thinkin' fer a coon's age. Help us? Not he!"

Outside, our saddle-horses were hitched to the rail. We had managed to
save our horses. Ajax and I rode down the valley, golden with the
glory of the setting sun. Beyond, the bleak, brown hills were clothed
in an imperial livery of purple. The sky was amber and rose. But Ajax,
like Gallio, cared for none of these things. He was cursing his unruly
tongue. As we neared the big, empty barn, he turned in his saddle.

"Look here," said he, "we'll nip up to Pap's after supper. I shall ask
him to help us. I shall ask for a cheque."

"You expect me to go with you on this tomfool's errand?"

"Certainly. We must use a little tact. I'll beg his pardon--the doing
of it will make me sick--you shall ask for the cheque. Yes, we're
fools; otherwise we shouldn't be here in this forsaken wilderness."

* * * * *

Pap lived just outside the village in an _adobe_ built upon a
small hill to the north-west of our ranch. No garden surrounded it, no
pleasant live oaks spread their shade between the porch and the big
barns. Pap could sit on his porch and survey his domain stretching for
leagues in front of him, but he never did sit down in the daytime--
except on a saddle--and at night he went to bed early to save the
expense of oil. Knowing his habits, we rode up to the _adobe_
about eight. All was dark, and we could see, just below us, the
twinkling lights of Paradise. After thundering at the door twice, Pap
appeared, carrying a lantern. In answer to his first question, we told