He made a wide sweep of his right arm, indicating the
southwest, and there was that in his action which seemed
significant of a vast and barren region.

"Stock up?" queried Duane, thoughtfully.

"Shore. A feller has jest got to eat. I can rustle along
without whisky, but not without grub. Thet's what makes it so
embarrassin' travelin' these parts dodgin' your shadow. Now,
I'm on my way to Mercer. It's a little two-bit town up the
river a ways. I'm goin' to pack out some grub."

Stevens's tone was inviting. Evidently he would welcome Duane's
companionship, but he did not openly say so. Duane kept
silence, however, and then Stevens went on.

"Stranger, in this here country two's a crowd. It's safer. 1
never was much on this lone-wolf dodgin', though I've done it
of necessity. It takes a damn good man to travel alone any
length of time. Why, I've been thet sick I was jest achin' fer
some ranger to come along an' plug me. Give me a pardner any
day. Now, mebbe you're not thet kind of a feller, an' I'm shore
not presumin' to ask. But I just declares myself sufficient."

"You mean you'd like me to go with you?" asked Duane.

Stevens grinned. "Wal, I should smile. I'd be particular proud
to be braced with a man of your reputation."