watching the riders.

The man turned impulsively, his face lighted with enthusiasm. "By Jove!"
he exclaimed, "but that man can ride!"

"Yes, Phil does pretty well," returned the Dean indifferently. "Won the
championship at Prescott the other day." Then, more heartily: "He's a
mighty good boy, too--take him any way you like."

As he spoke the cattleman looked the stranger over critically, much as
he would have looked at a steer or horse, noting the long limbs, the
well-made body, the strong face and clear, dark eyes. The man's dress
told the Dean simply that the stranger was from the city. His bearing
commanded the older man's respect. The stranger's next statement, as he
looked thoughtfully over the wide Land of valley and hill and mesa and
mountain, convinced the Dean that he was a man of judgment.

"Arizona is a wonderful country, sir--wonderful!"

"Finest in the world, sir," agreed the Dean promptly. "There just
naturally can't be any better. We've got the climate; we've got the
land; and we've got the men."

The stranger looked at the Dean quickly when he said "men." It was worth
much to hear the Dean speak that word.

"Indeed you have," he returned heartily. "I never saw such men."

"Of course you haven't," said the Dean. "I tell you, sir, they just
don't make 'em outside of Arizona. It takes a country like this to