if the bunk-house proved too small or too hot.

The foreman, outraged beyond words, saddled at daybreak and rode to
the nearest town, and the unchosen half turned out in a body to watch
the departure of the explorers, which speaks eloquently of their
interest; for cowboys off duty are prone to sleep long.

Andy, as guide, bolted ahead of the party that he might open the gate.
Bolted is a good word, for his horse swerved and kept on running,
swerved again, and came down in a heap. Andy did not get up, and the
women screamed. Then Pink and some others hurried out and bore Andy,
groaning, to the bunk-house.

The visitors from the East gathered, perturbed, around the door,
sympathetic and dismayed. It looked very much as if their exploration
must end where it began, and the-girl-who-does-things looked about to
weep, until Andy, still groaning, sent Pink out to comfort them.

"He says you needn't give up the trip on his account," Pink announced
musically from the doorway. "He's drawing a map and marking the coulee
where the ruin is. He says most any of the boys that know the country
at all can find the place for yuh. And he isn't hurt permanent; he
strained his back so he can't ride, is all." Pink dimpled at the young
old lady who was admiring him frankly, and withdrew.

Inside, Andy Green was making pencil marks and giving the chosen half
explicit directions. At last he folded the paper and handed it to one
called Sandy.

"That's the best I can do for yuh," he finished. "I don't see how yuh