It needed only a glance for me to see that Colonel Sampson's ranch was
on a scale fitting the country.

The house was situated on the only elevation around Linrock, and it was
not high, nor more than a few minutes' walk from the edge of town.

It was a low, flat-roofed structure, made of red adobe bricks and
covered what appeared to be fully an acre of ground. All was green about
it except where the fenced corrals and numerous barns or sheds showed
gray and red.

Wright and the cowboys disappeared ahead of us in the cottonwood trees.
Colonel Sampson got out of the buckboard and waited for us. His face
wore the best expression I had seen upon it yet. There was warmth and
love, and something that approached sorrow or regret.

His daughter was agitated, too. I got out and offered my seat, which
Colonel Sampson took.

It was scarcely a time for me to be required, or even noticed at all,
and I took advantage of it and turned toward the town.

Ten minutes of leisurely walking brought me to the shady outskirts of
Linrock and I entered the town with mingled feelings of curiosity,
eagerness, and expectation.

The street I walked down was not a main one. There were small, red
houses among oaks and cottonwoods.

I went clear through to the other side, probably more than half a mile.