blank, cold, inscrutable stare of them bored me through to the back of
the neck. I suppose the man winked occasionally, but I never got that
impression. I've noticed that owls have this same intent, unwinking
stare--and wildcats.

"Mr. Hooper," said I, "can you keep me over night?"

It was a usual request in the old cattle country. He continued to stare
at me for some moments.

"Where are you from?" he asked at length. His voice was soft and low;
rather purring.

I mentioned our headquarters on the Gila: it did not seem worth while
to say anything about Box Springs only a dozen miles away. He stared at
me for some time more.

"Come in," he said, abruptly; and stood aside.

This was a disconcerting surprise. All I had expected was permission to
stop, and a direction as to how to find the bunk house. Then a more or
less dull evening, and a return the following day to collect on my
"dare." I stepped into the dimness of the hallway; and immediately after
into a room beyond.

Again I must remind you that this was the Arizona of the 'nineties. All
the ranch houses with which I was acquainted, and I knew about all of
them, were very crudely done. They comprised generally a half dozen
rooms with adobe walls and rough board floors, with only such
furnishings as deal tables, benches, homemade chairs, perhaps a battered