into bunks to the number of thirty or more. The other half was used as a
dining and living room. A long table, spread with oilcloth, extended down
the center, with a row of chairs on either side. The walls were decorated
with gaudy lithographs, circus posters and colored sheets taken from the
Sunday papers that occasionally drifted out that way. On a side table
were a number of well-thumbed magazines that Mrs. Melton had sent down
for the men to read in their rare moments of leisure. Saddles and harness
and lariats were hung on nails driven into the logs. Everything was rude
and simple, but scrupulously clean. The floor had been recently swept and
the oilcloth on the table was shining.

In a little extension at the southern end of the shack the cook was
clearing away the dishes from breakfast and making ready for the
noon-day meal. A couple of great dogs basked in the sunshine that
streamed through the open door. They jumped to their feet as their owner
approached and capered about him joyously in a manner that bespoke their
attachment.

A lank, muscular man at this moment came around a corner of the house.
His face was tanned to the color of mahogany and around his eyes were the
tiny wrinkles that come to men accustomed to peer into the wide spaces.
He had on a pair of sheepskin trousers with the fleece still adhering,
and his long legs had the slight crook that spoke of a life spent almost
entirely in the saddle. A buckskin shirt, a handkerchief knotted loosely
around his neck and a broad slouch hat with a rattlesnake skin encircling
it for a band completed his costume. There was about him the air of a man
accustomed to be obeyed, and yet there was no swagger or truculence in
his bearing. His glance was singularly fearless and direct, and the boys
warmed to him at first sight.