contemplating the village pump. "It gives me great pleasure to inform
you"--he hesitated and cleared his throat--"that them there words of
mine was expired by half a rabbit--small--and two cans of coffee. Had
I been fed up like youse"--and he bowed grandly--"there's no tellin'
what I might 'a' writ. Thankin' you for the box-office receipts, I am
yours to demand, Sundown Slim, of Outdoors, Anywhere, till further
notice."

Then he marched histrionically to the ranchhouse and made a fire in the
rusted stove.




CHAPTER III

THIRTY MILES TO THE CONCHO

John Corliss rode up to the water-hole, dismounted, and pushed through
the gate. His horse "Chinook" watched him with gently inquisitive
eyes. Chinook was not accustomed to inattention when he was thirsty.
He had covered the thirty miles from the Concho Ranch in five long,
dry, and dusty hours. He nickered. "In a minute," said Corliss. Then
he knocked at the ranch-house door. Riders of the Concho usually
strode jingling into the ranch-house without formality. Corliss,
however, had been gazing at the lean stovepipe for hours before he
finally decided that there was smoke rising from it. He knocked a
second time.

"She ain't locked," came in a rusty, smothered voice.