away and straddled down a headlong hill. Frost was unknown; the pipe
was supported by forked posts of height assorted to need, an expedient
easier than ditching that iron hillside. The water discharged into a
fenced and foursquare earthen reservoir; below it was a small corral
of cedar stakes; through the open gate, as he rode by, Pete saw a long
watering-trough with a float valve. Before the dugout stood a patriarchal
juniper, in the shade of which two saddled horses stood droop-hipped,
comfortably asleep. Waking, as Pete drew near, they adjusted their
disarray in some confusion and eyed the newcomers with bright-eyed
inquiry. Midnight, tripping by, hailed them with a civil little whinny.

A tall, heavy man upreared himself from the shade. His example was
followed by another man, short and heavy. Blankets were spread on a
tarpaulin beyond them.

"'Light, stranger," said the tall man heartily. "Unsaddle and eat a small
snack. We was just taking a little noonday nap for ourselves."

"Beans, jerky gravy, and bread," announced the short man, waiter fashion.
"I'll hot up the coffee."

With the word he fed little sticks and splinters to a tiny fire, now
almost burned out, near the circumference of that shaded circle.

"Yes, to all that; thank you," said Pete, slipping off.

He loosened the cinches; so doing he caught from the corner of his eye
telegraphed tidings, as his two hosts rolled to each other a single
meaningful glance, swift, furtive, and white-eyed. Observing which, every
faculty of Pete Johnson's mind tensed, fiercely alert, braced to