probability of their being able to locate his brother. The answers had
not been encouraging. At the end of three years he practically gave up
making inquiry and turned his whole attention to the management of the
Concho. There had been trouble between the cattle and sheep interests
and time had passed more swiftly than he had realized. His meeting
with Sundown had awakened the old regret for his brother's uncalled-for
disappearance. Had he been positive that his brother had been killed
in the wreck he would have felt a kind of relief. As it was, the
uncertainty as to his whereabouts, his welfare, worried and perplexed
him, especially in view of the fact that he was on his way to Antelope
to present to the Forest Service a petition from the cattle-men of the
valley for grazing allotments. The sheep had been destroying the
grazing on the west side of the river. There had been bickerings and
finally an open declaration of war against David Loring, the old
sheep-man of the valley. Corliss wished to avoid friction with David
Loring. Their ranches were opposite each other. And as Corliss was
known as level-headed and shrewd, it devolved upon him to present in
person the complaint and petition of his brother cattle-men. Argument
with David Loring, as he had passed the latter's homestead that
morning, had delayed him on his journey to Antelope. Presently he got
up and entered the ranch-house. Sundown followed and poked about in
the corners of the room. He found a bundle of gunny-sacks and
spreading them on the floor, laid his blankets on them.

Corliss stepped out and led Chinook to the distant mesa and picketed
him for the night. As he returned, he considered the advisability of
hiring the tramp to cook until his own cook returned from Phoenix. He
entered the house, kicked off his leather chaps, tossed his spurs into
a corner, and made a bed of his saddle-blankets and saddle. "I'll be
starting early," he said as he drew off his boots. "What are you