,
+here goes."  And, albeit unfamiliar with plump aborigines at close
+range, the foreman entered into the spirit of the game and cast his
+vote for the present incumbent, deputizing the "yearlin'" to handle the
+matter.  The yearling however, evidently thought it was time for a
+recount.  He gravitated to the perspiring candidate and, standing on
+his hands and feet,--an attitude which seemingly caused him no
+inconvenience,--reached in the ballot-box and pulling therefrom a
+handful of votes he cast them ceiling-ward with a shrill laugh,
+followed by an unintelligible spluttering as he sat down suddenly and
+began to pick up the scattered pieces of paper.
+
+"You're elected," announced Shoop.
+
+And the by-play was understood by the three men, yet each maintained
+his unchanged expression of countenance.
+
+"You see how I'm fixed, boys," said the sheriff.  "Got to stick by my
+constituent or he'll howl."
+
+"We're in no hurry, Jim.  Just drove into town to look around a little."
+
+"I'll take him now," said Mrs. Jim, as she came from the kitchen drying
+her hands on her apron.
+
+The elector, however, was of a different mind.  He greeted his mother
+with a howl and a series of windmill revolutions of his arms and legs
+as she caught him up.
+
+"Got mighty free knee-action," remarked Shoop.  "Mebby when he's bedded
+down for the night you can come over to the 'Palace.'"
+
+"I'll be right with you."  And the sheriff slipped into his coat.  "How
+you feeling, Jack?"
+
+"Pretty good.  That's a great boy of yours."
+
+"Sure got your brand," added Shoop.  "Built close to the ground like
+his dad."
+
+Sheriff Banks accepted these hardy compliments with an embarrassed grin
+and followed his guests to the doorway.
+
+"Good-night!" called Mrs. Jim from the obscurity of the bedroom.
+
+"Good-night, ma'am!" from Shoop.
+
+"Good-night!" said Corliss.  "Take good care of that yearling."
+
+"Well, now, John, as if I wouldn't!"
+
+"Molly would come out," apologized Jim, "only the kid is--is grazin'.
+How's the feed holdin' out on the Concho?" which question following in
+natural sequence was not, however, put accidentally.
+
+"Fair," said Corliss.  "We looked for you up that way."
+
+"I was over on the Reservation.  I sent Tom up there to see after
+things," and the sheriff gestured toward the distant Concho.  "Sent him
+up to-night.  Let's go over to the office."
+
+Corliss shook his head.  "Don't want to see him, just now.  Besides, I
+want to say a few things private."
+
+"All right.  There was a buyer from Kansas City dropped in to town
+to-day.  Didn't see him, did you?"
+
+"Cattle?"
+
+"Uhuh."
+
+"No.  We just got in."
+
+They turned and walked up the street, nodding to an occasional lounger,
+laughing and talking easily, yet each knew that their banter was a
+meandering current leading to something deeper which would be sounded
+before they separated.
+
+Sheriff Banks suddenly stopped and slapped his thigh.  "By Gum!  I
+clean forgot to ask if you had chuck.  You see that kid of mine--"
+
+"Sure!  But we put the 'Palace' two feeds to the bad," asserted Shoop.
+
+They drifted to the hotel doorway and paused at the counter where each
+gravely selected a cigar.  Then they clumped upstairs to Corliss's
+room.  Jim Banks straddled a chair and faced his friends.
+
+Shoop, excusing himself with humorous politeness, punched the pillows
+together and lay back on the bed which creaked and rustled beneath his
+weight.  "These here corn-husk mattresses is apologizin'," he said,
+twisting around and leaning on his elbow.
+
+"Well, Jack," said the smiling sheriff, "shoot the piece."
+
+"Or the justice of the peace--don't matter," murmured Shoop.
+
+Corliss, leaning forward, gazed at the end of his cigar.  Then he
+raised his eyes.  "Jim," he said quietly, "I want Sundown."
+
+"So do I."
+
+Corliss smiled.  "You've got him, all right.  What's your idea?"
+
+"Well, if anybody else besides you asked me, Jack, they'd be wasting
+time.  Sundown is your man.  I don't know anything about him except he
+was a Hobo before he hit the Concho.  But I happen to know that he was
+pretty close to the place where Fadeaway got his, the same day and
+about the same time.  I've listened to all the talk around town and it
+hasn't all been friendly to you.  You can guess that part of it."
+
+"If you want me--" began Corliss.
+
+"No."  And the sheriff's gesture of negation spread a film of cigar-ash
+on the floor.  "It's the other man I want."
+
+"Sundown?" asked Shoop, sitting up suddenly.
+
+"You go to sleep, Bud," laughed the sheriff.  "You can't catch me that
+easy."
+
+Shoop relaxed with the grin of a school-boy.
+
+"I'll go bail," offered Corliss.
+
+"No.  That would spoil my plan.  See here, Jack, I know you and Bud
+won't talk.  Loring telephoned me to look out for Sundown.  I did.
+Now, Loring knows who shot Fadeaway, or I miss my guess.  Nellie Loring
+knows, too.  So do you, but you can't prove it.  It was like Fade to
+put Loring's sheep into the canon, but we can't prove even that, now.
+I'm pretty sure your scrap with Fade didn't have anything to do with
+his getting shot.  You ain't that kind."
+
+"Well, here's my side of it, Jim.  Fadeaway had it in for me for firing
+him.  He happened to see me talking to Nellie Loring at Fernando's
+camp.  Later we met up on the old Blue Trail.  He said one or two
+things that I didn't like.  I let him have it with the butt of my
+quirt.  He jerked out his gun and hit me a clip on the head.  That's
+all I remember till the boys came along."
+
+"You didn't ride as far as the upper ford, that day?"
+
+"No.  I told Fadeaway I wanted him to come back with me and talk to
+Loring.  I was pretty sure he put the sheep into the canon."
+
+"Well, Jack, knowing you since you were a boy, that's good enough for
+me."
+
+"But how about Sundown?"
+
+"He stays.  How long do you think I'll hold Sundown before Nell Loring
+drives into Antelope to tell me she can like as not prove he didn't
+kill Fade?"
+
+"But if you know that, why do you hold him?"
+
+"To cinch up my ideas, tight.  Holding him will make talk.  Folks
+always like to show off what they know about such things.  It's natural
+in 'em."
+
+"New Mex. is a comf'table-sized State," commented Shoop from the bed.
+
+"And he was raised there," said the sheriff.  "He's got friends over
+the line and so have I.  Sent 'em over last week."
+
+"Thought Sun was raised back East?" said Shoop, again sitting up.
+
+Corliss smiled.  "Better give it up, Bud."
+
+"Oh, _very_ well!" said Shoop, mimicking a _grande dame_ who had once
+stopped at Antelope in search for local color.  "Anyhow, you got to set
+a Mexican to catch a Mexican when he's hidin' out with Mexicans."  With
+this bit of advice, Shoop again relapsed to silence.
+
+"Going back to the Concho to-morrow?" queried Banks.
+
+"No.  Got a little business in town."
+
+"I heard Loring was due here to-morrow."  The sheriff stated this
+casually, yet with intent.  "I was talking with Art Kennedy 'bout two
+hours ago--"
+
+"Kennedy the land-shark?" queried Shoop.
+
+"The same.  He said something about expecting Loring."
+
+Bud Shoop had never aspired to the distinction of being called a
+diplomat, but he had an active and an aggressive mind.  With the
+instinct for seizing the main chance by its time-honored forelock, he
+rose swiftly.  "By Gravy, Jack!  I gone and left them things in the
+buckboard!"
+
+"Oh, they'll be all right," said Corliss easily.  Then he caught his
+foreman's eye and read its meaning.  His nod to Shoop was all but
+imperceptible.
+
+"I dunno, Jack.  I'd hate to lose them notes."
+
+"Notes?"  And the sheriff grinned.  "Writing a song or starting a bank,
+Bud?"
+
+"Song.  I was composin' it to Jack, drivin' in."  And the genial Bud
+grabbed his hat and swept out of the room.
+
+Long before he returned, Sheriff Jim had departed puzzling over the
+foreman's sudden exit until he came opposite "The Last Chance" saloon.
+There he had an instant glimpse of Bud and the one known as Kennedy
+leaning against the bar and conversing with much gusto.  Then the
+swing-door dropped into place.  The sheriff smiled and putting two and
+two together found that they made four, as is usually the case.  He had
+wanted to let Corliss know that Loring was coming to Antelope and to
+let him know casually, and glean from the knowledge anything that might
+be of value.  Sheriff Banks knew a great deal more about the affairs of
+the distant ranchers than he was ordinarily given credit for.  He had
+long wondered why Corliss had not taken up the water-hole homestead.
+
+Corliss was in bed when Shoop swaggered in.  The foreman did a few
+steps of a jig, flung his hat in the corner, and proceeded to undress.
+
+"Did you see Kennedy?" yawned Corliss.
+
+"Bet your whiskers I did!  Got the descriptions in my pocket.  You owe
+me the price of seven drinks, Jack, to say nothin' of what I took
+myself.  Caught him at 'The Last Chance' and let on I was the pore
+lonely cowboy with a sufferin' thirst.  Filled him up with
+'Look-out-I'm-Comin'' and landed him at his shack, where he dug up them
+ole water-hole descriptions, me helpin' promiscus.  He kind o' bucked
+when I ast him for them papers.  Said he only had one copy that he was
+holdin' for another party.  And I didn't have to strain my guesser any,
+to guess who.  I told him to saw off and get busy quick or I'd have him
+pinched for playin' favorites.  Guess he seen I meant business, for he
+come acrost.  She toots for Antelope six-forty tomorrow mornin'.  This
+is where I make the grand play as a homesteader, seein' pore Sundown's
+eatin' on the county.  Kind o' had a hunch that way."
+
+"We'll have to nail it quick.  If you file you'll have to quit on the
+Concho."
+
+"Well, then, I quit.  Sinker is right in line for my bunk.  Me for the
+big hammer and the little ole sign what says: 'Private property!  Keep
+off!  All trespassers will be executed!'  And underneath, kind o'
+sassy-like, 'Bud Shoop, proprietor.'"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+THE ESCAPE
+
+About midnight Corliss and his foreman were awakened by a cry of
+"Fire!"  They scrambled from bed and pawed around in the dark for their
+clothes.
+
+"Spontinuous conibustication," said Shoop, with a yawn.  "A Jew
+clothin'-store and a insurance-policy.  Wonder who's ablaze?"
+
+"I can see from here," said Corliss at the window.  "Keep on dressing,
+Bud, it's the sheriff's office!"
+
+"Sundown!" Shoop exclaimed, dancing about inelegantly with one foot
+halfway down his pants-leg.
+
+They tramped down the stairs and ran across to the blazing building.  A
+group of half-dressed citizens were passing buckets and dashing their
+final and ineffectual contents against the spouting flames.
+
+"He's sure done on both sides if he's in there," remarked Shoop.  He
+ran around to the back of the jail and called loudly on Sundown.
+Jumping, he caught the high wooden bars of the window and peered into
+the rear room.  A rivulet of flame crept along the door that led from
+the jail to the office.  The room seemed to be empty.  Shoop dropped to
+the ground and strolled around to the front.  "Tryin' to save the
+buildin' or the prisoner?" he asked of a sweating bucket-passer.
+
+The man paused for a second, slopping water on his boots and gazing
+about excitedly.  "Hey, boys!" he shouted.  "Get an axe and chop open
+the back!  The long gent is roastin' to death in there!"
+
+"And I reckon that'll keep 'em busy while Sun fans it," soliloquized
+Shoop.  "Hello, Jack!"  And he beckoned to Corliss.  "He ain't in
+there," he whispered, "But how he got out, gets me!"
+
+"We might as well go back to bed," said Corliss.  "They'll get him,
+anyway.  There's one of Jim's deputies on a cayuse now."
+
+"Where do you reckon he'll head for?"
+
+"Don't know, Bud.  If he heads for the water-hole, they'll get him in
+no time."
+
+"Think he set her on fire?"
+
+"Maybe he dropped a cigarette.  I don't think he'd risk it, on purpose."
+
+Shoop glanced at his watch, tilting it toward the light of the flames.
+"It's just one.  Hello!  There comes the agent.  Reckon he thought the
+station was afire."
+
+"Guess not.  He's lighting up.  Must be a special going to stop."
+
+"He's sure set the red.  Say, I'm goin' over to see.  Wait a minute."
+
+Shoop followed the agent into the station.  Presently the foreman
+reappeared and beckoned to Corliss.  "Listen, Jack!  Reddy says he's
+got some runnin' orders for the Flyer and she's got to stop to get 'em.
+That means we can eat breakfast in Usher, 'stead of here.  No tellin'
+who'll be on the six-forty headed for the same place, tomorrow mornin'."
+
+Corliss pondered.  His plan of homesteading the water-hole ranch had
+been upset by the arrest of Sundown.  Still, that was no reason for
+giving up the plan.  From Shoop's talk with Kennedy, the lawyer, it was
+evident that Loring had his eye on the deserted ranch.
+
+Far down the track he saw a glimmering dot of fire and heard the faint
+muffled whistle of the Flyer.  "All right, Bud.  I'll get the tickets.
+Get our coats.  We can just make it."
+
+When they stepped from the Flyer at Usher, the faint light of dawn was
+edging the eastern hills.  A baggage-truck rumbled past and they heard
+some one shout, "Get out o' that!"  In the dim light they saw a figure
+crawl from beneath the baggage-car and dash across the station platform
+to be swallowed up in the shadowy gloom of a side street.
+
+"I only had seven drinks," said Shoop, gazing after the disappearing
+figure.  "But if Sundown ain't a pair of twins, that was him."
+
+"Hold on, Bud!"  And Corliss laid his hand on Shoop's arm.  "Don't take
+after him.  That's the way to stampede him.  We go easy till it's
+light.  He'll see us."
+
+They sauntered up the street and stopped opposite an "all-night"
+eating-house.
+
+"We won't advertise the Concho, this trip," said Corliss, as they
+entered.
+
+Shoop, with his legs curled around the counter stool, sipped his coffee
+and soliloquized.  "Wise old head!  Never was a hotel built that was
+too good for Jack when he's travelin'.  And he don't do his thinkin'
+with his feet, either."
+
+The waiter, who had retired to the semi-seclusion of the kitchen, dozed
+in a chair tilted back against the wall.  He was awakened by a voice at
+the rear door.  Shoop straightened up and grinned at Corliss.  The
+waiter vocalized his attitude with the brief assertion that there was
+"nothin' doin'."
+
+"It's him!" said Shoop.
+
+"I got the price," came from the unseen.
+
+"Then you beat it around to the front," suggested the waiter.
+
+Shoop called for another cup of coffee.  As the waiter brought it,
+Sundown, hatless, begrimed, and showing the effects of an unupholstered
+journey, appeared in the doorway.  Shoop turned and stood up.
+
+"Well, if it ain't me old pal Buddy!" exclaimed Sundown.  "What you
+doin' in this here burg?"
+
+"Why, hello, Hawkins!  Where'd you fall from?  How's things over to
+Homer?"
+
+Sundown took the hint and fabricated a heart-rending tale of an
+all-night ride on "a cayuse that had been tryin' to get rid of him ever
+since he started and had finally piled him as the Flyer tooted for
+Usher."
+
+"You do look kind o' shook-up.  Better eat."
+
+"I sure got room," said Sundown.  "Fetch me a basket of doughnuts and a
+pail of coffee.  That there Fly--cayuse sure left me, but he didn't
+take me appetite."
+
+After the third cup of coffee and the seventh doughnut, Sundown
+asserted that he felt better.  They sauntered out to the street.
+
+"How in blazes did you get loose?" queried Shoop, surveying the unkempt
+adventurer with frank amazement.
+
+"Blazes is correct.  I clumb out of the window."
+
+"Set her on fire?"
+
+"Not with mellishus extent, as the judge says.  Mebby it was a
+cigarette.  I dunno.  First thing I know I was dreamin' I smelt smoke
+and the dream sure come true.  If them bars had been a leetle closter
+together, I reckon I would be tunin' a harp, right now."
+
+"How did you happen to jump our train--and get off here?" asked Corliss.
+
+"It was sure lucky," said Sundown, grinning.  "I run 'round back of the
+station and snook up and crawled under the platform in front.  I could
+see everybody hoppin' 'round and I figured I was safer on the job,
+expectin' they'd be lookin' for me to beat it out of town.  Then you
+fellas come up and stood talkin' right over me head.  Bud he says
+somethin' about eatin' breakfast in Usher, and bein' hungry and likin'
+good comp'ny, I waits till the train pulls up and crawls under the
+baggage.  And here I be."
+
+"We'll have to get you a hat and a coat.  We'll stop at the next
+barber-shop.  You wash up and get shaved.  We'll wait.  Then we'll head
+for the court-house."
+
+"Me ranch?"  And Sundown beamed through his grime.  "Makes me feel like
+writin' a pome!  Now, mebby--"
+
+"Haven't time, now.  Got to scare up two more witnesses to go on your
+paper.  There's a place, just opening up."
+
+They crossed the street.  Next to the barbershop was a saloon.
+
+Sundown eyed the sign pensively.  "I ain't a drinkin' man--regular," he
+said, "but there are times . . ."
+
+"There are times," echoed Corliss, and the three filed between the
+swing-doors and disappeared.
+
+
+An hour later three men, evidently cow-men from their gait and bearing,
+passed along the main street of Usher and entered the court-house,
+where they were met by two citizens.  The five men were admitted to the
+inner sanctum of the hall of justice, from which they presently
+emerged, laughing and joking.  The tallest of them seemed to be
+receiving the humorous congratulations of his companions.  He shook
+hands all around and remarked half-apologetically: "I ain't a drinkin'
+man, reg'lar . . . but there are times . . ."
+
+The five men drifted easily toward the swing-doors.  Presently they
+emerged.  Shoop nudged his employer.  David Loring and his daughter had
+just crossed the street.  The old sheep-man glanced at the group in
+front of the saloon and blinked hard.  Of the West, he read at a glance
+the situation.  Sundown, Corliss, and Shoop raised their hats as
+Eleanor Loring bowed.
+
+"Beat him by a neck!" said Shoop.  "Guess we better fan it, eh, Jack?"
+
+"There's no hurry," said Corliss easily.  Nevertheless, he realized
+that Sundown's presence in Usher was quite apt to be followed by a wire
+from the sheriff of Antelope which would complicate matters, to say the
+least.  He shook hands with the two townsmen and assured them that the
+hospitality of the Concho was theirs when they chose to honor it.  Then
+he turned to Bud Shoop.  "Get the fastest saddle-horse in town and ride
+out to the South road and wait for us.  I'm going to send Sundown over
+to Murphy's.  Pat knows me pretty well.  From there he can take the
+Apache road to the Concho.  We can outfit him and get him settled at
+the water-hole ranch before any one finds out where he is."
+
+"But Jim'll get him again," said Shoop.
+
+"I expect him to.  That'll be all right."
+
+"Well, you got me.  Thought I knowed somethin' about your style, but I
+don't even know your name."
+
+"Let's move on.  You go ahead and get the cayuse.  I want to talk to
+Sundown."
+
+Then Corliss explained his plan.  He told Sundown to keep the
+water-hole fenced and so keep the sheep-men from using it.  This would
+virtually control several thousand acres of range around the water-hole
+ranch.  He told Sundown that he expected him to homestead the ranch for
+himself--do the necessary work to secure a title, and then at his
+option either continue as a rancher or sell the holding to the Concho.
+"I'll start you with some stock--a few head, and a horse or two.  All
+you have to do is to 'tend to business and forget that I have ever
+spoken to you about homesteading the place.  You'll have to play it
+alone after you get started."
+
+"Suits me, boss.  I ain't what you'd call a farmer, but me and Chance
+can scratch around and act like we was.  But the smooth gent as pinched
+me--ain't he goin' to come again?"
+
+"Sure as you're wearing spurs!  But you just take it easy and you'll
+come out all right.  Loring put Jim Banks after you.  Jim is all right
+and he's business.  Loring wants the water-hole ranch.  So do I.  Now,
+if Loring tells the sheriff he saw you in Usher, and later at the
+water-hole, Jim will begin to think that Loring is keeping pretty close
+trail on you.  When Jim finds out you've filed on the water-hole,--and
+he already knows that Loring wants it,--he'll begin to figure that
+Loring had you jailed to keep you out of his way.  And you can take it
+from me, Jim Banks is the squarest man in Apache County.  He'll give
+you a chance to make good.  If we can keep you out of sight till he
+hears from over the line, I think you'll be safe after that.  If we
+can't, why, you still have your title to the water-hole ranch and that
+holds it against trespassers."
+
+"Well, you're sure some shark on the long think!  Say, I been scared
+stiff so long I'm just commencin' to feel me legs again.  The sun is
+shinin' and the birds are sawin' wood.  I get you, boss!  The old guy
+that owns the wool had me pinched.  Well, I ain't got nothin' ag'in'
+him, but that don't say I ain't workin' for you.  Say, if he comes
+botherin' around me farm, do I shoot?"
+
+"No.  You just keep right on.  Pay no attention to him."
+
+"Just sick Chance on him, eh?"
+
+"He'd get Chance.  I'm going to run some cattle over that way soon.
+Then you'll have company.  You needn't be scared."
+
+"Cattle is some comp'ny at that.  Say, have I got to ride that there
+bronc Bud jest went down the street on?"
+
+"As soon as we get out of town."
+
+"Which wouldn't be long if we had hosses like him, eh?"
+
+"I'll give you a note to Murphy.  He'll send your horse back to Usher
+and let you take a fresh horse when you start for the Concho.  Take it
+easy, and don't talk."
+
+"All right, boss.  But I was thinkin'--"
+
+"What?"
+
+"Well, it's men like me and you that puts things through.  It takes a
+man with sand to go around this country gettin' pinched and thrun and
+burnt up and bein' arrested every time he goes to spit.  Folks'll be
+sayin' that there Sundown gent is a brave man--me!  Never shot nobody
+and dependin' on his nerve, every time.  They's nothin' like havin' a
+bad repetation."
+
+"Nothing like it," assented Corliss, smiling.  "Well, here's your road.
+Keep straight on till you cross the river.  Then take the right fork
+and stick to it, and you'll ride right into Murphy's.  He'll fix you
+up, all right."
+
+"Did you think in this note to tell him to give me a hoss that only
+travels one way to onct?" queried Sundown.
+
+Corliss laughed.  "Yes, I told him.  Don't forget you're a citizen and
+a homesteader.  We're depending on you."
+
+"You bet!  And I'll be there with the bells!"
+
+
+Shoop and Corliss watched Sundown top a distant rise and disappear in a
+cloud of dust.  Then they walked back to the station.  As they waited
+for the local, Shoop rolled a cigarette.  "Jest statin' it mild and
+gentle," he said, yawning, "the last couple of weeks has been kind of a
+busy day.  Guess the fun's all over.  Sundown's got a flyin' start;
+Loring's played his ace and lost, and you and me is plumb sober.  If
+I'd knowed it was goin' to be as quiet as this, I'd 'a' brought my
+knittin' along."
+
+"There are times . . ." said Corliss.
+
+"And we got just five minutes," said Shoop.  "Come on."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+THE WALKING MAN
+
+Sundown's sense of the dramatic, his love for posing, with his
+linguistic ability to adopt the vernacular of the moment so impressed
+the temperamental Murphy that he disregarded a portion of his friend
+Corliss's note, and the morning following his lean guest's arrival at
+the ranch the jovial Irishman himself saddled and bridled the swiftest
+and most vicious horse in the corral; a glass-eyed pinto, bronc from
+the end of his switching tail to his pink-mottled muzzle.  He was a
+horse with a record which he did not allow to become obsolete, although
+he had plenty of competition to contend with in the string of broncs
+that Murphy's riders variously bestrode.  Moreover, the pinto, like
+dynamite, "went off" at the most unexpected intervals, as did many of
+his riders.  Sundown, bidding farewell to his host, mounted and swung
+out of the yard at a lope.  The pinto had ideas of his own.  Should he
+buck in the yard, he would immediately be roped and turned into the
+corral again.  Out on the mesas it would be different--and it was.
+
+He paid no attention to a tumble-weed gyrating across the Apache road.
+Neither did he seem disturbed when a rattler burred in the bunch-grass.
+Even the startled leap of a rabbit that shot athwart his immediate
+course was greeted with nothing more than a snort and a toss of his
+swinging head.  Such things were excuses for bad behavior, but he was
+of that type which furnishes its own excuse.  He would lull his rider
+to a false security, and then . . .
+
+The pinto loped over level and rise tirelessly.  Sundown stood in his
+stirrups and gazed ahead.  The wide mesas glowing in the sun, the sense
+of illimitable freedom, the keen, odorless air wrought him to a pitch
+of inspiration.  He would, just over the next rise, draw rein and woo
+his muse.  But the next rise and the next swept beneath the pinto's
+rhythmic hoofs.  The poetry of motion swayed his soul.  He was enjoying
+himself.  At last, he reflected, he had mastered the art of sitting a
+horse.  He had already mastered the art of mounting and of descending
+under various conditions and at seemingly impossible angles.  As Hi
+Wingle had once remarked--Sundown was the most _durable_ rider on the
+range.  His length of limb had no apparent relation to his shortcomings
+as a vaquero.
+
+Curiosity, as well as pride, may precede a fall.  Sundown eventually
+reined up and breathed the pinto, which paced with lowered head as
+though dejected and altogether weary--which was merely a pose, if an
+object in motion can be said to pose.  His rider, relaxing, slouched in
+the saddle and dreamed of a peaceful and domestic future as owner of a
+small herd of cattle, a few fenced acres of alfalfa and vegetables, a
+saddle-horse something like the pinto which he bestrode, with Chance as
+companion and audience--and perhaps a low-voiced senora to welcome him
+at night when he rode in with spur-chains jingling and the silver
+conchas on his chaps gleaming like stars in the setting sun.  "But me
+chaps did their last gleam in that there fire," he reflected sadly.
+"But I got me big spurs yet."  Which after-thought served in a measure
+to mitigate his melancholy.  Like a true knight, he had slept spurred
+and belted for the chance encounter while held in durance vile at
+Antelope.  "But me ranch!" he exclaimed.  "Me!  And mebby a tame cow
+and chickens and things,--eh, Chance!"  But Chance, he immediately
+realized, was not with him.  He would have a windmill and shade-trees
+and a border of roses along the roadway to the house--like the Loring
+rancho.  But the senorita to be wooed and won--that was a different
+matter.  "'T ain't no woman's country nohow--this here Arizona.  She's
+fine!  But she's a man's country every time!  Only sech as me and Jack
+Corliss and Bud and them kind is fit to take the risks of makin' good
+in this here State.  But we're makin' good, you calico-hoss!  Listen:--
+
+  "Oh, there's sunshine on the Concho where the little owls are cryin',
+    And red across the 'dobe strings of chiles are a-dryin';
+  And if Arizona's heaven, tell me what's the use of dyin'?
+    Yes, it's good enough down here, just breathin' air;
+
+  "For the posies are a-bloomin' and the mockin'-birds are matin',
+    And somewhere in Arizona there's a Chola girl a-waitin'
+  For to cook them enchiladas while I do the irrigatin'
+    On me little desert homestead over there.
+
+  "While I'm ridin' slow and easy . . ."
+
+"Whoa!  Wonder what that is?  Never seen one of them things before.  'T
+ain't a lizard, but he looks like his pa was a lizard.  Mebby his ma
+was a toad.  Kind of a Mormon, I guess."
+
+He leaned forward and gravely inspected the horned toad that blinked at
+him from the edge of the grass.  The pinto realized that his rider's
+attention was otherwise and thoroughly occupied.  With that
+unforgettable drop of head and arch of spine the horse bucked.  Sundown
+did an unpremeditated evolution that would have won him much applause
+and gold had he been connected with a circus.  He landed in a clump of
+brush and watched his hat sail gently down.  The pinto whirled and took
+the homeward road, snorting and bounding from side to side as the dust
+swirled behind him.  Sundown scratched his head.  "Lemme see.  'We was
+ridin', slow and easy . . .'  Huh!  Well, I ain't cussin' because I
+don' know how.  Lemme see . . . I was facin' east when I started.  Now
+I'm lit, and I'm facin' south.  Me hat's there, and that there
+toad-lizard oughter be over there, if he ain't scared to death.  Reckon
+I'll quit writin' po'try jest at present and finish gettin' acquainted
+with that there toad-lizard.  Wonder how far I got to walk?  Anyhow, I
+was gettin' tired of ridin'.  By gum! me eats is tied to the saddle!
+It's mighty queer how a fella gets set back to beginnin' all over ag'in
+every onct in a while.  Now, this mornin' I was settin' up ridin' a
+good hoss and thinkin' poetical.  Now I'm settin' down restin'.  The
+sun is shinin' yet, and them jiggers in the brush is chirpin' and the
+air is fine, but I ain't thinkin' poetical.  I'd sure hate to have a
+real lady read what I'm thinkin', if it was in a book.  'Them that sets
+on the eggs of untruth,' as the parson says, 'sure hatches lies.'  Jest
+yesterday I was tellin' in Usher how me bronc piled me when I'd been
+ridin' the baggage, which was kind of a hoss-lie.  I must 'a' had it
+comin'."
+
+He rose and stalked to the roadway.  The horned toad, undisturbed,
+squatted in the grass and eyed him with bright, expressionless eyes.
+
+"If I was like some," said Sundown, addressing the toad, "I'd pull me
+six-shooter, only I ain't got it now, and bling you to nothin'.
+Accordin' to law you're the injudicious cause preceding the act, which
+makes you guilty accordin' to the statues of this here commonwealth,
+and I seen lots of 'em on the same street, in Boston, scarin' hosses to
+death and makin' kids and nuss-girls cry.  But I ain't goin' to shoot
+you.  If I was to have the sayin' of it, I'd kind o' like to shoot that
+hoss, though.  He broke as fine a pome in the middle as I ever writ, to
+say nothin' of hurtin' me personal feelin's.  Well, so-long, leetle
+toad-lizard.  Just tell them that you saw me--and they will know the
+rest--if anybody was to ask you, a empty saddle and a man a-foot in the
+desert is sure circumvential evidence ag'in the hoss.  Wonder how far
+it is to the Concho?"
+
+With many a backward glance, inspired by fond imaginings that the pinto
+_might_ have stopped to graze, Sundown stalked down the road.  Waif of
+chance and devotee of the goddess "Maybeso," he rose sublimely superior
+to the predicament in which he found himself.  "The only reason I'm
+goin' east is because I ain't goin' west," he told himself, ignoring,
+with warm adherence to the glowing courses of the sun the frigid
+possibilities of the poles.  Warmed by the exercise of plodding across
+the mesa trail in high-heeled boots, he swung out of his coat and slung
+it across his shoulder.  Dust gathered in the wrinkles of his boots,
+and more than once he stopped to mop his sweating face with his
+bandanna.  Rise after rise swept gently before him and within the hour
+he saw the misty outline of the blue hills to the south.  Slowly his
+moving shadow shifted, bobbing in front of him as the sun slipped
+toward the western horizon.  A little breeze sighed along the road and
+whirls of sand spun in tiny cones around the roots of the chaparral.
+He reached in his pocket, drew forth a silver dollar, and examined it.
+"Now if they weren't any folks on this here earth, I reckon silver and
+gold and precious jools wouldn't be worth any more than rocks and mud
+and gravel, eh?  Why, even if they weren't no folks, water would be
+worth more to this here world than gold.  Water makes things grow
+and--and keeps a fella from gettin' thirsty.  And mud makes things
+grow, too, but I dunno what rocks are for.  Just to sit on when you're
+tired, I reckon."  The sibilant burring of a rattler in the brush set
+his neck and back tingling.  "And what snakes was made for, gets me!
+They ain't good to eat, nohow.  And they ain't friendly like some of
+the bugs and things.  I'm thinkin' that that there snake what clumb the
+tree and got Mrs. Eve interested in the apple business would 'a' been a
+whole lot better for folks, if he'd 'a' stayed up that tree and died,
+instead o' runnin' around and raisin' young ones.  Accordin' to my way
+of thinkin' a garden ain't a garden with a snake in it, nohow.  Now,
+Mrs. Eve--if she'd had to take a hammer and nails and make a ladder to
+get to them apples, by the time she got the ladder done I reckon them
+apples wouldn't 'a' looked so good to her.  That's what comes of havin'
+a snake handy.  'Course, bein' a woman, she jest nacherally couldn't
+wait for 'em to get ripe and fall off the tree.  That would 'a' been
+too easy.  It sure is funny how folks goes to all kinds o' trouble to
+get into it.  Mebby she did get kind o' tired eatin' the same
+breakfast-food every mornin'.  Lots o' folks do, and hankers to try a
+new one.  But I never got tired of drinkin' water yet.  Wisht I had a
+barrel with ice in it.  Gee Gosh!  Ice!  Mebby a cup of water would be
+enough for a fella, but when he's dry he sure likes to see lots ahead
+even if he can't drink it all.  Mebby it's jest knowin' it's there that
+kind o' eases up a fella's thirst.  I dunno."
+
+Romance, as romance was wont to do at intervals, lay in wait for the
+weary Sundown.  Hunger and thirst and a burning sun may not be
+immediately conducive to poetry or romantic imaginings.  But the 'dobe
+in the distance shaded by a clump of trees, the gleam of the drying
+chiles, the glow of flowers, offered an acceptable antithesis to the
+barren roadway and the empty mesas.  Sundown quickened his pace.  Eden,
+though circumscribed by a barb-wire fence enclosing scant territory,
+invited him to rest and refresh himself.  And all unexpected the
+immemorial Eve stood in the doorway of the 'dobe, gazing down the road
+and doubtless wondering why this itinerant Adam, booted and spurred,
+chose to walk the dusty highway.
+
+At the gate of the homestead Sundown paused and raised his broad
+sombrero.  Anita, dusky and buxom daughter of Chico Miguel, "the little
+hombre with the little herd," as the cattle-men described him, nodded a
+bashful acknowledgment of the salute, and spoke sharply to the dog
+which had risen and was bristling toward the Strange wayfarer.
+
+"Agua," said Sundown, opening the gate, "Mucha agua, Senorita," adding,
+with a humorous gesture of drinking, "I'm dry clean to me boots."
+
+The Mexican girl, slow-eyed and smiling, gazed at this most wonderful
+man, of such upstanding height that his hat brushed the limbs of the
+shade-trees at the gateway.  Anita was plump and not tall.  As Sundown
+stalked up the path assuming an air of gallantry that was not wasted on
+the desert air, the girl stepped to the olla hanging in the shade and
+offered him the gourd.  Sundown drank long and deep.  Anita watched him
+with wondering eyes.  Such a man she had never seen.  Vaqueros?  Ah,
+yes! many of them, but never such a man as this.  This one smiled, yet
+his face had much of the sadness in it.  He had perhaps walked many
+weary miles in the heat.  Would he--with a gesture interpreting her
+speech--be pleased to rest awhile?  Without hesitation, he would.  As
+he sat on the doorstep gazing contentedly at the flowers bordering the
+path, Anita's mother appeared from some mysterious recess of the 'dobe
+and questioned Anita with quick low utterance.  The girl's answer,
+interpretable to Sundown only by its intonation, was music to him.  The
+Mexican woman, more than buxom, large-eyed and placid, turned to
+Sundown, who rose and again doffed his sombrero.
+
+"I lost me horse--back there.  I'm headed for the Concho--ma'am.
+Concho," he reiterated in a louder tone.  "Sabe?"
+
+The mother of Anita nodded.  "You sick?" she asked.
+
+"What?  Me?  Not on your life, lady!  I'm the healthiest Ho--puncher in
+this here State.  You sabe Concho?"
+
+"Si!  Zhack Corlees--'Juan,' we say.  Si!  You of him?"
+
+"Yes, lady.  I'm workin' for him.  Lost me hoss."
+
+Anita and her mother exchanged glances.  Sundown felt that his status
+as a vaquero was in question.  Would he let the beautiful Anita know
+that he had been ignominiously "piled" by that pinto horse?  Not he.
+"Circumventions alters cases," he soliloquized, not altogether
+untruthfully.  Then aloud, "Me hoss put his foot in a gopher-hole.
+Bruk his leg, and I had to shoot him, lady.  Hated to part with him."
+And the inventive Sundown illustrated with telling gesture the
+imaginary accident.
+
+Sympathy flowed freely from the gentle-hearted Senora and her daughter.
+"Si!"  It was not of unusual happening that horses met with such
+accidents.  It was getting late in the afternoon.  Would the
+unfortunate caballero accept of their hospitality in the way of
+frijoles and some of the good coffee, perhaps?  Sundown would, without
+question.  He pressed a dollar into the palm of the reluctant Senora.
+He was not a tramp.  Of that she might be assured.  He had met with
+misfortune, that was all.  And would the patron return soon?  The
+patron would return with the setting of the sun.  Meanwhile the vaquero
+of the Concho was to rest and perhaps enjoy his cigarette?  And the
+"vaquero" loafed and smoked many cigarettes while the glowing eyes of
+Anita shone upon him with large sympathy.  As yet Sundown had not
+especially noticed her, but returning from his third visit to the
+cooling olla, he caught her glance and read, or imagined he read, deep
+admiration, lacking words to utter.  From that moment he became a
+changed man.  He shed his weariness as a tattered garment is thrown
+aside.  He straightened his shoulders and held his head high.  At last
+a woman had looked at him and had not smiled at his ungainly stature.
+Nay!  But rather seemed impressed, awe-stricken, amazed.  And his heart
+quickened to faster rhythm, driving the blood riotously through his
+imaginative mind.  He grew eloquent, in gesture, if not in speech.  He
+told of his wanderings, his arrival at the Concho, of Chance his great
+wolf-dog, his horse "Pill," and his good friends Bud Snoop and Hi
+Wangle.  Sundown could have easily given Othello himself "cards and
+spades" in this chance game of hearts and won--moving metaphor!--in a
+canter.  That the little Senorita with the large eyes did not
+understand more than a third of that which she heard made no difference
+to her.  His ambiguity of utterance, backed by assurance and illumined
+by the divine fire of inspiration, awakened curiosity in the placid
+breast of this Desdemona of the mesas.  It required no sophistication
+on her part to realize that this caballero was not as the vaqueros she
+had heretofore known.  He made no boorish jests; his eyes were not as
+the eyes of many that had gazed at her in a way that had tinged her
+dusky cheeks with warm resentment.  She felt that he was endeavoring to
+interest her, to please her rather than to woo.  And more than that--he
+seemed intensely interested in his own brave eloquence.  A child could
+have told that Sundown was single-hearted.  And with the instinct of a
+child--albeit eighteen, and quite a woman in her way--Anita approved of
+this adventurer as she had never approved of men, or man, before.  His
+great height, his long, sweeping arms, moving expansively as he
+illustrated this or that incident, his silver spurs, his loose-jointed
+"tout ensemble," so to speak, combined with an eloquent though puzzling
+manner of speech, fascinated her.  Warmed to his work, and forgetful of
+his employer's caution in regard to certain plans having to do with the
+water-hole ranch, Sundown elaborated, drawing heavily on future
+possibilities, among which he towered in imagination monarch of rich
+mellow acres and placid herds.  He intimated delicately that a
+rancher's life was lonely at best, and enriched the tender intimation
+with the assurance that he was more than fond of enchiladas, frijoles,
+carne-con-chile, tamales, adding as an afterthought that he was
+somewhat of an expert himself in "wrastlin' out" pies and doughnuts and
+various other gastronomical delicacies.
+
+A delicate frown touched the gentle Anita's smooth forehead when her
+mother interrupted Sundown with a steaming cup of coffee and a plate of
+frijoles, yet Anita realized, as she saw his ardent expression when the
+aroma of the coffee reached him, that this was a most sensible and
+fitting climax to his glowing discourse.  Her frown vanished together
+with the coffee and beans.
+
+Fortified by the strong black coffee and the nourishing frijoles,
+Sundown rose from his seat on the doorstep and betook himself to the
+back of the house where he labored with an axe until he had accumulated
+quite a pile of firewood.  Then he rolled up his sleeves, washed his
+hands, and asked permission to prepare the evening meal.  Although a
+little astonished, the Senora consented, and watched Sundown, at first
+with a smile of indulgence, then with awakening curiosity, and finally
+with frank and complimentary amazement as he deftly kneaded and rolled
+pie-crust and manufactured a pie that eventually had, for those
+immediately concerned, historical significance.
+
+The "little hombre," Chico Miguel, returning to his 'dobe that evening,
+was greeted with a tide of explanatory utterances that swept him off
+his feet.  He was introduced to Sundown, apprised of the strange
+guest's manifold accomplishments, and partook of the substantial
+evidence of his skill until of the erstwhile generous pie there was
+nothing left save tender reminiscence and replete satisfaction.
+
+Later in the evening, when the Arizona stars glowed and shimmered on
+the shadowy adobe, when the wide mesas grew mysteriously beautiful in
+the soft radiance of the slow moon, Chico Miguel brought his guitar
+from the bedroom, tuned it, and struck a swaying cadence from its
+strings.  Then Anita's voice, blending with the rhythm, made melody,
+and Sundown sat entranced.  Mood, environment, temperament, lent
+romance to the simple song.  Every singing string on the old guitar was
+silver--the singer's girlish voice a sunlit wave of gold.
+
+The bleak and almost barren lives of these isolated folk became
+illumined with a reminiscent glow as the tinkling notes of the guitar
+hushed to faint echoes of fairy bells hung on the silver boughs of
+starlit trees.  "Adios, linda Rosa," ran the song.  Then silence, the
+summer night, the myriad stars.
+
+Sundown, turning his head, gazed spellbound at the dark-eyed singing
+girl.  In the dim light of the lamp she saw that his lean cheeks were
+wet with tears.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+ON THE MESA
+
+With the morning sun came a brave, cloudless day and a more jovial mood
+to Sundown as he explained the necessity for haste to the Concho.
+Chico Miguel would gladly furnish horse and saddle.  Juan Corlees was
+of men the finest!  Once upon a time, in fact, Chico Miguel had ridden
+range for the father of Senor Corlees, but that was in years long past,
+Ah, yes!  Then there were no sheep in the country--nothing but cattle
+and vaqueros.  Would the caballero accept the loan of horse and saddle?
+The horse could be returned at his convenience.  And possibly--and here
+Chico Miguel paused to roll a cigarette, light it, and smoke awhile
+reflectively--and possibly the caballero would again make their humble
+home beautiful with his presence.  Such pie as the Senor made was a not
+unworthy meal for the saints.  Indeed, Chico Miguel himself had had
+many pleasant dreams following their feast of the evening before.
+Would Sundown condescend to grace their home with his presence again
+and soon?  Sundown would, be Gosh!  He sure did like music, especially
+them Spanish songs what made a fella kind of shivery and sad-like from
+his boots up.  And that part of the country looked good to him.  In
+fact he was willing to be thrun from--er--have his hoss step in a
+gopher-hole any day if the accident might terminate as pleasantly as
+had his late misfortune.  He aspired to become a master of the art of
+cooking Mexican dishes.  'Course at reg'lar plain-cookin' and deserts
+he wasn't such a slouch, but when it come to spreadin' the chile, he
+wasn't, as yet, an expert.
+
+Meanwhile he clung tenaciously to the few Spanish words he knew, added
+to which was "Linda Rosa"--"pretty rose,"--which he intended to use
+with telling effect when he made his adieux.  After breakfast he rose
+and disappeared.  When he again entered the house the keen Senora
+noticed that his shirt front swelled expansively just above his heart.
+She wondered if the tall one had helped himself to a few of her beloved
+chiles.
+
+Presently Chico Miguel appeared with the pony.  Sundown mounted,
+hesitated, and then nodded farewell to the Senora and the almost
+tearful Anita who stood in the doorway.  Things were not as Sundown
+would have had them.  He was long of arm and vigorous, but to cast a
+bouquet of hastily gathered and tied flowers from the gateway to the
+hand of the Senorita would require a longer arm and a surer aim than
+his.  "Gee Gosh!" he exclaimed, dismounting hurriedly.  "What's that on
+his hind foot?"
+
+He referred to the horse.  Chico Miguel, at the gate, hastened to
+examine the pony, but Sundown, realizing that the Senorita still stood
+beside her mother, must needs create further delay.  He stepped to the
+pony and, assuming an air of experience, reached to take up the horse's
+foot and examine it.  The horse, possibly realizing that its foot was
+sound, resented Sundown's solicitude.  The upshot--used advisedly--of
+it was that Sundown found himself sitting in the road and Chico Miguel
+struggling with the pony.
+
+With a scream Anita rushed to the gateway, wringing her hands as
+Sundown rose stiffly and felt of his shirt front.  The flowers that he
+had picked for his adored, were now literally pressed to his bosom.  He
+wondered if they "were mushed up much?"  Yet he was not unhappy.  His
+grand climax was at hand.  Again he mounted the pony, turned to the
+Senorita, and, drawing the more or less mangled blossoms from his
+shirt, presented them to her with sweeping gallantry.  Anita blushed
+and smiled.  Sundown raised his hat.  "Adios!  Adios!  Mucha adios!
+Senorita!  For you sure are the lindaest little linda rosa of the whole
+bunch!" he said.
+
+And with Anita standing in rapt admiration, Chico Miguel wondering if
+the kick of the horse had not unsettled the strange caballero's reason,
+and the Senora blandly aware that her daughter and the tall one had
+become adepts in interpreting the language of the eyes, Sundown rode
+away in a cloud of dust, triumphantly joyous, yet with a peculiar
+sensation in the region of his heart, where the horse had kicked him.
+When he realized that admiring eyes could not follow him forever, he
+checked the horse and rubbed his chest.
+
+"It hurts, all right! but hoss-shoes is a sign of _luck_--and posies is
+a sign of _love_--and them two signs sure come together this mornin'.
+'Oh, down in Arizona there's a--'  No, I reckon I won't be temptin'
+Providence ag'in.  This hoss might have some kind of a dislikin' for
+toad-lizards and po'try mixed, same as the other one.  I can jest kind
+o' work the rest of that poem up inside and keep her on the ice
+till--er--till she's the right flavor.  Wonder how they're makin' it at
+the Concho?  Guess I'll stir along.  Mebby they're waitin' for me to
+show up so's they can get busy.  I dunno.  It sure is wonderful what a
+lot is dependin' on me these here days.  I'm gettin' to be kind of a
+center figure in this here country.  Lemme see.  Now I bruk
+jail--hopped the Limited, took out me homesteader papers, got thrun off
+a hoss, slumped right into love with that sure-enough Linda Rosa, and
+got kicked by another hoss.  And they say I ain't a enterprisin' guy!
+Gee Gosh!"
+
+Never so much at home as when alone, the mellifluous Sundown's
+imagination expanded, till it embraced the farthest outpost of his
+theme.  He became the towering center of things terrestrial.  The world
+revolved around but one individual that glorious morning, and he
+generously decided to let it revolve.  He felt--being, for the first
+time in his weird career, very much in love--that Dame Fortune, so long
+indifferent to his modest aspirations, had at last recognized in him a
+true adventurer worthy of her grace.  He was a remarkable man,
+physically.  He considered himself a remarkable man mentally, and he
+was, in Arizona.  "Why," he announced to his horse, "they's folks as
+says they ain't no romantics left in this here world!  Huh!  Some of
+them writin' folks oughter jest trail my smoke for a week, instead o'
+settin' in clubs and drinkin' high-balls and expectin' them high-balls
+to put 'em wise to real life!  Huh!  A fella's got to sweat it out
+himself.  The kind of romantics that comes in a bottle ain't the real
+thing.  Pickles is all right, but they ain't cucumbers, nohow.  Wisht I
+had one--and some salt.  The stories them guys write is like pickles,
+jest two kinds of flavor, sweet and sour.  Now, when I write me life's
+history she'll be a cucumber sliced thin with a few of them little red
+chiles to kind o' give the right kick, and mebby a leetle onion
+representin' me sentiment, and salt to draw out the proper taste, and
+'bout three drops o' vinegar standin' for hard luck, and the hull thing
+fixed tasty-like on a lettuce leaf, the crinkles representin' the
+mountings and valleys of this here world, and me name on the cover in
+red with gold edges.  Gee Gosh!"
+
+The creak of the saddle, the tinkle of his spurs, the springy stride of
+the horse furnished a truly pastoral accompaniment to Sundown's
+"romantics."
+
+As he rode down a draw, he came suddenly upon two coyotes playing like
+puppies in the sun.  He reined up and watched them, and his heart
+warmed to their antics.  "Now, 'most any fella ridin' range would
+nacherally pull his gun and bling at 'em.  What for?  Search me!  They
+ain't botherin' nobody.  Jest playin'.  Guess 'most any animals like to
+play if they wasn't scared o' gettin' shot all the time.  Funny how
+some folks got to kill everything they see runnin' wild.  What's the
+use?  Now, mebby them coyotes is a pa and ma thinkin' o' settin' up
+ranchin' and raisin' alfalfa and young ones.  Or mebby he's just
+a-courtin' her and showin' how he can run and jump better than any
+other coyote she ever seen.  I dunno.  There they go.  Guess they seen
+me.  Say! but they are jest floatin' across the mesa--they ain't
+runnin'.  Goin' easy, like their legs belonged to somebody else and
+they was jest keepin' up with 'em.  So-long, folks!  Here's hopin' you
+get settled on that coyote-ranch all right!"
+
+Thus far on his journey Sundown had enjoyed the pleasing local flavor
+of the morning and his imaginings.  The vinegar, which was to represent
+"hard luck," had not as yet been added to the salad.
+
+As he ascended the gentle slope of the draw he heard a quick, blunt
+sound, as though some one had struck a drum and immediately muffled the
+reverberations with the hand.  He was too deeply immersed in himself to
+pay much attention to this.  Topping the rise, the fresh vista of
+rolling mesa, the far blue hills, and a white dot--the distant
+Concho--awakened him to a realization of his whereabouts.  Again he
+heard that peculiar, dull sound.  He lifted his horse to a lope and
+swept along, the dancing shadow at his side shortening as noon overtook
+him.  He was about to dismount and partake of the luncheon the kindly
+Senora had prepared for him, when he changed his mind.  "Lunch and
+hunch makes a rhyme," he announced.  "And I got 'em both.  Guess I'll
+jog along and eat at the Concho.  Mebby I'll get there in two, three
+hours."
+
+As the white dot took on a familiar outline and the eastern wall of the
+canon of the Concho showed sharply against the sky, he saw a horseman,
+strangely doubled up in the saddle, riding across the mesa toward the
+ranch-house.  Evidently he also was going to the Concho.  Possibly it
+was Bud, or Hi Wingle, or Lone Johnny.  Following an interval of
+attending strictly to the trail he raised his eyes.  He pulled his
+horse up and sat blinking.  Where there had been a horse and rider
+there was but the horse, standing with lowered head.  He shaded his
+eyes with his palm and gazed again.  There stood the horse.  The man
+had disappeared.  "Fell into one of them Injun graves," remarked
+Sundown.  "Guess I'll go see."
+
+It took much longer than he had anticipated to come up with the
+riderless horse.  He recognized it as one of the Concho ponies.  Almost
+beneath the animal lay a huddled something.  Sundown's scalp tingled.
+Slowly he got from his horse and stalked across the intervening space.
+He led the pony from the tumbled shape on the ground.  Then he knelt
+and raised the man's shoulders.  Sinker, one of the Concho riders,
+groaned and tore at the shirt over his stomach.  Then Sundown knew.  He
+eased the cowboy back and called his name.  Slowly the gray lids
+opened.  "It's me, Sundown!  Who done it?"
+
+The cowboy tried to rise on his elbow.  Sundown supported his head,
+questioning him, for he knew that Sinker had but little time left to
+speak.  The wounded man writhed impotently, then quieted.
+
+"God, Sun!" he moaned, "they got me.  Tell Jack--Mexican--Loring--sheep
+at--waterhole.  Tried to bluff--'em off--orders not to shoot.  They got
+orders to shoot--all right.  Tell Jack--Guess I'm bleedin'
+inside--So-long--pardner."
+
+The dying man writhed from Sundown's arms and rolled to his face,
+cursing and clutching at the grass in agony.  Sundown stood over him,
+his hat off, his gaze lifted toward the cloudless sky, his face white
+with a new and strange emotion.  He raised his long arms and clenched
+his hands.  "God A'mighty," he whispered, rocking back and forth, "I
+got to tell You that sech things is _wrong_.  And from what I seen
+sence I come to this country, You don't care.  But some of us does
+care . . . and I reckon we got to do somethin' if You don't."
+
+[Illustration: "God A'mighty, sech things is wrong."]
+
+The cowboy raised himself on rigid arms, he lifted his head, and his
+eyes, filmed with the chill of death, grew clear for an instant.
+"'Sandro--the herder--got me," he gasped.  His lips writhed back from
+his clenched teeth.  A rush of blood choked him.  He sank to the
+ground, quivered, and was still.
+
+"'Sandro . . . the herder" . . . whispered Sundown.  "Sinker was me
+friend.  I reckon God's got to leave the finish of this to me."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+WAIT!
+
+To see a man's life go out and to stand by unable to help, unable to
+offer comfort or ease mortal agony, is a bitter experience.  It brings
+the beholder close to the abyss of eternity, wherein the world shrinks
+to a speck of whirling dust and the sun is but a needle-point of light.
+Then it is that the fleshless face of the unconquerable One leans close
+and whispers, not to the insensate clay that mocks the living, but to
+the impotent soul that mourns the dead.
+
+That Sundown should consider himself morally bound to become one of
+those who he knew would avenge the killing of the cowboy, and without
+recourse to law, was not altogether strange.  The iron had entered his
+soul.  Heretofore at loose ends with the world, the finding of Sinker,
+dying on the mesas, kindled within him righteous wrath against the
+circumstance rather than the individual slayer.  His meandering
+thoughts and emotions became crystallized.  His energies hardened to a
+set purpose.  He was obsessed with a fanaticism akin to that of those
+who had burned witches and thanked their Maker for the opportunity.
+
+In his simple way he wondered why he had not wept.  He rode slowly to
+the Concho.  Chance leaped circling about his horse.  He greeted the
+dog with a word.  When he dismounted, Chance cringed and crept to him.
+Without question this was his master, and yet there was something in
+Sundown's attitude that silenced the dog's joyous welcoming.  Chance
+sat on his haunches, whined, and did his best by his own attitude to
+show that he was in sympathy with his master's strange mood.
+
+John Corliss saw instantly that there was something wrong, and his
+hearty greeting lapsed into terse questioning.  Sundown pointed toward
+the northern mesas.
+
+"What's up?" he queried.
+
+"Sinker--he's dead--over there."
+
+"Sinker?"  Corliss ran to the corral, calling to Wingle, who came from
+the bunk-house.  The cook whisked off his apron, grabbed his hat, and
+followed Corliss.  "Sinker's done for!" said Corliss.  "Saddle up, Hi.
+Sun found him out there.  Must have had trouble at the water-hole.  I
+should have sent another man with him."
+
+Wingle, with the taciturnity of the plainsman, jerked the cinchas tight
+and swung to the saddle.  Sinker's death had come like a white-hot
+flash of lightning from the bulked clouds that had shadowed disaster
+impending--and in that shadow the three men rode silently toward the
+north.  Again Corliss questioned Sundown.  Tense with the stress of an
+emotion that all but sealed his lips, Sundown turned his white face to
+Corliss and whispered, "Wait!"  The rancher felt that that one terse,
+whispered word implied more than he cared to imagine.  There was
+something uncanny about the man.  If the killing of Sinker could so
+change the timorous, kindly Sundown to this grim, unbending epitome of
+lean death and vengeance, what could he himself do to check the wild
+fury of his riders when they heard of their companion's passing from
+the sun?
+
+Sinker's horse, grazing, lifted its head and nickered as they rode up.
+They dismounted and turned the body over.  Wingle, kneeling, examined
+the cowboy's six-gun.
+
+Corliss, in a burst of wrath, turned on Sundown.  "Damn you, open your
+mouth.  What do you know about this?"
+
+Sundown bit his nails and glowered at Corliss.  "God A'mighty sent
+me--" he began.
+
+With a swift gesture Corliss interrupted.  "You're working for the
+Concho.  Was he dead when you found him?"
+
+Sundown slowly raised his arm and pointed across the mesa.
+
+Corliss fingered his belt and bit his lip impatiently.
+
+"A herder--over there to my ranch--done it.  Sinker told me--'fore he
+crossed over.  Said it was 'Sandro.  Said he had orders not to shoot.
+He tried to bluff 'em off, for they was bringin' sheep to the
+water-hole.  He said to tell you."
+
+Corliss and Wingle turned from looking at Sundown and gazed at each
+other.  "If that's right--"  And the rancher hesitated.
+
+"I reckon it's right," said Wingle.  And he stooped and together they
+lifted the body and laid it across the cowboy's horse.
+
+Sundown watched them with burning eyes.  "We'll ride back home," said
+Corliss, motioning to him.
+
+"Home?  Ain't you goin' to do nothin'?"
+
+Corliss shook his head.  Sundown slowly mounted and followed them to
+the Concho.  He watched them as they carried Sinker to the bunkhouse.
+
+When Corliss reappeared, Sundown strode up to him.  "This here hoss
+belongs to that leetle Mexican on the Apache road, Chico Miguel--said
+you knowed him.  I was goin' to take him back with my hoss.  Now I
+reckon I can't.  I kind o' liked it over there to his place.  I guess I
+want my own hoss, Pill."
+
+"I guess you better get something to eat and rest up.  You're in bad
+shape, Sun."
+
+Sundown shook his head.  "I got somethin' to do--after that mebby I can
+rest up.  Can I have me hoss?"
+
+"Yes, if it'll do you any good.  What are you going to do?"
+
+"I got me homesteader papers.  I'm goin' to me ranch."
+
+"But you're not outfitted.  There's no grub there.  You better take it
+easy.  You'll feel better to-morrow."
+
+"I don't need no outfit.  I reckon I'll saddle Pill."
+
+Sundown turned the Mexican's pony into the corral and saddled his own
+horse which he led to the bunk-house.  "I ain't got no gun," he said.
+"The sheriff gent's got mine.  Mebby you'd be lendin' me one?"
+
+Wingle stepped to the doorway and stood beside Corliss.  "What does he
+want, Jack?"
+
+"He's loco.  Wants to borrow a gun."  The rancher turned to Sundown.
+"See here, Sun, there's no use thinking you've got to take a hand in
+this.  Some of the boys'll get the Mexican sure!  I can't stop them,
+but I don't want you to get in trouble."
+
+"No.  You come on in and eat," said Wingle.  "You got a touch of sun, I
+guess."
+
+Sundown mounted.  "Ain't you goin' to do nothin'?" he asked again.
+
+Corliss and Wingle glanced at each other.  "No, not now."
+
+"Then me and Chance is," said Sundown.  "Come on, Chance."
+
+Corliss and the cook watched the tall figure as it passed through the
+gateway and out to the mesa.  "I'll go head him off, if you say the
+word, Jack."
+
+Corliss made a negative gesture.  "He'll come back when he gets hungry.
+It's a long ride to the water-hole.  Sinker had sand to get as near
+home as he did.  It's going to be straight hell from now on, Hi."
+
+Wingle nodded.  Through force of habit he reached for his apron to wipe
+his hand--his invariable preliminary before he shook hands with any
+one.  His apron being off, he hesitated, then stepped to his employer.
+"It sure is," he said, "and I'm ridin' with you."
+
+They shook hands.  Moved by a mutual impulse they glanced at the long,
+rigid shape covered with a blanket.  "When the boys come--" began
+Wingle.
+
+"It will be out of our hands," concluded Corliss.
+
+"If Sun--"
+
+"I ought to ride out after him," said Corliss, nodding.  "But I can't
+leave.  And you can't."
+
+Wingle stepped to the doorway and shaded his eyes.  Far out on the mesa
+the diminishing figure of a horseman showed black against the glare of
+the sun.  Wingle turned and, with a glance at the shrouded figure on
+the bunk-house floor, donned his apron and shuffled to the kitchen.
+Corliss tied his horse and strode to the office.
+
+Hi Wingle puttered about the kitchen.  There would be supper to get for
+fifteen hungry--No! fourteen, to-night.  He paused, set down the pan
+that he held and opened the door of the chuck-room.  With finger
+marking the count he totaled the number of chairs at the table.
+Fifteen.  Then he stepped softly to the bunk-room, took Sinker's hat
+and stepped back to the table.  He placed the hat on the dead cowboy's
+chair.  Then he closed the door and turned to the preparation of the
+evening meal.  "Jack'll report to Antelope and try and keep the boys
+quiet.  I'm sure with Jack--only I was a puncher first afore I took to
+cookin'.  And I'm a puncher yet--inside."  Which was his singular and
+only spoken tribute to the memory of Sinker.  He had reasoned that it
+was only right and fitting that the slayer of a cowman should be slain
+by a cowman--a code that held good in his time and would hold good
+now--especially when the boys saw the battered Stetson, every line of
+which was mutely eloquent of its owner's individuality.
+
+Sundown drifted through the afternoon solitudes, his mind dulled by the
+monotony of the theme which obsessed him.  It was evening when he
+reached the water-hole.  Around the enclosure straggled a few stray
+sheep.  He cautioned Chance against molesting them.  Ordinarily he
+would have approached the ranch-house timidly, but he was beyond fear.
+He rode to the gate, tied his horse, and stepped to the doorway.  The
+door was open.  He entered and struck a match.  In the dusk he saw that
+the room was empty save for a tarpaulin and a pair of rawhide kyacks
+such as the herders use.  Examining the kyacks he found that they
+contained flour, beans, salt, sugar, and coffee.  Evidently the herders
+had intended making the deserted ranch-house their headquarters.  He
+wondered vaguely where the Mexicans were.  The thought that they might
+return did not worry him.  He knew what he would do in that instance.
+He would find out which one was 'Sandro . . . and then . . .
+
+The bleating of the stray sheep annoyed him.  He told Chance to stay in
+the room.  Then he stalked out and opened the gate.  "Mebby they want
+water.  I dunno.  Them's Loring's sheep, all right, but they ain't to
+blame for--for Sinker."  With the idea came a more reasonable mood.
+The sheep were not to blame for the killing of Sinker.  The sheep
+belonged to Loring.  The herders, also, practically belonged to Loring.
+They were only following his bidding when they protected the sheep.
+With such reasoning he finally concluded that Loring, not his herder,
+was responsible for the cowboy's death.  He returned to the house,
+built a fire, and cooked an indifferent meal.
+
+
+Sundown sat up suddenly.  In the dim light of the moon flickering
+through the dusty panes he saw Chance standing close to the door with
+neck bristling and head lowered.  Throwing back his blanket he rose and
+whispered to the dog.  Chance came to him obediently.  Sundown saw that
+the dog was trembling.  He motioned him back and stepped to the door.
+His slumbers had served to restore him to himself in a measure.  His
+old timidity became manifest as he hesitated, listening.  In the
+absolute silence of the night he thought he heard a shuffling as of
+something being dragged across the enclosure.  Tense with anticipating
+he knew not what, he listened.  Again he heard that peculiar slithering
+sound.  He opened the door an inch and peered out.  In the pallid glow
+of the moon he beheld a shapeless object that seemed to be crawling
+toward him.  Something in the helpless attitude of the object suggested
+Sinker as he had risen on his arm, endeavoring to tell of the disaster
+which had overtaken him.  With a gesture of scorn at his own fear he
+swung open the door.  Chance crept at his heels, whining.  Then Sundown
+stepped out and stood gazing at the strange figure on the ground.  Not
+until a groan of agony broke the utter silence did he realize that the
+night had brought to him a man, wounded and suffering terribly.  "Who
+are you?" he questioned, stooping above the man.  The other dragged
+himself to Sundown's feet and clawed at his knees.  "'Sandro . . .  It
+is--that I--die.  You don' keel . . .  You don' . . ."
+
+Sundown dragged the herder to the house and into the bedroom.  He got
+water, for which the herder called piteously.  With his own blanket he
+made him as comfortable as he could.  Then he built a fire that he
+might have light.  The herder was shot through the thigh, and had all
+but bled to death dragging himself across the mesa from where he had
+fallen from his horse.  Sundown tried to stop the bleeding with strips
+torn from his bandanna.  Meanwhile the wounded man was imploring him
+not to kill him.
+
+"I'm doin' me best to fix you up, Dago," said Sundown.  "But you better
+go ahead and say them prayers--and you might put in a couple for Sinker
+what you shot.  I reckon his slug cut the big vein and you got to go.
+Wisht I could do somethin' . . . to help . . . you stay . . . but mebby
+it's better that you cross over easy.  Then the boys don't get you."
+
+The Mexican seemed to understand.  He nodded as he lay gazing at the
+lean figure illumined by the dancing light of the open stove.  "Si.
+You good hombre, si," he gasped.
+
+Sundown frowned.  "Now, don't you take any idea like that along to
+glory with you.  Sinker--what you shot--was me friend.  I ought to kill
+you like a snake.  But God A'mighty took the job off me hands.  I
+reckon that makes me square with--with Sinker--and Him."
+
+Again Sundown brought water to the herder.  Gently he raised his head
+and held the cup to his lips.  Chance stood in the middle of the room
+strangely subdued, yet he watched each movement of his master with
+alert eyes.  The moonlight faded from the window and the fire died
+down.  The air became chill as the faint light of dawn crept in to
+emphasize the ghastly picture--the barren, rough-boarded room, the
+rusted stove, the towering figure of Sundown, impassively waiting; and
+the shattered, shrunken figure of the Mexican, hopeless and helpless,
+as the morning mesas welcomed the golden glow of dawn and a new day.
+
+The herder, despite his apparent torpor, was the first to hear the
+faint thud of hoofs in the loose sand of the roadway.  He grew
+instantly alert, raising himself on his elbow and gazing with fear-wide
+eyes toward the south.
+
+Sundown nodded.  "It's the boys," he said, as though speaking to
+himself.  "I was hopin' he could die easy.  I dunno."
+
+'Sandro raised his hands and implored Sundown to save him from the
+riders.  Sundown stepped to the window.  He saw the flash of spurs and
+bits as a group of the Concho boys swept down the road.  One of them
+was leading a riderless horse.  In a flash he realized that they had
+found the herder's horse and had tracked 'Sandro to the water-hole.  He
+backed away from the window and reaching down took the Mexican's gun
+from its holster.  "'T ain't what I figured on," he muttered.  "They's
+me friends, but this is me ranch."
+
+With a rush and a slither of hoofs in the loose sand the Concho riders,
+headed by Shoop, swung up to the gate and dismounted.  Sundown stepped
+to the doorway, Chance beside him.
+
+Shoop glanced quickly at the silent figure.  Then his gaze drifted to
+the ground.
+
+"'Mornin', Sun!  Seen anybody 'round here this mornin'?"
+
+"Mornin', fellas.  Nope.  Just me and Chance."
+
+The men hesitated, eyeing Sundown suspiciously.
+
+Corliss stepped toward the ranch-house.
+
+"Guess we'll look in," he said, and stepped past Shoop.
+
+Sundown had closed the door of the bedroom.  He was at a loss to
+prevent the men entering the house, but once within the house he
+determined that they should not enter the bedroom.
+
+He backed toward it and stood with one shoulder against the lintel.
+"Come right in.  I ain't got to housekeepin' yet, but . . ."
+
+He ceased speaking as he saw Corliss's gaze fixed on the kyacks.
+"Where did you get 'em?" queried the rancher.
+
+The men crowded in and gazed curiously at the kyacks--then at Sundown.
+
+Shoop strode forward.  "The game's up, Sun.  We want the Mexican."
+
+"This is me ranch," said Sundown.  "I got the papers--here.  You fellas
+is sure welcome--only they ain't goin' to be no shootin' or such-like.
+I ain't joshin' this time."
+
+A voice broke the succeeding silence.  "If the Mexican is in there, we
+want him--that's all."
+
+Sundown's eyes became bright with a peculiar expression.  Slowly--yet
+before any one could realize his intent--he reached down and drew the
+Mexican's gun.  "You're me friends," he said quietly.  "He's in
+there--dyin'.  I reckon Sinker got him.  He drug himself here last
+night and I took him in.  This is me home--and if you fellas is _men_,
+you'll let him die easy and quiet."
+
+"I'm from Missouri," said Shoop, with a hard laugh.  "You got to show
+me that he's--like you say, or--"
+
+Sundown leveled his gun at Shoop.  "I ain't lyin' to you, Bud.  Sinker
+was me friend.  And I ain't lyin' when I says that the fust fella that
+tries to tech him crosses over afore he does."
+
+Some one laughed.  Corliss touched Shoop's arm and whispered to him.
+With a curse the foreman turned and the men clumped out to the yard.
+
+"He's right," said Corliss.  "We'll wait."
+
+They stood around talking and commenting upon Sundown's defense of the
+Mexican.
+
+"'Course we could 'a' got him," said Shoop, "but it don't set right
+with me to be stood up by a tenderfoot.  Sundown's sure loco."
+
+"I don't know, Bud.  He's queer, all right, but this is his ranch.
+He's got a right to order us out."
+
+Shoop was about to retort when Sundown came to the doorway.  "I guess
+you can come in now," he said.  "And you won't need no gun."  The men
+shuffled awkwardly, and finally led by Corliss they filed into the room
+and one by one they stepped to the open door of the bedroom and gazed
+within.  Then they filed out silently.
+
+"I'll send over some grub," said Corliss as they mounted.  Sundown
+nodded.
+
+The band of riders moved slowly back toward the Concho.  About halfway
+on their homeward journey they met Loring in a buckboard.  The old
+sheep-man drove up and would have passed them without speaking had not
+Corliss reined across the road and halted him.
+
+"One of your herders--'Sandro--is over at the water-hole," said
+Corliss.  "If you're headed for Antelope, you might stop by and take
+him along."
+
+Loring glared at the Concho riders, seemed about to speak, but instead
+clucked to his team.  The riders reined out of his way and he swept
+past, gazing straight ahead, grim, silent, and utterly without fear.
+He understood the rancher's brief statement, and he already knew of the
+killing of Sinker.  'Sandro's assistant, becoming frightened, had left
+his wounded companion on the mesas, and had ridden to the Loring rancho
+with the story of the fight and its ending.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+THE PEACEMAKER
+
+"But I ain't no dove--more like a stork, I guess," reflected Sundown as
+he stood in the doorway of his house.  "And storks brings
+responsibilities in baskets, instead of olive branches.  No wonder ole
+man Noah fired the dove right out ag'in--bringin' him olives what
+wa'n't pickled, instead of a bunch of grapes or somethin' you can eat!
+And that there dove never come back.  I reckon he figured if he did,
+ole man Noah'd shoot him.  Anyhow, if I ain't no dove of peace, I'm
+goin' to do the best I can.  Everybody 'round here seems like they was
+tryin' to ride right into trouble wishful, 'stead of reinin' to one
+side an' givin' trouble a chance to get past.  Gee Gosh!  If I'd 'a'
+knowed what I know now--afore I hit this country--but I'm here.
+Anyhow, they's nothin' wrong with the country.  It's the folks, like it
+'most always is.  Reckon I ought to keep on buildin' fence this
+mornin', but that there peace idea 's got to singin' in me head.  I'll
+jest saddle up Pill and ride over and tell ole man Loring that I'm
+takin' care of his sheep charitable what's been hangin' around here
+since 'Sandro passed over.  Mebby that'll kind o' start the talk.  Then
+I can slip him a couple of ideas 'bout how neighbors ought to act.
+Huh!  Me nussin' them sheep for two weeks and more, an' me just dyin'
+for a leetle taste o' mutton.  Mebby his herders was scared to come for
+'em, I dunno."
+
+
+Sundown was established at the water-hole.  Corliss had sent a team to
+Antelope for provisions, implements, and fencing.  Meanwhile, Sundown
+had been industrious, not alone because he felt the necessity for
+something to occupy his time, but that he wanted to forget the tragedy
+he had so recently witnessed.  And he had dreams of a more
+companionable future which included Mexican dishes served hot, evenings
+of blissful indolence accompanied by melody, and a Senora who would
+sing "Linda Rosa, Adios!" which would be the "piece de resistance" of
+his pastoral menu.
+
+The "tame cow," which he had so ardently longed for, now grazed
+soulfully in a temporary enclosure out on the mesa.  Two young and
+sprightly black pigs prospected the confines of their littered
+hermitage.  Four gaunt hens and a more or less dilapidated rooster
+stalked about the yard, no longer afraid of the watchful Chance, who
+had previously introduced himself to the rooster without the formality
+of Sundown's presence as mediator.  Sundown was proud of his chickens.
+The cow, however, had been, at first, rather a disappointment to him.
+Milk had not heretofore been a conspicuous portion of Sundown's diet,
+nor was he versed in the art of obtaining it except over the counter in
+tins.  With due formality and some trepidation he had placed a pail
+beneath "Gentle Annie" as he called her, and had waited patiently.  So
+had Gentle Annie, munching a reflective cud, and Sundown, in a
+metaphorical sense, doing likewise.  He had walked around the cow
+inspecting her with an anxious and critical eye.  She seemed healthful
+and voluptuously contented.  Yet no milk came.  Bud Shoop, having at
+that moment arrived with the team, sized up the situation.  When he had
+recovered enough poise to stand without assistance and had wiped the
+wild tears from his eyes, he instructed the amazed Sundown as to
+certain manipulations necessary to produce the desired result.  "Huh!
+Folks says cows _give_ milk.  But I reckon that ain't right," Sundown
+had asserted.  "You got to take it away from 'em."  So he had taken
+what he could, which was not, at first, a great deal.
+
+This momentous morning he had decided that his unsolicited mission was
+to induce or persuade Loring to arbitrate the question of
+grazing-rights.  It was a strange idea, although not incompatible with
+Sundown's peculiar temperament.  He felt justified in taking the
+initiative; especially in view of the fact that Loring's sheep had been
+trespassing on his property.
+
+He saddled "Pill," and called to Chance.  "See here, Chance, you and
+me's pals.  No, you ain't comin' this trip.  You stick around and keep
+your eye on me stock.  What's mine is yourn exceptin' the rooster.
+Speakin' poetical, he belongs to them hens.  If he ain't here when I
+get back, I can pretty nigh tell by the leavin's where he is.  When I
+git back I look to find you hungry, sabe?  And not sneakin' around
+lookin' at me edgeways with leetle feathers stickin' to your nose.  I
+reckon you understand."
+
+Chance followed his master to the road, and there the dog sat gazing at
+the bobbing figure of Sundown until it was but a speck in the morning
+sunshine.  Then Chance fell to scratching his ear with his hind foot,
+rose and shook himself, and stalked indolently to the yard where he lay
+with his nose along his outstretched fore legs, watching the proscribed
+rooster with an eloquence of expression that illustrated the proverbial
+power of mind over matter.
+
+Sundown kept Pill loping steadily.  It was a long ride, but Sundown's
+mind was so preoccupied with the preparing of his proposed appeal to
+the sheep-man that the morning hours and the sunlit miles swept past
+unnoticed.  The dark green of the acacias bordering the hacienda, the
+twinkling white of the speeding windmill, and the dull brown of the
+adobes became distinct and separate colors against the far edge of the
+eastern sky.  He reined his pony to a walk.  "When you're in a hurry to
+do somethin'," he informed his horse, "it ain't always good politics to
+let folks know it.  So we'll ride up easy, like we had money to spend,
+and was jest lookin' over the show-case."  And Pill was not averse to
+the suggestion.
+
+Sundown dismounted, opened the gate, and swinging to the saddle, rode
+up to the ranch-house.  Had he known that Anita, the daughter of Chico
+Miguel, was at that moment talking with the wife of one of Loring's
+herders; that she was describing him in glowing terms to her friend,
+and moreover, as he passed up the driveway, that Anita had turned
+swiftly, dropping the pitcher of milk which she had just brought from
+the cooling-room as she saw him, he might well have been excused from
+promulgating his mission of peace with any degree of coherence.
+Sublimely ignorant of her presence,--spiritualists and sentimentalists
+to the contrary in like instances,--he rode directly to the hacienda,
+asked for the patron, and was shown to the cool interior of the house
+by the mildly astonished Senora.  Senor Loring would return presently.
+Would the gentleman refresh himself by resting until the Senor
+returned?  Possibly she herself could receive the message--or the
+Senorita, who was in the garden?
+
+"Thanks, lady.  I reckon Pill is dry--wants a drink--agua--got a
+thirst.  No, ma'am.  I can wait.  I mean me horse."
+
+"Oh!  Si!  But Juan would attend to the horse and at once."
+
+"Thanks, lady.  And if Miss Loring ain't too busy, I reckon I'd like to
+see her a minute."
+
+The Senora disappeared.  Sundown could hear her call for Juan.
+Presently Nell Loring came to the room, checked an exclamation of
+surprise as she recognized him, and stepping forward, offered her hand.
+"You're from Mr. Corliss.  I remember. . . .  Is Chance all right now?"
+
+"Yes, ma'am.  He is enjoyin' fust-rate health.  He eats reg'lar--and
+rabbits in between.  But I ain't from the Concho, lady.  I'm from me
+own ranch, down there at the water-hole.  Me boss ain't got nothin' to
+do with me bein' here.  It's me own idea.  I come friendly and wishful
+to make a little talk to your pa."
+
+Wondering what could have induced Sundown to call at her home,
+especially under the existing circumstances, Nell Loring made him
+welcome.  After he had washed and strolled over to the stables to see
+to his horse.  Sundown, returning, declined an invitation to come in,
+and sat on the veranda, smoking cigarettes and making mental note of
+the exterior details of the hacienda: its garden, shade-trees, corrals,
+and windmill.  Should prosperity smile upon him, he would have a
+windmill, be Gosh!  Not a white one--though white wasn't so bad--but
+something tasty; red, white and blue, mebby--a real American windmill,
+and in the front of the house a flagpole with the American flag.  And
+he would keep the sign "American Hotel" above the gate.  There was
+nothin' like bein' paterotic.  Mexican ranches--some of 'em--was purty
+enough in a lazy kind of style, but he was goin' to let folks know that
+a white man was runnin' the water-hole ranch!
+
+And all unknown to him, Anita stood in the doorway of one of the
+herder's 'dobes, more than ever impressed by the evident importance of
+her beau-ideal of chivalry, who took the kick of horses as a matter of
+course, and rose smilingly from such indignities to present flowers to
+her with eyes which spake of love and lips that expressed, as best they
+could, admiration.  Anita was a bit disappointed and perhaps a bit
+pleased that he had not as yet seen her.  As it was she could worship
+from a distance that lent security to her tender embarrassment.  The
+tall one must, indeed, be a great caballero to be made welcome at the
+patron's home.  Assuredly he was not as the other vaqueros who visited
+the patron.  _He_ sat upon the veranda and smoked in a lordly way,
+while they inevitably held forth in the less conspicuous latitude of
+the bunk-house and its environs.  Anita was happy.
+
+Sundown, elated by the righteousness of his mission as harbinger of
+peace, met Loring returning from one of the camps with gracious
+indifference to the other's gruff welcome.
+
+They sat at the table and ate in silence for a while.  With the
+refreshing coffee Sundown's embarrassment melted.  His weird command of
+language, enhanced by the opportunity for exercise in a good cause,
+astonished and eventually interested his hearers.  He did not approach
+his subject directly, but mounted the metaphorical steps of his rostrum
+leisurely.  He discoursed on the opportunities afforded by the almost
+limitless free range.  He hinted at the possibility of internecine
+strife eventually awakening the cupidity of "land-sharks" all over the
+country.  If there was land worth killing folks for, there was land
+worth stealing.  If the Concho Valley was once thrown open to
+homesteaders, then farewell free range and fat cattle and sheep.  And
+the mention of sheep led him to remark that there was a small band at
+the water-hole, uncared-for save by himself.  "And he was no sheep-man,
+but he sure hated to see any critters sufferin' for water, so he had
+allowed the sheep to drink at the water-hole."  Then he paused,
+anticipating the obvious question to which he made answer: "Yes.  The
+water-hole ranch is me ranch.  I filed on her the same day that you and
+Miss Loring come to Usher.  Incondescent to that I was in the calaboose
+at Antelope.  Somebody tole the sheriff that I was a suspicious
+character.  Mebby I am, judgin' from the outside, but inside I ain't.
+You can't always tell what the works is like by the case, I ain't got
+no hard feelin's for nobody, and I'm wishful that folks don't have no
+hard feelin's ag'in' me or anybody else."
+
+Loring listened in silence.  Finally he spoke.  "I'll take care of my
+sheep.  I'll send for 'em to-day.  Looks like you're tryin' to play
+square, but you don't figure in this deal.  Jack Corliss is at the
+bottom of it and he's using you.  And he'll use you hard.  What you
+goin' to do with the overflow from the water-hole?"
+
+"I'm goin' to irrigate me ranch," said Sundown.
+
+Loring nodded.  "And cut off the water from everybody?"
+
+"Not from me friends."
+
+"Which means the Concho."
+
+"Sure!  Jack Corliss is me friend.  But that ain't all.  If you want to
+be me friend, I ain't kickin' even if you did tell the sheriff he ought
+to git acquainted with me closer.  I'm goin' to speak right out.  I
+reckon it's the best way.  I got a proposition.  If you'll quit sickin'
+them herders onto cowboys and if Jack'll quit settin' the punchers at
+your herders, I'll open up me spring and run her down to where they's
+water for everybody.  If cows comes, they drink.  If sheep comes,
+_they_ drink.  If folks comes, they drink, likewise.  But no fightin'."
+
+Sundown as arbiter of peace felt that he had, in truth, "spoken right
+out."  He was not a little surprised at himself and a bit fearful.  Yet
+he felt justified in his suggestion.  Theoretically he had made a fair
+offer.  Practically his offer was of no value.  Sheep and cattle could
+not occupy the same range.  Loring grumbled something and shoved back
+his chair.  They rose and stepped to the veranda.
+
+"If you can get Corliss to agree to what you say--and quit runnin'
+cattle on the water-hole side--I'll quit runnin' sheep there."  And
+Loring waved his hand toward the north.
+
+"But the Concho is on the west side--" began Sundown.
+
+"And cattle are grazin' on the east side," said Loring.
+
+Sundown scratched his head.  "I reckon I got to see Jack," he said.
+
+"And you'll waste time, at that," said Loring.  "Look here!  Are you
+ranchin' to hold down the water-hole for Corliss or to make a livin'?"
+
+Sundown hesitated.  He gazed across the yard to the distant mesa.
+Suddenly a figure crossed the pathway to the gate.  He jerked up his
+head and stood with mouth open.  It couldn't be--but, yes, it was
+Anita--Linda Rosa!  Gee Gosh!  He turned to Loring.  "I been tellin'
+you the truth," he said simply.  "'Course I got to see me boss, now.
+But it makes no difference what he says, after this.  I'm ranchin' for
+meself, because I'm--er--thinkin' of gettin' married."
+
+Without further explanation, Sundown stalked to the stable and got his
+horse.  He came to the hacienda and made his adieux.  Then he mounted
+and rode slowly down the roadway toward the gate.
+
+Anita's curiosity had overcome her timidity.  Quite accidentally she
+stood toying with a bud that she had picked from the flower-bordered
+roadway.  She turned as Sundown jingled up and met him with a murmur of
+surprise and pleasure.  He swung from his horse hat in hand and
+advanced, bowing.  Anita flushed and gazed at the ground.
+
+"'Mornin', Senorita!  I sure am jest hoppin' glad to see you ag'in.  If
+I'd 'a' knowed you was here . . .  But I come on business--important.
+Reckon you're visitin' friends, eh?"
+
+"Si, Senor!"
+
+"Do you come here reg'lar?"
+
+"Only to see the good aunt sometimes."
+
+"Uhuh.  I kind of wish your aunt was hangin' out at the Concho, though.
+This here ain't a reg'lar stoppin'-place for me."
+
+"You go away?" queried Anita.
+
+"I reckon I got to after what I said up there to the house.  Yes, I'm
+goin' back to feed me pigs and Chance and the hens.  I set up
+housekeepin' since I seen you.  Got a ranch of me own--that I was
+tellin' you about.  You ought to see it!  Some class!  But it's mighty
+lonely, evenin's."
+
+Anita sighed and glanced at Sundown.  Then her gaze dwelt on the bud
+she held.  "Si, Senor--it is lonely in the evenings," she said, and
+although she spoke in Spanish, Sundown did not misunderstand.
+
+He grinned hugely.  "You sure don't need to talk American to tell it,"
+he said as one who had just made a portentous discovery.  "It was
+worryin' me how we was goin' to get along--me short on the Spanish and
+you short on my talk.  But I reckon we'll get along fine.  Your pa in
+good health, and your ma?"
+
+Anita nodded shyly.
+
+Sundown was at a loss to continue this pleasant conversation.  He
+brightened, however, as a thought inspired him.  "And the leetle hoss,
+is he doin' well?"
+
+"That Sarko I do not like that he should keeck you!" flamed Anita, and
+Sundown's cup of happiness was full to overflowing.
+
+Quite unconsciously he was leading his horse toward the gate and quite
+unconsciously Anita was walking beside him.  Forgotten was the Loring
+ranch, the Concho, his own homestead.  He was with his inamorata, the
+"Linda Rosa" of his dreams.
+
+At the gateway he turned to her.  "I'm comin' over to see your folks
+soon as I git things to runnin' on me ranch.  Keeps a fella busy, but
+I'm sure comin'.  I ain't got posies to growin' yet, but I'm goin' to
+have some--like them," and he indicated the bud which she held.
+
+"You like it?" she queried.  And with bashful gesture she gave him the
+rose, smiling as he immediately stuck it in the band of his sombrero.
+
+Then he held out his hand.  "Linda Rosa," he said gently, "I can't make
+the big talk in the Spanish lingo or I'd say how I was lovin' you and
+thinkin' of you reg'lar and deep.  'Course I got to put your pa and ma
+wise first.  But some day I'm comin'--me and Chance--and tell you that
+I'm ready--that me ranch is doin' fine, and that I sure want you to
+come over and boss the outfit.  I used to reckon that I didn't want no
+woman around bossin' things, but I changed me mind.  Adios!
+Senorita!--for I sure got to feed them hens."
+
+Sundown extended his hand.  Anita laid her own plump brown hand in
+Sundown's hairy paw.  For an instant he hesitated, moved by a most
+natural impulse to kiss her.  Her girlish face, innocently sweet and
+trusting, her big brown eyes glowing with admiration and wonder, as she
+gazed up at him, offered temptation and excuse enough.  It was not
+timidity nor lack of opportunity that caused Sundown to hesitate, but
+rather that innate respect for women which distinguishes the gentle man
+from the slovenly generalization "gentleman."  "Adios! Linda Rosa!" he
+murmured, and stooping, kissed her brown fingers.  Then he gestured
+with magnificence toward the flowers bordering the roadway.  "And you
+sure are the lindaest little Linda Rosa of the bunch!"
+
+And Anita's heart was filled with happiness as she watched her brave
+caballero ride away, so tall, so straight, and of such the gentle
+manner and the royal air!
+
+It was inevitable that he should turn and wave to her, but it was not
+inevitable that she should have thrown him a pretty kiss with the grace
+of her pent-up emotion--but she did.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+AN UNEXPECTED VISIT
+
+It was late in the evening when Sundown returned to his ranch.  Chance
+welcomed him with vocal and gymnastic abandon.  Sundown hastened to his
+"tame cow" and milked her while the four hens peeped and clucked from
+their roost, evidently disturbed by the light of the lantern.
+Meanwhile Chance lay gravely watching his master until Gentle Annie had
+been relieved of the full and creamy quota of her donation to the
+maintenance of the household.  Then the wolf-dog followed his master to
+the kitchen where they enjoyed, in separate dishes, Gentle Annie's warm
+contribution, together with broken bread and "a leetle salt to bring
+out the gamey flavor."
+
+Solicitous of the welfare of his stock, as he termed them, he betook
+himself to the hen-house to feed the chickens.  "Huh!" he exclaimed,
+raising the lantern and peering round, "there's one rooster missin'!"
+_The_ rooster had in truth disappeared.  He put down the lantern and
+turned to Chance.  "Lemme look at your mouth.  No, they ain't no signs
+on you.  Hold on!  Be Gosh, if they ain't some leetle red hairs
+stickin' to your chops.  What's the answer?"
+
+Chance whined and wagged his tail.  "You don't look like you was
+guilty.  And that there rooster wasn't sportin' red hair the last time
+I seen him.  Did you eat him fust and then swaller a rabbit to cover
+his tracks?  I reckon not.  You're some dog--but you ain't got
+boiler-room for a full-size Rhode Island Red and a rabbit and two
+quarts of bread-and-milk.  It ain't reas'nable.  I got to investigate."
+
+The dog seemed to understand.  He leaped up and trotted to the yard,
+turning his head and silently coaxing his master to follow him.
+Sundown, with a childish and most natural faith in Chance's
+intelligence, followed him to the fence, scrambled through and trailed
+him out on the mesa.  In a little hollow Chance stopped and stood with
+crooked fore leg.  Sundown stalked up.  At his feet fluttered his red
+rooster and not far from it lay the body of a full-grown coyote.
+Chance ran to the coyote and diving in shook the inanimate shape and
+growled.  "Huh!  Showin' me what you done to him for stealin' our
+rooster, eh?  Well, you sure are goin' to get suthin' extra for this!
+You caught him with the goods--looks like.  And look here!"--and
+Sundown deposited the lantern on a knoll and sat down facing the dog.
+"What I'm goin' to give you that extra for ain't for killin' the
+coyote.  That is your business when I ain't to home.  You could 'a'
+finished off Jimmy"--and he gestured toward the rooster--"and the
+evidence would 'a' been in your favor, seein' as you was wise to show
+me the coyote.  I got some candy put by for--for later, if she likes
+it, but we're goin' to bust open that box of candy and celebrate.  Got
+to see if I can repair Jimmy fust, though, or else use the axe.  I
+dunno."
+
+Jimmy was a sad spectacle.  His tail-feathers were about gone and one
+leg was maimed, yet he still showed the fighting spirit of his New
+England sires, for, as Sundown essayed to pick him up, he pecked and
+squawked energetically.
+
+They returned to the house, where Sundown examined the bedraggled bird
+critically.  "I ain't no doc, but I have been practiced on some meself.
+Looks like his left kicker was bruk.  Guess it's the splints for him
+and nussin' by hand.  Here, you!  Let go that button!  That ain't a
+bug!  There!  'T ain't what you'd call a perfessional job, but if you
+jest quit runnin' around nights and take care of your health, mebby
+you'll come through.  Don' know what them hens'll think, though.  You
+sure ain't no Anner Dominus no more.  If you was a lady hen, you could
+pertend you was wearin' evenin' dress like--low-neck and suspenders.
+But bein' a he, 't ain't the style.  Wonder if you got your crow left?
+You ain't got a whole lot more to tell you from jest a hen."
+
+With Jimmy installed in a box of straw in the kitchen, the pigs fed,
+and Gentle Annie grazing contentedly, Sundown felt able to relax.  It
+had been a strenuous day for him.  He drew a chair to the stove, and
+before he sat down he brought forth from beneath the bed a highly
+colored cardboard box on which was embossed a ribbon of blue sealed
+with a gold paster-seal.  Chance watched him gravely.  It was a
+ceremony.  Sundown opened the box and picking out a chocolate held it
+up that Chance might realize fully that it was a ceremony.  The dog's
+nose twitched and he licked his chops.  "Tastes good a'ready, eh?
+Well, it's yourn."  And he solemnly gave Chance the chocolate.  "Gee
+Gosh!  What'd you do with it?  That ain't no way to eat candy!  You
+want to chew her slow and kind o' hang on till she ain't there.  Then
+you get your money's worth.  Want another?"
+
+Later Sundown essayed to smoke, but found the flavor of chocolate
+incompatible with the enjoyment of tobacco.  Chance dozed by the fire,
+and Jimmy, with neck stretched above the edge of the box, watched
+Sundown with beady, blinking eyes.
+
+
+Sundown slept late next morning.  The lowing of Gentle Annie as she
+mildly endeavored to make it known that milking-time was past, the
+muffled grunting of the two pigs as they rooted in the mud or poked
+flat flexible noses through the bars, the restless padding of Chance to
+and from the bedroom, merely harmonized in chorus with audible slumbers
+until one of the hens cackled.  Then Jimmy, from his box near the
+stove, lifted his clarion shrill in reply to the hen.  Sundown sat up,
+scratched his ear, and arose.
+
+He was returning from a practice of five-finger exercise on Gentle
+Annie, busy with his thoughts and the balance of the pail, when a shout
+brought his gaze to the road.  John Corliss and Bud Shoop waved him
+greeting, and dismounting led their horses to the yard.
+
+"Saves me a ride," muttered Sundown.  Then, "How, folks!  Come right
+in!"
+
+He noticed that the ponies seemed tired--that the cinchas were
+mud-spattered and that the riders seemed weary.  He invited his guests
+to breakfast.  After the meal the three foregathered outside the house.
+
+"That was right good beef you fed us," remarked Shoop, slightly raising
+one eyebrow as Corliss glanced at him.
+
+"The best in the country," cheerfully assented Sundown.
+
+"How you making it, Sun?"
+
+"Me?  Oh, I'm wigglin' along.  Come home last night and found Jimmy
+with his leg bruk.  Everything else was all right."
+
+"Jimmy?"
+
+"Uhuh.  Me rooster."
+
+"Coyote grab him?"
+
+"Uhuh.  And Chance fixed Mr. Coyote.  I was to Loring's yesterday on
+business."
+
+Shoop glanced at Corliss who had thus far remained silent.
+
+"We had a little business to talk over," said the rancher.  "You're
+located now.  I'm going to run some cattle down this way next week.
+Some of mine and some of the Two-Bar-O."  Corliss, who had been
+standing, stepped to the doorway and sat down.  Shoop and Sundown
+followed him and lay outstretched on the warm earth.  "Funny thing,
+Bud, about that Two-Bar-O steer we found cut up."
+
+"Sure was," said Shoop.
+
+"Did he get in a fence?" queried Sundown.
+
+"No.  He was killed for beef.  We ran across him yesterday and did some
+looking around last night.  Trailed over this way to have a talk."
+
+"I'm right glad to see you.  I wanted to speak a little piece meself
+after you get through."
+
+"All right.  Here's the story."  And Corliss gazed across the mesa for
+a moment.  "The South Spring's gone dry.  The fork is so low that only
+a dozen head can drink at once.  It's been a mighty dry year, and the
+river is about played out except in the canon, and the stock can't get
+to the water there.  This is about the only natural supply outside the
+ranch.  I want to put a couple of men in here and ditch to that hollow
+over there.  It'll take about all your water, but we got to have it.  I
+want you to put in a gas-engine and pump for us.  Maybe we'll have to
+pipe to tanks before we get through.  I'll give you fifty a month to
+run the engine."
+
+"I'll sure keep that leetle ole gas-engine coughin' regular," said
+Sundown.  "I was thinkin' of somethin' like that meself.  You see I
+seen Loring yesterday.  I told him that anybody that was wishful could
+water stock here so long as she held out--except there was to be no
+shootin' and killin', and the like.  Ole man Loring says to tell you
+what I told him and see what you said.  I reckon he'll take his sheep
+out of here if you folks'll take your cattle off the east side.  I
+ain't playin' no favorites.  You been my friend--you and Bud.  You come
+and make me a proposition to pump water for you--and the fifty a month
+is for the water.  That's business.  Loring ain't said nothin' about
+buyin' water from me, so you get it.  You see I was kind of figurin'
+somethin' like this when I first come to this here place--'way back
+when I met you that evenin'.  Says I to meself, 'a fella couldn't even
+raise robins on this here farm, but from the looks of that water-hole
+he could raise water, and folks sure got to have water in this
+country.'  I was thinkin' of irrigatin' and raisin' alfalfa and
+veg'tables, but fifty a month sounds good to me.  Bein' a puncher
+meself, I ain't got no use for sheep, but I was willin' to give ole man
+Loring a chance.  If the mesas is goin' dry on the east side, what's he
+goin' to do?"
+
+"I don't know, Sun.  He's got a card up his sleeve, and you want to
+stay right on the job.  Bud here got a tip in Antelope that a bunch of
+Mexicans came in last week from Loring's old ranch in New Mexico.  Some
+of 'em are herders and some of 'em are worse.  I reckon he'll try to
+push his sheep across and take up around here.  He'll try it at night.
+If he does and you get on to it before we do, just saddle Pill and fan
+it for the Concho."
+
+"Gee Gosh!  But that means more fightin'!"
+
+Shoop and Corliss said nothing.  Sundown gazed at them questioningly.
+
+Presently Corliss gestured toward the south.  "They'll make it
+interesting for you.  Loring's an old-timer and he won't quit.  This
+thing won't be settled until something happens--and I reckon it's going
+to happen soon."
+
+"Well, I'm sure sittin' on the dynamite," said Sundown lugubriously.
+"I reckoned to settle down and git m--me farm to goin' and keep out of
+trouble.  Now it looks like I was the cat what fell out of a tree into
+a dog-fight by mistake.  They was nothin' left of that cat."
+
+Shoop laughed.  "We'll see that you come out all right."
+
+Sundown accepted this meager consolation with a grimace.  Then his face
+beamed.  "Say!  What's the matter of me tellin' the sheriff that
+there's like to be doin's--and mebby he could come over and kind of
+scare 'em off."
+
+"The idea is all right, Sun.  But Jim is a married man.  Most of his
+deputies are married.  If it comes to a mix some of 'em 'd get it sure.
+Now there isn't a married man on the Concho--which makes a lot of
+difference.  Sabe?"
+
+"I reckon that's right," admitted Sundown, "Killin' a married man is
+like killin' the whole fambly."
+
+"And you're a single man--so you're all right," said Shoop.
+
+"Gee Gosh!  Mebby that ought to make me feel good, but it don't.
+Supposin' a fella was goin' to get married?"
+
+"Then--he'd--better wait," said Corliss, smiling at his foreman.
+
+Corliss stood up and yawned.  "Oh, say, Sun, where'd you get that
+beef?" he asked casually.
+
+"The beef?  Why, a Chola come along here day afore yesterday and say if
+I wanted some meat.  I says yes.  Then he rides off and purty soon he
+comes back with a hind-quarter on his saddle.  I give him two dollars
+for it.  It looked kind of funny, but I thought he was mebby campin'
+out there somewhere and peddlin' meat."
+
+Shoop and Corliss glanced at each other.  "They don't peddle meat that
+way in this country, Sun.  What did the Mexican look like?"
+
+"Kind of fat and greasy-like, and he was as cross-eyed as a rabbit
+watchin' two dogs to onct."
+
+"That so?  Let's have a look at that hind-quarter."
+
+"Sure!  Over there in the well-shed."
+
+When Corliss returned, he nodded to Shoop.  Then he turned to Sundown.
+"We found a Two-Bar-O steer killed right close to here yesterday.
+Looks queer.  Well, we'll be fanning it.  I'll send to Antelope and
+have them order the pump and some pipe.  Got plenty of grub?"
+
+"Plenty 'nough for a couple of weeks."
+
+"All right.  So-long.  Keep your eye on things."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+VAMOSE, EH?
+
+The intermittent popping of the gasoline engine, as it forced water to
+the big, unpainted tank near the water-hole, became at first monotonous
+and finally irritating.  Sundown, clad in oil-spotted overalls that did
+not by many inches conceal his riding-boots and his Spanish spurs,
+puttered about the engine until he happened to glance at the distant
+tank.  A silvery rill of water was pouring from the top of the tank.
+He shut off the engine, wiped his hands, and strode to the house.
+
+He was gone a long time, so long in fact that Chance decided to
+investigate.  The dog got up, stretched lazily, and padded to the
+doorway.  He could hear Sundown muttering and shuffling about in the
+bedroom.  Chance stalked in quietly and stood gazing at his master.
+Sundown had evidently been taking a bath,--not in the pail of water
+that stood near him, but obviously round and about it.  At the moment
+he was engaged in tying a knot in the silk bandanna about his neck.
+Chance became animated.  His master was going somewhere!  Sundown
+turned his head, glancing at the dog with a preoccupied eye.  The knot
+adjusted to his satisfaction, he knelt and drew a large box from
+beneath the bed.  From the box he took an immaculate and exceedingly
+wide-brimmed Stetson with an exceedingly high crown.  He dented the
+crown until the hat had that rakish appearance dear to the heart of the
+cowboy.  Then he took the foot-square looking-glass from the wall and
+studied the effect at various and more or less unsatisfactory angles.
+Again he knelt--after depositing the hat on the bed--and emerged with a
+pair of gorgeous leather chaps that glittered with the polished silver
+of conchas from waist-band to heel.  Next he drew on a pair of
+elaborate gauntlets embellished with hand-worked silk roses of crimson.
+Then he glanced at his boots.  They were undoubtedly serviceable, but
+more or less muddy and stained.  That wouldn't do at all!  Striding to
+the kitchen he poked about and finally unearthed a box of stove-polish
+that he had purchased and laid away for future use against that happy
+time when stove-polish would be doubly appreciated.  The metallic
+luster of his boots was not altogether satisfactory, but it would do.
+"This here bein' chief engineer of a popcorn machine ain't what it's
+said to be in the perspectus.  Gets a fella lookin' greasy and feelin'
+greasy, but the pay kind of makes up for it.  Me first month's wages
+blowed in for outside decoratin'--but I reckon the grub'll hold out for
+a spell."
+
+Then he strode from the house and made his rounds, inspecting the pigs,
+shooing the chickens to their coop, and finally making a short
+pilgrimage to where Gentle Annie was grazing.  After he had saddled
+"Pill," he returned to the house and reappeared with a piece of
+wrapping-paper on which he had printed:--
+
+
+Help yourself to grub--but no fighting on thees premisus.
+
+SUNDOWN, Propriter.
+
+
+"It's all right trustin' folks," he remarked as he gazed proudly at the
+sign and still more proudly at the signature.  "And I sure hate to put
+up anything that looks kind of religious, but these days I don't trust
+nobody but meself, and I sure have a hard time doin' that, knowin' how
+crooked I could be if I tried."
+
+He gathered up the reins and mounted Pill.  "Come on, Chance!" he
+called.  "We don't need any rooster-police to-day.  Jimmy's in there
+talkin' to his hens, and like as not cussin' because I shet him up.
+And he sure ought to be glad he ain't goin' on crutches."
+
+He rode out to the mesa and, turning from the trail, took as direct a
+course as he could approximate for the home of Chico Miguel, and
+incidentally Anita.  His mission would have been obvious to an utter
+stranger.  He shone and glistened from head to heel--his face with the
+inner light of anticipation and his boots with the effulgence of
+hastily applied stove-polish.
+
+He rode slowly, for he wished to collect himself, that his errand might
+have all the grace of a chance visit and yet not lack the most
+essential significance.  He did not stop to reason that Anita's father
+and mother were anything but blind.
+
+The day was exceptionally hot.  The sun burned steadily on the ripening
+bunch-grass.  His pony's feet swept aside bright flowers that tilted
+their faces eagerly like the faces of questioning children.  He glanced
+at his watch.  "Got to move along, Pill.  Reckon we'll risk havin'
+somethin' to say when we get there--and not cook her up goin' along.
+It sure is hot.  Huh!  That there butte over there looks jest like a
+city athletic club with muscles all on its front of fellas wrastlin'
+and throwin' things at themselves.  Wisht I had a big lookin'-glass so
+I could see meself comin'.  Gee Gosh, but she's hot!"
+
+He put the horse to a lope, and with the subdued rhythm of the pony's
+feet came Euterpe with a song.  Recitation of verse at a lope is apt to
+be punctuated according to the physical contour of the ground:--
+
+
+  "In the Pull--man _car_ with turnin' _fans_,
+  The desert _looks_ like a lovely p--_lace_.
+  But crossin' a_lone_ on the _burn_in' sands,
+  She's hell, with a _grin_ on her face."
+
+
+"Got to slow up to get that right," he said, "or jest stop an' git off.
+But we ain't got time.  'Oh, down in Arizona there's a . . .'  No.  I
+reckon I won't.  I want to sing, but I can't take no risks."
+
+That "the Colonel's lady and Julie O'Grady are sisters under their
+skins," is not to be doubted.  That Romeo and Sundown are brothers,
+with the odds slightly in favor of Sundown, is apparent to those who
+have been, are, or are willing to be, in love.  "Will this plume, these
+trunks and hose, this bonnet please my fair Juliet?" sighs Romeo to his
+mirror.  And "Will these here chaps and me bandanna and me new Stetson
+make a hit with me leetle Anita?" asks Sundown of the mesas.
+
+That the little Anita was pleased, nay, overwhelmed by the arrival of
+her gorgeous caballero was more than apparent to the anxious Sundown.
+She came running to the gate and stood with clasped hands while he
+bowed for the seventh time and slowly dismounted, giving his leg an
+unnecessary shake that the full effect of spur and concha might not be
+lost.  He felt the high importance of his visit, and Anita also
+surmised that something unusual was about to happen.  He strode
+magnificently to the house and again doffed his Stetson to the
+astonished and smiling Senora.  Evidently the strange vaquero had met
+with fortune.  With experienced eye the mother of Anita swiftly
+estimated the monetary outlay necessary to possess such an equipment.
+It was well to be courted, of that she was reminiscently certain.  Yet
+it was also well to be courted by one who bore the earmarks--so to
+speak--of prosperity.  Sundown was made heartily welcome.  After they
+had had dinner,--Chico Miguel would return at night as usual,--Sundown
+mentally besought his stars to aid him, lend him eloquence and the
+Senora understanding, and found excuse to follow the Senora to the
+kitchen where he offered to wipe the dishes.  This she would not hear
+of, but being wise in her generation she dismissed Anita on a trivial
+errand and motioned her guest to a seat.  What was said is a matter of
+interest only to those immediately concerned.  Love is his own
+interpreter and labors willingly, yet in this instance his limitations
+must be excused by the result.  The Senora and Sundown came to a
+perfect understanding.  The cabellero was welcome to make the state of
+his heart known to Anita.  As for her father, she--the Senora--would
+attend to him.  And was Sundown fond of the tortillas?  He was, be
+Gosh!  It was well.  They would have tortillas that evening.  Chico
+Miguel was especially fond of the tortillas.  They made him of the
+pleasant disposition and induced him to tune the big guitar.
+
+The Senora would take her siesta.  Possibly her guest would smoke and
+entertain Anita with news from the Concho and of the Patron Loring and
+of his own rancho.  Anita was not of what you say the kind to do the
+much talking, but she had a heart.  Of that the Senora had reason to be
+assured.  Had not Anita gone, each day, to the gate and stood gazing
+down the road?  Surely there was nothing to see save the mesas.  Had
+she not begged to be allowed to visit the Loring hacienda not of so
+very long time past?  And Anita had not been to the Loring hacienda for
+a year or more.  Such things were significant.  And the Senora gestured
+toward her own bosom, implying that she of a surety knew from which
+quarter the south wind blew.
+
+All of which delighted the already joyous Sundown.  He saw before him a
+flower-bordered pathway to his happiness, and incidentally, as he gazed
+down the pathway toward the gate of Chico Miguel's homestead, he saw
+Anita standing pensively beneath the shade of an acacia, pulling a
+flower to pieces and casting quick glances at the house.  "Good-night,
+Senora,--I mean--er--here's hopin' you have a good sleep.  It sure is
+refreshin' this hot weather."  The Senora nodded and disappeared in the
+bedroom.  Sundown strode jingling down the pathway, a brave figure in
+his glittering chaps and tinkling spurs.  Anita's eyes were hidden
+beneath her long black lashes.  Perhaps she had anticipated something
+of that which followed--perhaps she anticipated even more.  In any
+event, Sundown was not a disappointment.  He asked her to sit beside
+him beneath the acacia.  Then he took her hand and squeezed it.  "Let's
+jest sit here and look out at them there mesas dancin' in the sun; and
+say, 'Nita, let's jest say nothin' for a spell.  I'm so right down
+happy that suthin' hurts me throat."
+
+When Chico Miguel returned in the dusk of evening, humming a song of
+the herd, he was not a little surprised to find that Anita was absent.
+He questioned the Senora, who smiled as she bustled about the table.
+"Tortillas," she said, and was gratified at the change in Chico
+Miguel's expression.  Then she explained the presence of the broad new
+Stetson that lay on a chair, adding a gesture toward the gateway.  "It
+is the tall one and our daughter--he of the grand manner and the sad
+countenance.  It is possible that a new home will be thought of for
+Anita."  There had been conversations that afternoon with the tall
+caballero and understandings.  Chico Miguel was to wash himself and put
+on his black suit.  It was an event--and there were tortillas.
+
+Chico Miguel wondered why the hour of eating had been so long past.  To
+which the Senora replied that he had just arrived, and, moreover, that
+she had already called to Anita this the third time, yet had had no
+response.  Chico Miguel moved toward the doorway, but his wife laid her
+hand on his arm.  "It is that you take the big guitar and play the
+'Linda Rosa, Adios.'  Then, to be sure, they will hear and the supper
+will not grow cold."
+
+Grumblingly Chico Miguel took his guitar and struck the opening chords
+of the song.  Presently up the pathway came two shadowy figures, close
+together and seemingly in no haste.  As they entered the house, Sundown
+apologized for having delayed supper, stating that he had been so
+interested in discussing with Anita the "best breed of chickens to
+raise for eggs," that other things had for the nonce not occupied his
+attention.  "And we're sure walkin' on music," he added.  "Jest
+steppin' along on the notes of that there song.  I reckon I got to get
+one of them leetle potato-bug mandolins and learn to tickle its neck.
+There's nothin' like music--exceptin'"--and he glanced at the blushing
+Anita--"exceptin' ranchin'."
+
+
+It was late when Sundown finally departed, He grew anxious as he rode
+across the mesas, wondering if he had not taken advantage, as it were,
+of Gentle Annie's good nature, and whether or not the chickens were
+very hungry.  Chance plodded beside him, a vague shadow in the
+starlight.  The going was more or less rough and Pill dodged many
+gopher-holes, to the peril of his rider's equilibrium.  Yet Sundown was
+glad that it was night.  There was nothing to divert him from the
+golden dreams of the future.  He felt that success, as he put it, "was
+hangin' around the door whinin' to be let in."  He formulated a creed
+for himself and told the stars.  "I believe in meself--you bet."  Yet
+he was honest with his soul.  "I know more about everything and less
+about anything than anybody--exceptin' po'try and cookin'.  But gettin'
+along ain't jest what you know.  It's more like what you do.  They's
+fellas knows more than I could learn in four thousand eight hundred and
+seventy-six years, but that don't help 'em get along none.  It's what
+you know inside what counts."
+
+He lapsed into silence and slouched in the saddle.  Presently he
+nodded, recovered, and nodded again.  He would not wittingly have gone
+to sleep in the saddle, being as yet too unaccustomed to riding to
+relax to that extent.  But sleep had something to say anent the matter.
+He dozed, clasping the saddle-horn instinctively.  Pill plodded along
+patiently.  The east grew gray, then rose-pink, then golden.  The horse
+lifted its head and quickened pace.  Sundown swayed and nodded.
+
+
+His uneasy slumber was broken by an explosive bark from Chance.
+Sundown straightened and rubbed his eyes.  Before him lay the
+ranch-house, glittering in the sun.  Out on the mesa grazed a herd of
+sheep and past them another and another.  Again he rubbed his eyes.
+
+Then he distinguished several saddle-horses tied to the fence
+surrounding the water-hole and there were figures of men walking to and
+from his house, many of them.  He set spur to Pill and loped up to the
+fence.  A Mexican with a hard, lined face stepped up to him.  "You
+vamose!" he said, pointing down the road.
+
+Sundown stared at the men about the yard.  Among them he recognized
+several of Loring's herders, armed and evidently equipped with horses,
+for they were booted and spurred.  He pushed back his hat.  "Vamose,
+eh?  I'll be damned if I do."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI
+
+THE INVADERS
+
+The Mexican whipped his gun out and covered Sundown, who wisely put up
+his hands.  Two of the men crawled through the fence, secured Sundown's
+horse, and ordered him to dismount.  Before both feet had touched the
+ground one of the Mexicans had snatched Sundown's gun from its holster.
+Chance leaped at the Mexican, but Sundown's "Here, Chance!" brought the
+dog growling to his master.
+
+At that moment Loring stepped from the house, and shouldering aside the
+men strode up to Sundown.  The sheep-man was about to speak when the
+tall one raised his arm and shook his fist in Loring's face.
+
+"Fer two pins I'd jump you and stomp the gizzard out of you, you
+low-down, dried-up, whisker-faced, mutton-eatin' butcher, you!  I goes
+to you and makes you a square offer and you come pussy-footin' in and
+steals me ranch when I ain't there!  If Jack Corliss don't run you
+plumb off the edge afore to-morrow night, I'll sure see if there's any
+law--" and Sundown paused for lack of breath.
+
+"Law?  Mebby you think you got somethin' to say about this here
+water-hole, and mebby not," said Loring.  "Don't get het up.  I come to
+this country before you knew it was here.  And for law--I reckon seein'
+you're wanted by the law that them papers of yourn is good for startin'
+a fire--and nothin' more.  The _law_ says that no man wanted by the law
+kin homestead.  The water-hole is open to the fust man that wants it
+and I'm the fust.  Now mebby you can think that over and cool off."
+
+Sundown was taken aback.  Though unversed in the intricacies of the
+law, he was sensible enough to realize that Loring was right.  Yet he
+held tenaciously to his attitude of proprietor of the water-hole.  It
+was his home--the only home that he had known in his variegated career.
+The fact that he was not guilty buoyed him up, however.  He decided
+that discretion had its uses.  As his first anger evaporated, he cast
+about for a plan whereby to notify Corliss of the invasion of the
+water-hole ranch.  His glance wandered to Chance.
+
+Then he raised his eyes.  "Well, now the fireworks is burned down, what
+you goin' to do?"
+
+Loring gestured toward the house.  "That's my business.  But you can
+turn in and cook grub for the men.  That'll keep you from thinkin' too
+hard, and we're like to be busy."
+
+"Then you're takin' me prisoner?" queried Sundown.
+
+"That's correc'."
+
+"How about the law of that?"
+
+"This outfit's makin' its own laws these days," said Loring.
+
+And so far as Loring was concerned that ended the argument.  Not so,
+however, with Sundown.  He said nothing.  Had Loring known him better,
+that fact would have caused him to suspect his prisoner.  With evident
+meekness the tall one entered the house and gazed with disconsolate
+eyes at the piled kyacks of provisions, the tarpaulins and sheepskins.
+His citadel of dreams had been rudely invaded, in truth.  He was not so
+much angered by the possible effects of the invasion as by the fact.
+Gentle Annie was lowing plaintively.  The chickens were scurrying about
+the yard, cackling hysterically as they dodged this and that herder.
+The two pigs, Sundown reflected consolingly, seemed happy enough.
+Loring, standing in the doorway, pointed to the stove.  "Get busy," he
+said tersely.  That was the last straw.  Silently Sundown stalked to
+the stove, rolled up his sleeves, and went to work.  If there were not
+a score of mighty sick herders that night, it would not be his fault.
+He had determined on a bloodless but effective victory, wherein soda
+and cream-of-tartar should be the victors.
+
+Soda and cream-of-tartar in proper proportions is harmless.  But double
+the proportion of cream-of-tartar and the result is internal riot.
+"And a leetle spice to kill the bitter of the taste ought to work all
+right," he soliloquized.  Then he remembered Chance.  Loring had left
+to oversee the establishment of an outlying camp.  The Mexican who
+assisted Sundown seemed stupid and sullen.  Sundown found excuse to
+enter his bedroom, where he hastily scrawled a note to Corliss.  Later
+he tied the note to the inside of the dog's collar.  The next thing was
+to get Chance started on the road to the Concho.  He rolled down his
+sleeves and strolled to the doorway.  A Mexican sat smoking and
+watching the road.  Sundown stepped past him and began to tinker with
+the gas-engine.  Chance stood watching him.  Presently the gas-engine
+started with a cough and splutter.  Sundown walked to the door and
+seemed about to enter when the Mexican called to him and pointed toward
+the distant tank.  Water was pouring over its rim.  "Gee Gosh!"
+exclaimed Sundown.  "I got to shut her off."  He ran to the engine and
+its sound ceased.  Yet the water still poured from the rim of the tank.
+"Got to fix that!" he asserted, and started toward the tank.  The
+Mexican followed him to the fence.
+
+"You come back?" he queried significantly.
+
+"Sure thing!  I ain't got a hoss, have I?"
+
+The Mexican nodded.  Sundown crawled through the fence and strode
+slowly to the tank.  He pretended to examine it first in view of the
+house and finally on the opposite side.  As Chance sniffed along the
+bottom of the tank, Sundown spoke to him.  The dog's ears pricked
+forward.  Sundown's tone suggested action.  "Here, Chance,--you fan it
+for the Concho--Jack--the boss.  Beat it for all you're worth.  The
+Concho!  Sabe?"  And he patted the dog's head and pointed toward the
+south.
+
+Chance hesitated, leaping up and whining.
+
+"That's all right, pardner.  They ain't nothin' goin' to happen to me.
+You go!"
+
+Chance trotted off a few yards and then turned his head inquiringly.
+
+"That's right.  Keep a-goin'.  It's your stunt this time."  And Sundown
+waved his arm.
+
+The return of Sundown without the dog occasioned no suspicion on the
+Mexican's part.  He most naturally thought, if he considered the fact
+at all, that the dog was hunting the mesas.  Then Sundown entered the
+house and experimented with soda and cream-of-tartar as though he were
+concocting a high explosive with proportions of the ingredients
+calculated to produce the most satisfactory results.  His plan,
+however, was nipped in the bud.  That night the herders refused to eat
+the biscuits after tasting them.
+
+Hi Wingle, coming from the bunk-house, wiped his hands on his apron,
+rolled a cigarette, and squatted in the shade.  From within came the
+clatter of knives and forks and the rattle of dishes.  The riders of
+the Concho were about through dinner.  Wingle, gazing down the road,
+suddenly cast his cigarette away and rose.  The road seemed empty save
+for a lean brown shape that raced toward the Concho with sweeping
+stride.  "It's the dog.  Wonder what's up now?"
+
+Chance, his muzzle specked with froth and his tongue lolling, swung
+into the yard and trotted to Wingle.  "Boss git piled ag'in?" queried
+the cook, patting Chance's head.  "What you scratchin' about?"
+
+The dog lay panting and occasionally pawing at his collar.
+
+"What's the matter?  Cockle-burr?"  And Wingle ran his fingers under
+the collar.  "So?  Playin' mail-man, eh?"
+
+He spread out the note and read it.  Slowly he straightened up and
+slowly he walked to the bunk-house.  "No.  Guess I'll tell Jack first."
+
+He strode to the office and laid the note on Corliss's desk.  The
+rancher, busy running up totals on the pay-roll, glanced at the
+sweat-stained piece of paper.  He read it and pushed it from him.  "All
+right, Hi."
+
+Wingle hesitated, then stepped out and over to the bunk-house.  "Takes
+it mighty cool!  Wonder what he's got up his sleeve.  Somethin'--sure!"
+
+Corliss studied the note.  Then he reached for paper and envelopes and
+wrote busily.  One of the letters was to the sheriff in Antelope.  It
+was brief.
+
+
+I'm going to push a bunch of stock over to the water-hole range.  My
+boys have instructions not to shoot.  That's the best I can do for them
+and the other side.        JOHN CORLISS.
+
+
+The other letter was to Nell Loring.  Then he rose and buckled on his
+gun.  At the bunk-house he gave the letters to Lone Johnny, who saddled
+and departed immediately.
+
+Without making the contents of the note known, he told the men that
+they would join Bud Shoop and his outfit at the Knoll and push the herd
+north.  Later he took Wingle aside and told him that he could stay and
+look after the rancho.
+
+The indignant Hi rolled down his sleeves, spat, and glared at Corliss.
+"I quit," he snapped.  "You can hire a new cook."
+
+Despite his preoccupation Corliss smiled.  "All right, Hi.  Now that
+you're out of a job, you might saddle up and ride with us.  We'll need
+some one to keep us good-natured, I reckon."
+
+"Now you're whistlin'!" said Wingle.  "Got a gun I can use?  I give
+mine to Sundown."
+
+"There's one over in the office on the desk.  But we're going to push
+the herd over to the water-hole.  We're not going there to fight."
+
+"Huh!  Goin' to be quiet, eh?  Mebby I better take my knittin' along to
+pass the time."
+
+And Wingle departed toward the office.  Rejoining Corliss they rode
+with the men to the Knoll.  Bud Shoop nodded gravely as his employer
+told him of Loring's occupation of the west bank of the river.  Then
+the genial Bud rode over to the herd that was bunched in anticipation
+of just such a contingency as had developed.  "It's a case of push 'em
+along easy--and all night," he told his men.  "And if any of you boys
+is out of cartridges there's plenty in the wagon."
+
+
+John Corliss rode with his men.  He told them to cut out any stray
+Two-Bar-O stock they saw and turn them back.  Toward evening they had
+the cattle in motion, drifting slowly toward the north.  The sixteen
+riders, including Corliss and Wingle, spread out and pushed the herd
+across the afternoon mesas.  The day was hot and there was no water
+between the Knoll and Sundown's ranch.  Corliss intended to hold the
+cattle when within a mile of the water-hole by milling them until
+daylight.  When they got the smell of water, he knew that he would not
+be able to hold them longer, nor did he wish to.  He regretted the fact
+that Chance was running with him, for he knew that Loring's men, under
+the circumstances, would shoot the dog if they had opportunity.
+
+Toward evening the outfit drew up in a draw and partook of a hearty
+supper.  The cattle began to lag as they were urged forward, and Chance
+was called into requisition to keep after the stragglers.  As the herd
+was not large,--in fact, numbered but five hundred,--it was possible to
+keep it moving steadily and well bunched, throughout the night.
+
+Within a short mile of the water-hole the riders began to mill the herd.
+
+Bud Shoop, riding up to Corliss, pointed toward the east.  "Reckon we
+can't hold 'em much longer, Jack.  They're crazy dry--and they smell
+water."
+
+"All right, Bud.  Hold 'em for fifteen minutes more.  Then take four of
+the boys with you and fan it for the road.  You can cache in that draw
+just north of the water-hole.  About sunup the herd'll break for water.
+Loring's outfit will be plenty busy on this side, about then.  If he's
+got any gunmen handy, they'll be camped at the ranch.  Chances are that
+when the cattle stampede a band or two of sheep, he'll turn his men on
+us.  That's your time to ride down and take possession of the ranch.
+Most likely you won't have to draw a gun."
+
+Shoop reined close to Corliss and held out his hand.  "Mebby not, Jack.
+But if we do--so-long."
+
+Then the genial Bud loped to the outriders, picking them up one by one.
+The cattle, freed from the vigilance of the circling horsemen, sniffed
+the dawn, crowded to a wedge, and began to trot, then to run.  Shoop
+and his four companions spurred ahead, swung to the road, and thundered
+past the ranch-house as a faint edge of light shot over the eastern
+horizon.  They entered the mouth of the draw, swung around, and reined
+up.
+
+"We're goin' to chip in when Jack opens the pot," said Shoop.  "Just
+how strong we'll come in depends on how strong Jack opens her."  Then
+with seeming irrelevance he remarked casually: "Sinker wasn't such a
+bad ole scout."
+
+"Which Loring's goin' to find out right soon," said "Mebby-So," a lean
+Texan.
+
+"Sinker's sure goin' to have company, I take it," remarked "Bull"
+Cassidy.
+
+"Boss's orders is to take her without makin' any noise," said Shoop.
+
+"Huh!  _I'm_ plumb disappointed," asserted Mebby-So.  "I was figurin'
+on singin' hymns and accompanyin' meself on me--me cayuse.  Listen!
+Somethin' 's broke loose!"
+
+Thundering like an avalanche the herd swept down on the water-hole,
+ploughing through a band of sheep that were bedded down between them
+and the ranch.  The herder's tent was torn to ribbons.  Wingle,
+trailing behind the herd, dismounted, and, stooping, disarmed the
+bruised and battered Mexican who had struggled to his feet as he rode
+up.
+
+From the water-hole came shouts, and Corliss saw several men come
+running from the house to seize their horses and ride out toward the
+cattle.  The band of riders opened up and the distant popping of
+Winchesters told him that the herders were endeavoring to check the
+rush of the thirst-maddened steers.  The carcasses of sheep, trampled
+to pulp, lay scattered over the mesa.
+
+"It sure is hell!" remarked Wingle, riding up to Corliss.
+
+"Hell is correct," said Corliss, spurring forward.  "Now I reckon we'll
+ride over to the rancho and see if Loring wants any more of it."
+
+Silently the rancher and his men rode toward the water-hole.  As they
+drew near the line fence, the Mexican riders, swinging in a wide
+circle, spurred to head them off.
+
+"Hold on!" shouted Corliss.  "We'll pull up and wait for 'em."
+
+"Suits me," said Wingle, loosening his gun from the holster.
+
+The Mexicans, led by Loring, loped up and reined with a slither of
+hoofs and the snorting of excited ponies.  Corliss held up his hand.
+Loring spurred forward and Corliss rode to meet him.
+
+"Want any more of it?" queried Corliss.
+
+"I'll take all you got," snarled Loring.
+
+"All right.  Just listen a minute."  And Corliss reached in his
+saddle-pocket.  "Here's a lease from the Government covering the ten
+sections adjoining the water-hole ranch, on the south and west.  And
+here's a contract with the owner of the water-hole, signed and
+witnessed, for the use of the water for my stock.  You're playing an
+old-fashioned game, Loring, that's out of date.  Want to look over
+these papers?"
+
+"To hell with your papers.  I'm here and I'm goin' to stay."
+
+"Well, we'll visit you regular," shouted a puncher.
+
+"Better come over to the house and talk things over," said Corliss.  "I
+don't want trouble with you--but my boys do."
+
+Loring hesitated.  One of his men, spurring up, whispered to him.
+
+Wingle, keenly alert, restrained a cowboy who was edging forward.
+"Don't start nothin'," he said.  "If she's goin' to start, she'll start
+herself."
+
+Loring turned to Corliss.  "I'd like to look at them papers," he said
+slowly.
+
+"All right.  We'll ride over to the house."
+
+The two bands of riders swung toward the north, passed the tank, and
+trotted up to the ranch-gate.  They dismounted and were met by Shoop
+and his companions.  Loring blinked and muttered.  He had been
+outgeneraled.  One of the Concho riders laughed.  Loring's hand slipped
+to his belt.  "Don't," said Corliss easily.  The tension relaxed, and
+the men began joking and laughing.
+
+"Where's Sundown?" queried Corliss.
+
+Loring gestured toward the house.
+
+"I'll go," said Wingle.  And he shouldered through the group of
+scowling herders and entered the house.
+
+Sundown, with hands tied, was sitting on the edge of his bed.  "They
+roped me," he said lugubriously, "in me own house.  Bud he was goin' to
+untie me, but I says for the love of Mike leave me tied or I'll take a
+chair and brain that Chola what kicked Gentle Annie in the stummick
+this mornin'.  He was goin' to milk her and I reckon she didn't like
+his looks.  Anyhow, she laid him out with a kind of hind-leg upper-cut.
+When he come to, he set in to kickin' her.  I got his picture and if I
+get me hands on him . . ."
+
+Wingle cut the rope and Sundown stood up.  "They swiped me gun," he
+asserted.
+
+"Here's one I took off a herder," said Wingle.  "if things get to
+boilin' over--why, jest nacherally wilt the legs from under anything
+that looks like a Chola.  Jack's got the cards, all right--but I don't
+jest like the look of things.  Loring's in the corner and he's got his
+back up."
+
+As they came from the house, Loring was reading the papers that Corliss
+had handed to him.  The old sheep-man glanced at the signatures on the
+documents and then slowly folded them, hesitated, and with a quick turn
+of his wrist tore them and flung the pieces in Corliss's face.  "That
+for your law!  We stay!"
+
+Corliss bit his lip, and the dull red of restrained anger burned in his
+face.  He had gone too far to retreat or retract.  He knew that his men
+would lose all respect for him if he backed down now.  Yet he was
+unable to frame a plan whereby he might avoid the arbitration of the
+six-gun.  His men eyed him curiously.  Was Jack going to show a yellow
+streak?  They thought that he would not--and yet . . .
+
+Sundown raised his long arm and pointed.  "There's the gent what kicked
+me cow," he said, his face white and his eyes burning.
+
+The punchers of the Concho laughed.  "Jump him!" shouted "Bull"
+Cassidy.  "We'll stand by and see that there's no monkeyin'."
+
+Corliss held up his hand.  The Mexicans drew together and the age-old
+hatred for the Gringo burned in their beady eyes.
+
+Sundown's thin lips drew tight.  "I've a good mind to--" he began.  The
+Mexican who had maltreated the cow mistook Sundown's gesture for intent
+to kill.  The herder's gun whipped up.  Sundown grabbed a chair that
+stood tilted against the house and swung it.  The Mexican went down.
+With the accidental explosion of the gun, Mebby-So grunted, put his
+hand to his side, and toppled from the saddle.  Corliss wheeled his
+horse.
+
+"Don't shoot, boys!" he shouted.
+
+His answer was a roar of six-guns.  He felt Chinook shiver.  He jumped
+clear as the horse rolled to its side.  Sundown, retreating to the
+house, flung open the bedroom window and kneeling, laid the barrel of
+his gun on the sill.  Deliberately he sighted, hesitated, and flung the
+gun from him.  "God Almighty--I ought to--but I can't!"  He had seen
+Corliss fall and thought that he had been killed.  He saw a Mexican
+raise his gun to fire; saw him suddenly straighten in the saddle.  Then
+the gun dropped from his hand, and he bent forward upon his horse,
+recovered, swayed a moment, and fell limply.
+
+Bud Shoop, on foot, ran around to the rear of the house.  His horse lay
+kicking, shot through the stomach.  The foreman drew himself up under
+cover of the hen-house and fired into the huddle of Mexicans that swept
+around the yard as the riders of the Concho drove them back.  He saw
+"Bull" Cassidy in the thick of it, swinging his guns and swearing
+heartily.  Finally a Mexican pony, wounded and wild with fright, tore
+through the barb-wire fence.  Behind him spurred the herders.  Out on
+the mesa they turned and threw lead at the Concho riders, who retreated
+to the cover of the house.  Corliss caught up a herder's horse and rode
+around to them.  Shorty, one of his men, grinned, fell to coughing, and
+sank forward on his horse.
+
+"Loring's down," said Wingle, solemnly reloading his gun.  "Think they
+got enough, Jack?"
+
+"Loring, eh?  Well, I know who got him.  Yes, they got enough."
+
+Shorty, vomiting blood, wiped his lips on his sleeve.  "Well, I
+ain't--not yet," he gasped.  "_I'm_ goin' to finish in a blaze of
+glory.  Come on, boys!"  And he whirled his horse.  Swaying drunkenly
+he spurred around the corner of the house and through the gateway.
+
+Corliss glanced at Wingle.  "We can't let him ride into 'em by his
+lonesome," said Wingle.  "Eh, boys?"
+
+"Not on your fat life!" said Bull Cassidy.  "I got one wing that's
+workin' and I'm goin' to fly her till she gits busted."
+
+"Let's clean 'em up!  Might's well do a good job now we're at it.
+Where's Bud?"
+
+"He's layin' over there back of the chicken-roost.  Reckon he's
+thinkin' things over.  He ain't sayin' much."
+
+"Bud down, too?  Then I guess we ride!"  And they swept out after
+Shorty.  They saw the diminutive cowboy tear through the band of
+herders, his gun going; saw his horse stumble and fall and a figure
+pitch from the saddle and roll to one side.  "And if I'm goin'--I want
+to go out that way," shouted Bull Cassidy.  "Shorty was some sport!"
+
+But the Mexicans had had enough of it.  They wheeled and spurred toward
+the south.  The Concho horses, worn out by the night-journey, were soon
+distanced.
+
+Corliss pulled up.  "Catch up a fresh horse, Hi.  And let Banks know
+how things stand.  If Loring isn't all in, you might fetch the doctor
+back with you.  We'll need him, anyway."
+
+"Sure!  Wonder who that is fannin' it this way?  Don't look like a
+puncher."
+
+Corliss turned and gazed down the road.  From the south came little
+puffs of dust as a black-and-white pinto running at top speed swept
+toward them.  He paled as he recognized the horse.
+
+"It's Loring's girl," said Wingle, glancing at Corliss.
+
+Nell Loring reined up as she came opposite the Concho riders and turned
+from the road.  The men glanced at each other.  Then ensued an awkward
+silence.  The girl's face was white and her dark eyes burned with
+reproach as she saw the trampled sheep and here and there the figure of
+a man prone on the mesa.  Corliss raised his hat as she rode up.  She
+sat her horse gazing at the men.  Without a word she turned and rode
+toward the ranch-house.  The Concho riders jingled along, in no hurry
+to face the scene which they knew awaited them at the water-hole.
+
+She was on her knees supporting her father's head when they dismounted
+and shuffled into the yard.  The old sheep-man blinked and tried to
+raise himself.  One of the Concho boys stepped forward and helped her
+get the wounded man to the house.
+
+Corliss strode to the bedroom and spoke to Sundown who turned and sat
+up.  "Get hit, Sun?"
+
+"No.  But I'm feelin' kind of sick.  Is the ole man dead?"
+
+"He's hurt, but not bad.  We want the bed."
+
+Sundown got to his feet and sidled past the girl as she helped her
+father to the bed.
+
+"I sent for the doctor," said Corliss.
+
+The girl whirled and faced him.  "You!" she exclaimed--"You!"
+
+The rancher's shoulders straightened.  "Yes--and it was my gun got him.
+You might as well know all there is to it."  Then he turned and,
+followed by Sundown, stepped to the yard.  "We'll keep busy while we're
+waiting.  Any of you boys that feel like riding can round up the herd.
+Hi and I will look after--the rest of it."
+
+"And Bud," suggested a rider.
+
+
+They found Shoop on the ground, the flesh of his shoulder torn away by
+a .45 and a welt of red above his ear where a Mexican's bullet had
+creased him.  They carried him to the house.  "Sun, you might stir
+around and rustle some grub.  The boys will want to eat directly."  And
+Corliss stepped to the water-trough, washed his hands, and then rolled
+a cigarette.  Hi Wingle sat beside him as they waited for dinner.
+Suddenly Corliss turned to his cook.  "I guess we've won out, Hi," he
+said.
+
+"Generally speakin'--we sure have," said Wingle.  "But I reckon _you_
+lost."
+
+Corliss nodded.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII
+
+"JUST ME AND HER"
+
+Sheriff Banks tossed Corliss's note on his desk, reached in his pocket
+and drew forth a jack-knife with which he began to trim his
+finger-nails.  He paid no apparent attention to the arrival of one of
+his deputies, but proceeded with his manipulation of the knife.  The
+deputy sidled to a chair and sat watching the sheriff.
+
+Presently Banks closed his knife, slid it into his pocket, and leaned
+back in his chair.  "Lone Johnny gone back?" he queried.
+
+The deputy nodded.
+
+Banks proffered his companion a cigar and lit one himself.  For a while
+he smoked and gazed at the ceiling.  "I got two cards to play," he
+said, straightening up and brushing cigar-ash from his vest.  "Last
+election was pretty close.  By rights I ought to be at the county-seat.
+Got any idea why they side-tracked me here in Antelope?"
+
+The deputy grinned.  "It's right handy to the line.  And I guess they
+saw what was comin' and figured to put you up against it.  They
+couldn't beat you at the polls, so they tried to put you where you
+wouldn't come back."
+
+"Correct.  And there's no use running against the rope.  Now I want you
+to call on every citizen in Antelope and tell every dog-goned one of
+'em what Lone Johnny kind of hinted at regarding the Concho and Loring.
+And show 'em this note from Jack.  Tell 'em I'm going to swear in each
+of 'em as a special.  I want to go on record as having done what I
+could."
+
+The deputy rose.  "All right, Jim.  Kind of late to make that move,
+ain't it?"
+
+"I got another card," said the sheriff.  "Tell 'em we'll be ready to
+start about twelve.  It's ten, now."
+
+With the departure of the deputy the sheriff reached in his desk and
+brought forth a book.  It was thumbed and soiled.  He turned the pages
+slowly, pausing to read a line here and there.  Finally he settled back
+and became immersed in the perennial delight of "Huckleberry Finn."  He
+read uninterruptedly for an hour, drifting on the broad current of the
+Mississippi to eventually disembark in Antelope as the deputy shadowed
+the doorway.  The sheriff closed the book and glanced up.  He read his
+answer in the deputy's eyes.
+
+"'T ain't that they don't like you," said the deputy.  "But they ain't
+one of 'em that'll do anything for Loring or do anything against Jack
+Corliss."
+
+The sheriff smiled.  "Public opinion is setting on the fence and
+hanging on with both hands.  All right, Joe.  I'll play her alone.  I
+got a wire from Hank that he's got the herder, Fernando.  Due here on
+the two-thirty.  You hang around and tell Hank to keep on--take the
+Mexican along up to Usher."
+
+"Goin' to go after the Concho boys and Loring's herders?"
+
+"Sure thing.  And I'm going alone.  Then they won't make a fuss.
+They'll come back with me all right."
+
+"But you couldn't get a jury to send one of 'em over--not in this
+county."
+
+"Correct, Joe.  But the county's paying me to go through the
+motions--don't matter what I think personally.  If they've pulled off a
+shooting-match at the water-hole, the thing's settled by this time.  It
+had to come and if it's over, I'm dam' glad.  It'll clear the air for
+quite a spell to come."
+
+"The papers'll sure make a holler--" began the deputy.
+
+"Not so much as you think.  They got one good reason to keep still and
+that's because the free range is like to be opened up to homesteaders
+any day.  Too much noise about cattle-and-sheep war would scare good
+money from coming to the State.  I heard the other day that that
+Sundown Jack picked up is settled at the water-hole.  I took him for a
+tenderfoot once.  I reckon he ain't.  It's hard to figure on those
+queer kind.  Well, you meet the two-thirty.  I guess I'll ride over to
+the Concho and see the boys."
+
+
+The Loring-Corliss case is now a matter of record in the dusty files of
+the "Usher Sentinel" and its decidedly disesteemed contemporary, the
+"Mesa News."  The case was dismissed for lack of anything like definite
+evidence, though Loring and Corliss were bound over to keep the peace.
+Incidentally one tall and angular witness refused to testify, and was
+sentenced to pay a not insignificant fine for contempt of court.  That
+his fine was promptly paid by Corliss furnished a more or less
+gratuitous excuse for a wordy vilification of the rancher and his
+"hireling assassin," "menace to public welfare," and the like.
+Sundown, however, stuck to his guns, even to the extent of searching
+out the editor of the "Mesa News" and offering graciously to engage in
+hand-to-hand combat, provided the editor, or what was left of him after
+the battle, would insert an apology in the next issue of the paper--the
+apology to be dictated by Sundown.
+
+The editor temporized by asking the indignant Sundown to frame the
+apology, which he did.  Then the wily autocrat of the "Mesa News,"
+after reading the apology, agreed to an armistice and mentioned the
+fact that it was a hot day.  Sundown intimated that he knew one or two
+places in Usher which he was not averse to visiting under the
+circumstances.  And so the treaty was ratified.
+
+Perhaps among Sundown's possessions there is none so cherished,
+speaking broadly, as a certain clipping from an Arizona newspaper in
+which the editor prints a strangely worded and colorful apology, above
+his personal signature, for having been misled temporarily in his
+estimation of a "certain person of warlike proclivities who visited our
+sanctum bent upon eradicating us in a physical sense."  The apology
+follows.  In a separate paragraph, however, is this information:
+
+"We find it imperative, however, to state that the above apology is a
+personal matter and in no wise affects our permanent attitude toward
+the lawlessness manifest so recently in our midst.  Moreover, we were
+forced at the muzzle of a six-shooter, in the hands of the
+above-mentioned Sundown, to insert that illiterate and blood-thirsty
+gentleman's screed in the MESA NEWS, as he, together with the gang of
+cutthroats with whom he seems in league, stood over us with drawn
+weapons until the entire issue had been run off.  Such is the condition
+of affairs under the present corrupt administration of our suffering
+State."
+
+Such advertising, Sundown reflected, breathing of battle and carnage,
+would obviate the necessity for future upholding of his reputation in a
+physical sense.  Great is the power of the press!  It became whispered
+about that he was a two-gun man of dexterous attainments in dispensing
+lead and that his mild and even apologetic manner was but a cloak.
+Accident and the tongues of men earned for Sundown that peace which he
+so thoroughly loved.  He became immune to strife.  When he felt his
+outward attitude sagging a little, he re-read the clipping and braced
+up.
+
+Sundown rode to the Concho gate, dismounted and opened it.  Chance ran
+ahead, leaping up as Corliss came from the ranch-house.
+
+"Got them holes plugged in the tank," said Sundown.  "Got the engine
+runnin' ag'in and things is fine.  You goin' to put them cattle back on
+the water-hole range?"
+
+"Yes, as soon as Bud can get around again.  He's up, but he can't ride
+yet."
+
+"How's Bull?"
+
+"Oh, he's all right.  Mebby-So's laid up yet.  He got it pretty bad."
+
+"Well, I reckon they ain't goin' to be no more fightin' 'bout cattle
+and sheep.  I stopped by to the Loring ranch.  Ole man Loring was sure
+ugly, so I reckon he's feelin' nacheral ag'in.  He was like to get mad
+at me for stopping but his gal, Nell, she smoothed down his wool and
+asked me to stay and eat.  I wasn't feelin' extra hungry, so I come
+along up here."
+
+"I have some good news," said Corliss.  "Got a letter from Billy last
+week.  Didn't have time to tell you.  He's working for a broker in
+'Frisco.  I shouldn't wonder if he should turn up one of these days.
+How would you like to drive over to Antelope and meet him when he
+comes?"
+
+"I'd sure be glad.  Always did like Billy.  'Course you don't know when
+he's comin'--and I got to do some drivin' meself right soon."
+
+"So?"
+
+"Yep.  'Course I got the wagon, but they ain't no style to that.  I was
+wantin' a rig with style to it--like the buckboard."  Sundown fidgeted
+nervously with the buttons of his shirt.  He coughed, took off his hat,
+and mopped his face with a red bandanna.  Despite his efforts he grew
+warmer and warmer.  He was about to approach a delicate subject.
+Finally he seized the bull by the horns, so to speak, and his tanned
+face grew red.  "I was wantin' to borrow that buckboard, mebby,
+Saturday."
+
+"Sure!  Going to Antelope?"
+
+"Nope--not first.  I got business over to Chico Miguel's place.  I'm
+goin' to call on a lady."
+
+"Oh, I see!  Anita?"
+
+"Well, I sure ain't goin' to call on her ma--she's married a'ready."
+
+Despite himself, Corliss smiled.  "So that's what you wanted that new
+bed and table and the chairs for.  Did they get marked up much coming
+in?"
+
+"The legs some.  I rubbed 'em with that hoss-liniment you give me.  You
+can hardly tell.  It kind of smelled like turpentine, and I didn't have
+nothin' else."
+
+"Well, anything you want--"
+
+"I know, boss.  But this is goin' to be a quiet weddin'.  No
+brass-bands or ice-cream or pop-corn or style.  Just me and her
+and--and I reckon a priest, seein' she was brung up that way.  I ain't
+asked her yet."
+
+"What?  About getting married, or the priest?"
+
+"Nothin'.  We got kind of a eye-understandin' and her ma and me is good
+friends.  It's like this.  Bein' no hand to do love-makin' stylish, I
+just passes her a couple of bouquets onct or twict and said a few
+words.  Now, you see, if I get that buckboard and a couple of hosses--I
+sure would like the white ones--and drive over lookin' like business
+and slip the ole man a box of cigars I bought, and Mrs. Miguel that
+there red-and-yella serape I paid ten dollars for in Antelope, and show
+Anita me new contract with the Concho for pumpin' water for
+seventy-five bones a month, I reckon the rest of it'll come easy.  I'm
+figurin' strong on them white hosses, likewise.  Bein' white'll kind of
+look like gettin' married, without me sayin' it.  You see, boss, I'm
+short on the Spanish talk and so I have to do some figurin'."
+
+"Well, Sun, you have come along a lot since you first hit the Concho!
+Go ahead, and good luck to you!  If you need any money--"
+
+"I was comin' to that.  Seein' as you kind of know me--and seein' I'm
+goin' to git hitched--I was thinkin' you might lend me mebby a hundred
+on the contrac'."
+
+"I guess I can.  Will that be enough?"
+
+"Plenty.  You see I was figurin' on buyin' a few head of stock to run
+with yourn on the water-hole range."
+
+"Why, I can let you have the stock.  You can pay me when you get ready."
+
+"That's just it.  You'd kind of give 'em to me and I ain't askin'
+favors, except the buckboard and the white hosses."
+
+"But what do you want to monkey with cattle for?  You're doing pretty
+well with the water."
+
+"That's just it.  You see, Anita thinks I'm a rarin', high-ridin',
+cussin', tearin', bronco-bustin' cow-puncher from over the hill.  I
+reckon you know I ain't, but I got to live up to it and kind of let her
+down easy-like.  I can put on me spurs and chaps onct or twict a week
+and go flyin' out and whoopin' around me stock, and scarin' 'em to
+death, pertendin' I'm mighty interested in ridin' range.  If you got a
+lady's goat, you want to keep it.  'Course, later on, I can kind o'
+slack up.  Then I'm goin' to learn her to read American, and she can
+read that piece in the paper about me.  I reckon that'll kind of cinch
+up the idea that her husband sure is the real thing.  But I got to have
+them cows till she can learn to read."
+
+"We've got to brand a few yearlings that got by last round-up.  Bud
+said there was about fifteen of them.  You can ride over after you get
+settled and help cut 'em out.  What iron do you want to put on them?"
+
+"Well, seein' it's me own brand, I reckon it will be like this: A kind
+of half-circle for the sun, and a lot of little lines runnin' out to
+show that it's shinin', and underneath a straight line meanin' the
+earth, which is 'Sundown'--me own brand.  Could Johnny make one like
+that?"
+
+"I don't know.  That's a pretty big order.  You go over and tell Johnny
+what you want.  And I'll send the buckboard over Saturday."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII
+
+IMPROVEMENTS
+
+Out in a field bordered by the roadway a man toiled behind a
+disk-plough.  He trudged with seven-league strides along the furrows,
+disdaining to ride on the seat of the plough.  To effect a comfortable
+following of his operations he had lengthened the reins with
+clothes-line.  He drove a team of old and gentle white horses as
+wheelers.  His lead animals were mules, neither old nor gentle.  It is
+possible that this fact accounted for his being afoot.  He was arrayed
+in cowboy boots and chaps, a faded flannel shirt, and a Stetson.
+Despite the fact that a year had passed since he had practically
+"Lochinvared" the most willing Anita,--though with the full and joyous
+consent of her parents,--he still clung to the habiliments of the
+cowboy, feeling that they offset the more or less menial requirements
+of tilling the soil.  Behind him trailed a lean, shaggy wolf-dog who
+nosed the furrows occasionally and dug for prairie-dogs with
+intermittent zest.
+
+The toiler, too preoccupied with his ploughing to see more than his
+horses' heads and the immediate unbroken territory before them, did not
+realize that a team had stopped out on the road and that a man had
+leaped from the buckboard and was standing at the fence.  Chance,
+however, saw the man, and, running to Sundown, whined.  Sundown pulled
+up his team and wiped his brow.  "Hurt your foot ag'in?" he queried.
+"Nope?  Then what's wrong?"
+
+The man in the road called.
+
+Sundown wheeled and stood with mouth open.  "It's--Gee Gosh!  It's
+Billy!"
+
+He observed that a young and fashionably attired woman sat in the
+buckboard holding the team.  He fumbled at his shirt and buttoned it at
+the neck.  Then he swung his team around and started toward the fence.
+
+Will Corliss, attired in a quiet-hued business suit, his cheeks
+healthfully pink and his eye clear, smiled as the lean one tied the
+team and stalked toward him.
+
+Corliss held out his hand.  Sundown shook his head.  "Excuse me, Billy,
+but I ain't shakin' hands with you across no fence."
+
+And Sundown wormed his length between the wires and straightened up,
+extending a tanned and hairy paw.  "Shake, pardner!  Say, you're
+lookin' gorjus!"
+
+"My wife," said Corliss.
+
+Sundown doffed his sombrero sweepingly.  "Welcome to Arizona, ma'am."
+
+"This is my friend, Washington Hicks, Margery."
+
+"Yes, ma'am," said Sundown.  "It ain't my fault, neither.  I had
+nothin' to say about it when they hitched that name onto me.  I reckon
+I hollered, but it didn't do no good.  Me pals"--and Sundown shrugged
+his shoulder--"mostly gents travelin' for their health--got to callin'
+me Sundown, which is more poetical.  'Course, when I got married--"
+
+"Married!" exclaimed Corliss, grinning.
+
+"You needn't to grin, Billy.  Gettin' married's mighty
+responsible-like."
+
+Corliss made a gesture of apology.  "So you're homesteading the
+water-hole?  Jack wrote to me about it.  He didn't say anything about
+your getting married."
+
+"Kind of like his not sayin' anything about your gettin' hitched up,
+eh?  He said he was hearin' from you, but nothin' about Misses Corliss.
+Please to expect my congratulations, ma'am--and you, too, Billy."
+
+"Thank you!" said Mrs. Corliss, smiling.  "Will has told me a great
+deal about you."
+
+"He has, eh?  Well, I'm right glad to be acquainted by heresy.  It kind
+of puts you on to what to expect.  But say, it's hot here.  If you'll
+drive back to me house, I'd sure like to show you the improvements."
+
+"All right, Sun!  We'll drive right in and wait for you."
+
+
+They did not have to wait, however.  Sundown, leaving his team at the
+fence, took a short cut to the house.  He entered the back door and
+called to Anita.
+
+"Neeter," he said, as she hastened to answer him, "they's some friends
+of mine just drivin' up.  If you could kind of make a quick change and
+put on that white dress with the leetle roses sprinkled on it--quick;
+and is--is he sleepin'?"
+
+"Si!  He is having the good sleep."
+
+"Fine!  I'll hold 'em off till you get fixed up.  It's me ole pal,
+Billy Corliss,--and he's brung along a wife.  We got to make a good
+front, seein' it's kind of unexpected.  Wrastle into that purty dress
+and don't wake him up."
+
+"Si!  I go queek."
+
+"Why, this is fine!" said Corliss, entering, hat in hand, and gazing
+about the room.  "It's as snug and picturesque as a lodge."
+
+"Beautiful!" exclaimed the enthusiastic Margery, gazing at the Navajo
+rugs, the clean, white-washed walls against which the red ollas, filled
+with wild flowers, made a pretty picture, and the great grizzly-bear
+rug thrown across a home-made couch.  "It's actually romantic!"
+
+"Me long suit, lady.  We ain't got much, but what we got goes with this
+kind of country."
+
+Margery smiled.  "Oh, Will, I'd like a home like this.  Just simple and
+clean--and comfortable.  It's a real home."
+
+"Me wife's comin' in a minute.  While she's--er--combin' her hair,
+mebby you'd like to see some of the improvements."  And Sundown marched
+proudly to the new dining-room--an extension that he had built
+himself--and waved an invitation for his guests to behold and marvel.
+
+The dining-room was, in its way, also picturesque.  The exceedingly
+plain table was covered with a clean white cloth.  The furniture, owing
+to some fortunate accident of choice, was not ornate but of plain
+straight lines, redeemed by painted ollas filled with flowers.  The
+white walls were decorated with two pictures, a lithograph of the
+Madonna,--which seemed entirely in keeping with the general tone of the
+room, but which would have looked glaringly out of place anywhere
+else,--and an enlarged full-length photograph, framed, of an
+exceedingly tall and gorgeous cowboy, hat in hand, quirt on wrist, and
+looking extremely impressive.  Beside the cowboy stood a great, shaggy
+dog--Chance.  And, by chance, the picture was a success.
+
+"Why, it's you, Sun!" exclaimed Corliss, striding to the picture.  "And
+it's a dandy!  I'd hang it in the front room."'
+
+"That's what Neeter was sayin'.  But I kind of like it in here.  You
+see, Neeter sets there and I set here where I can see me picture while
+I'm eatin'.  It kind of gives me a good appetite.  'Course, lookin' out
+the window is fine.  See them there mesas dancin' in the sun, and the
+grass wavin' and me cows grazing and 'way off like in a dream them blue
+hills!  It's sure a millionaire picture!  And it don't cost nothin'."
+
+"That's the best of it!" said Corliss heartily.  "We're going to
+build--over on the mesa near the fork.  You remember?"
+
+Sundown's flush was inexplicable to Margery, but Corliss understood.
+He had ridden the trail toward the fork one night. . . .  But that was
+past, atoned for. . . .  He would live that down.
+
+"It's a purty view, over there," said Sundown gently.
+
+And the two men felt that that which was not forgotten was at least
+forgiven--would never again be mentioned.
+
+"And me kitchen," said Sundown, leading the way, "is Neeter's.  She
+runs it.  There's more good eats comes out of it than they is fancy
+crockery in it, which just suits me.  And out here"--and the party
+progressed to the back yard--"is me new corral and stable and
+chicken-coop.  I made all them improvements meself, durin' the winter.
+Reckon you saw the gasoline-engine what does the pumpin' for the tanks.
+I wanted to have a windmill, but the engine works faster.  It's kind of
+hot, ma'am, and if you'll come in and set down I reckon me wife's got
+her hair--"
+
+"Wah!  Wah!  Wah!" came in a crescendo from the bedroom.
+
+Sundown straightened his shoulders.  "Gee Gosh, he's gone and give it
+away, already!"
+
+Corliss and his wife glanced at their host inquisitively.
+
+"Me latest improvement," said Sundown, bowing, as Anita, a plump brown
+baby on her arm, opened the bedroom door and stood bashfully looking at
+the strangers.
+
+"And me wife," he added.
+
+Corliss bowed, but Margery rushed to Anita and held out her arms.  "Oh,
+let me take him!" she cried.  "What big brown eyes!  Let me hold him!
+I'll be awfully careful!  Isn't he sweet!"
+
+They moved to the living-room where Anita and Margery sat side by side
+on the couch with the baby absorbing all their attention.
+
+Sundown stalked about the room, his hands in his pockets, vainly
+endeavoring to appear very mannish and unconcerned, but his eye roved
+unceasingly to the baby.  He was the longest and most upstanding
+six-feet-four of proud father that Margery or her husband had ever had
+the pleasure of meeting.
+
+"He's got Neeter's eyes--and--and her--complexion, but he's sure got me
+style.  He measures up two-feet-six by the yardstick what we got with
+buyin' a case of bakin'-soda, and he ain't a yearlin' yet.  I don't
+just recollec' the day but I reckon Neeter knows."
+
+"He's great!" exclaimed Corliss.  "Isn't he, Margery?"
+
+"He's just the cutest little brown baby!" said Margery, hugging the
+plump little body.
+
+"He--he ain't so _turruble_ brown," asserted Sundown.  "'Course, he's
+tanned up some, seein' we keep him outside lots.  I'm kind o' tanned up
+meself, and I reckon he takes after me."
+
+"He has a head shaped just like yours," said Margery, anxious to please
+the proud father.
+
+"Then," said Sundown solemnly, "he's goin' to be a pole."
+
+Anita, proud of her offspring, her husband, her neat and clean home,
+laughed softly, and held out her arms for the baby.  With a kick and a
+struggle the young Sundown wriggled to her arms and snuggled against
+her, gravely inspecting the pink roses on his mother's white dress.
+They were new to him.  He was more used to blue gingham.  The roses
+were interesting.
+
+"Yes, Billy's me latest improvement," said Sundown, anxious to assert
+himself in view of the presence of so much femininity and a
+correspondingly seeming lack of vital interest in anything save the
+baby.
+
+"Billy!" said Corliss, turning from where he had stood gazing out of
+the window.
+
+"Uhuh!  We named him Billy after you."
+
+Corliss turned again to the window.
+
+Sundown stepped to him, misinterpreting his silence.  He put his hand
+on Corliss's shoulder.  "You ain't mad 'cause we called him that, be
+you?"
+
+"Mad!  Say, Sun,"--and Corliss laughed, choked, and brushed his eyes.
+"Sun, I don't deserve it."
+
+"Well, seein' what I been through since I was his size, I reckon I
+don't either.  But he's here, and you're here and your wife--and things
+is fine!  The sun is shinin' and the jiggers out on the mesa is
+chirkin' and to-morrow's goin' to be a fine day.  There's nothin' like
+bankin' on to-morrow, 'specially if you are doin' the best you kin
+today."  And with this bit of philosophy, Sundown, motioning to
+Corliss, excused himself and his companion as they strode to the
+doorway and out to the open.  There they talked about many things
+having to do with themselves and others until Margery, hailing them
+from the door, told them that dinner was waiting.
+
+After dinner the men foregathered in the shade of an acacia and smoked,
+saying little, but each thinking of the future.  Sundown in his
+peculiarly optimistic and half-melancholy way, and Corliss with mingled
+feelings of hope and regret.  He had endeavored to live down his past
+away from home.  He had succeeded in a measure: had sought and found
+work, had become acquainted with his employer's daughter, told her
+frankly of his previous manner of life, and found, not a little to his
+astonishment, that she had faith in him.  Then he wrote to his brother,
+asking to come back.  John Corliss was more than glad to realize that
+Will had straightened up.  If the younger man was willing to reclaim
+himself among folk who knew him at his worst, there must be something
+to him.  So Corliss had asked his brother to give him his employer's
+address; had written to the employer, explaining certain facts
+regarding Will's share in the Concho, and also asking that he urge Will
+to come home.  Just here Miss Margery had something to say, the
+ultimate result of which was a more definite understanding all around.
+If Will was going back to Arizona, Margery was also going.  And as
+Margery was a young woman quietly determined to have her way when she
+knew that it was right to do so, they were married the day before Will
+Corliss was to leave for Arizona.  This was to be their honeymoon.
+
+All of which was in Will Corliss's mind as he lay smoking and gazing at
+the cloudless sky.  It may be added to his credit that he had not
+returned because of the money that was his when he chose to claim it.
+Rather, he had realized--and Margery had a great deal to do with his
+newer outlook--that so long as he stayed away from home he was
+confessing to cowardice.  Incidentally Margery, being utterly feminine,
+wanted to see Arizona and the free life of the range, of which Corliss
+had told her.  As for Nell Loring . . .  Corliss sighed.
+
+"It sure is hot," muttered Sundown.  "'Course, you'll stay over and
+light out in the mornin' cool.  You and me can sleep in the front room.
+'T ain't the fust time we rustled for a roost.  And the wimmen-folks
+can bunk in the bedroom.  Billy he's right comf'table in his big
+clothes-basket.  He's a sure good sleeper, if I do say it."
+
+"We could have gone on through," said Corliss, smiling.  "Of course
+we'd have been late, but Margery likes driving."
+
+"Well, if you had 'a' gone through--and I'd 'a' _ketched_ you at
+it--I--I--I'd 'a' changed Billy's name to--to somethin' else."  And
+Sundown frowned ferociously.
+
+Corliss laughed.  "But we didn't.  We're here--and it's mighty good to
+breathe Arizona air again.  You never really begin to love Arizona till
+you've been somewhere else for a while."
+
+"And bein' married helps some, too," suggested Sundown.
+
+"Yes, a whole lot.  Margery's enthusiasm makes me see beautiful things
+that I'd passed a hundred times before I knew her."
+
+"That's correc'," concurred Sundown.  "Now, take Gentle Annie, for
+instance--"
+
+"You mean Mrs.--er--Sundown?"
+
+"Nope!  Me tame cow.  'Annie' is American for 'Anita,' so I called her
+that.  Now, that there Gentle Annie's just a regular cow.  She ain't
+purty--but she sure gives plenty milk.  Neeter got me to seein' that
+Gentle Annie's eyes was purty and mournful-like and that she was a
+right handsome cow.  If your wife's pettin' and feedin' somethin', and
+callin' it them there smooth Spanish names, a fella's wise to do the
+same.  It helps things along."
+
+"Little Billy, for instance," suggested Corliss.
+
+"Leetle Billy is right!  But he couldn't help bein' good-lookin', I
+guess.  He's different.  Fust thing your wife said wuz he took after
+his pa."
+
+"You haven't changed much," said Corliss, smiling.
+
+"Me?  Mebby not--outside; but say, inside things is different.  I got
+feelin's now what I never knowed I had before.  Why, sometimes, when
+Neeter is rockin' leetle Bill, and singing and me settin' in the door,
+towards evenin', and everything fed up and happy, why, do you know, I
+feel jest like cryin'.  Plumb foolish, ain't it?"
+
+"I don't know about that, Sun."
+
+"Well, you will some day," asserted Sundown, taking him literally.  "'T
+ain't gettin' married what makes a man, but it's a dum' poor one what
+don't make the best of things if he is hitched up to a good girl.  Only
+one thing--it sure don't give a fella time to write much po'try."
+
+Corliss did not smile.  "You're living the poetry," he said with simple
+sincerity.
+
+"Which is correc', Billy.  And speakin' of po'try, I reckon I got to go
+feed them pigs.  They's gruntin' somethin' scand'lous for havin'
+comp'ny to our house--and anyhow, they's like to wake up leetle Bill."
+
+And Sundown departed to feed his pigs.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX
+
+A MAN'S COUNTRY
+
+"As for that," said John Corliss, gazing out across the mesa, "Loring
+and I shook hands--over the line fence.  That's settled."
+
+Sundown had just dismounted.  He stood holding the reins of his old
+saddle-horse "Pill."  He had ridden to the Concho to get his monthly
+pay.  "And pore leetle ole Fernando--he's gone," said Sundown.  "That's
+jest the difference between _one_ fella doin' what he thinks is right
+and a _bunch_ of fellas shootin' up themselves.  The one fella gets it
+every time.  The bunch, bein' so many of 'em, gets off.  Mebby that's
+law, but it ain't fair."
+
+"There's a difference, Sun.  A fight in the open and downing a man from
+ambush--two mighty different things."
+
+"Well, mebby.  But I'm feelin' sad for that leetle Fernando jest the
+same.--That Billy's new house?"
+
+"Yes.  They expect to get settled this month."
+
+"Gee Gosh!  I been so busy I missed a bunch of days.  Reckon I got to
+rustle up somethin' for a weddin' present.  I know, be Gosh!  I'll send
+'em me picture.  Billy was kind of stuck on it."
+
+"Good idea, Sun.  But I guess you'll miss it yourself."
+
+"I dunno.  Neeter ain't lookin' at it as much as she used to.  She's
+busy lookin' after leetle Bill--and me.  'Course I can get another one
+took most any time."
+
+"Make it two and give me one," said Corliss.
+
+"You ain't joshin'?"
+
+"No.  I'll hang it in the office."
+
+"Then she gets took--immediate."
+
+Chance, who stood watching the two men, rose and wagged his tail.
+
+Chance never failed to recognize that note in his master's voice.  It
+meant that his master was pleased, enthusiastic, happy, and Chance,
+loyal companion, found his happiness in that of his friends.
+
+"Well," said Sundown, "I reckon I got to be joggin'.  Thanks for the
+check."
+
+Corliss waved his hand.  "I'll step over to the gate with you.  Thought
+perhaps you'd stay and see Billy."
+
+"Nope.  I ain't feelin' like meetin' folks today.  Don' know why.
+Sky's clear and fine, but inside I feel like it was goin' to rain.
+When you comin' down to see leetle Bill and Neeter?"
+
+"Pretty soon.  Is Billy well?"
+
+"Well!  Gee Gosh!  If you could hear the langwidge he uses when Neeter
+puts him to bed and he don't want to go!  Why, yesterday he was on the
+floor playin' with Chance and Chance got tired of it and lays down to
+snooze.  Billy hitches along up to Chance, and _Bim_! he punches Chance
+on the nose.  Made him sneeze, too!  Why, that kid ain't afraid of
+nothin'--jest like his pa.  I reckon Billy told you that his wife said
+that leetle Billy took after me, eh?  Leave it to a woman to see them
+things!"
+
+"Well, I'm mighty glad you're settled, and making a go of it, Sun."
+
+"So be I.  I was recollectin' when I fust come into this country and
+landed at that water-hole.  It was kind of a joke then, but it ain't no
+joke now.  Funny thing--that bunch of punchers what started me lookin'
+for that there hotel that time--they come jinglin' up last week.
+Didn't know I was the boss till one of 'em grins after sizin' me up and
+says--er--well, two three words what kids hadn't ought to hear, and
+then, 'It's him, boys!'  Then I steps out and says, 'It is, gents.
+Come right in and have dinner and it won't cost you fellas a cent.  I
+told you I'd feed you up good when I got me hotel to runnin'.'  And
+sure enough, in they come and we fed 'em.  They was goin' to the Blue.
+They bunked in me hay that night.  Next mornin' they acted kind of
+queer, sayin' nothin' except, 'So-long,' when they lit out.  And what
+do you think!  They went and left four dollars and twenty-eight cents
+in the sugar-bowl--and a piece of paper with it sayin', 'For the kid.'
+We never found it out till I was drinkin' me coffee that night and
+liked to choked to death on a nickel.  Guess them punchers ain't so
+bad."
+
+"No.  They stopped here next day.  Said they'd never had a finer feed
+than you gave 'em."
+
+"Neeter is sure some cook.  Pretty nigh's good as me.  Well, so-long,
+Jack.  I--I--kind of wish you was buildin' a new house yourself."
+
+Corliss, standing with his hand on the neck of Sundown's horse, smiled.
+"Arizona's a man's country, Sun."
+
+"She sure is!" said Sundown, throwing out his chest.  "And lemme tell
+you, Jack, it's a man's business to get married and settle
+down--and--raise more of 'em.  'Specially like _me_ and _you_ and Bud
+and Hi--only Hi's gettin' kind of old.  She's a fine country, but she
+needs improvin'.  Sometimes them improvements keeps you awake nights,
+but they're worth it!"
+
+"Yes, I believe they're worth it," said Corliss, "So-long, Sun."
+
+"So-long, Jack.  I got to get back and milk Gentle Annie.  We're
+switchin' Billy onto the bottle, and he don't like to be kep' waitin'."
+
+Chance, following Sundown, trotted behind the horse a few steps, then
+turned and ran back to Corliss.  He nuzzled the rancher's hand, whined,
+and leapt away to follow his master.
+
+
+
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Sundown Slim, by Henry Hubert Knibbs
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