"Where's yore hoss, man?" asked the new-comer with concern. "Where you
goin', headin' plum south, an' 'thout no hoss?"

"Oh," said Franklin, smiling, "I'm not going far; only over south a mile
or so. I want to find a friend. Colonel Battersleigh. I think his
place is only a mile or so from here."

"Sure," said the cowboy. "Old Batty--I know him. He taken up a quarter
below here. Ain't got his shack up yet. But say, that's a full mile
from yer. You ain't goin' to walk a mile, are you?"

"I've walked a good many thousand miles," said Franklin, "and I shouldn't
wonder if I could get over this one."

"They's all kind of fools in the world," said the rider sagely, and with
such calm conviction in his tone that again Franklin could not take
offence. They progressed a time in silence.

"Say," said the cowboy, after a time--"say, I reckon I kin lick you."

"Do you think so?" said Franklin calmly, pulling up his shoulders and
feeling no alarm.

"Shorely I do," said the other; "I reckon I kin lick you, er beat you
shootin', er throw you down."

"Friend," said Franklin judicially, "I have a good many doubts about your
being able to do all that. But before we take it up any further I would
like to ask you something."