So when he presently came upon two sway-backed burros that
showed the sweaty imprint of packsaddles freshly removed, and a
couple of horses also sweat roughened, he straightway assumed
that some one was making camp not far away. One of the horses was
hobbled, and they were all eating hungrily the grass that grew
along the gully's sides. Camp was not only close, but had not
yet reached suppertime, Bud guessed from the well-known range
signs.

Two or three minutes proved him right. He came upon a man just
driving the last tent peg. He straightened up and stared at Bud
unblinkingly for a few seconds.

"Howdy, howdy," he greeted him then with tentative
friendliness, and went on with his work. "You lost?" he added
carefully. A man walking down out of the barren hills, and
carrying absolutely nothing in the way of camp outfit, was enough
to whet the curiosity of any one who knew that country. At the
same time curiosity that became too apparent might be extremely
unwelcome. So many things may drive a man into the hills--but
few of them would bear discussion with strangers.

"Yes. I am, and I ain't." Bud came up and stood with his hands
in his coat pockets, and watched the old fellow start his fire.

"Yeah--how about some supper? If you am, and you ain't as
hungry as you look--"

"I'll tell the world I am, and then some. I ain't had a square