One day, arriving about the same time, but by different trails, two
young chaps rode up to the Diamond-Cross ranch, on the Little Piedra,
and asked for work. Both were dressed neatly and sprucely in cowboy
costume. One was a straight-set fellow, with delicate, handsome
features, short, brown hair, and smooth face, sunburned to a golden
brown. The other applicant was stouter and broad-shouldered, with fresh,
red complexion, somewhat freckled, reddish, curling hair, and a rather
plain face, made attractive by laughing eyes and a pleasant mouth.

The superintendent of the Diamond-Cross was of the opinion that he could
give them work. In fact, word had reached him that morning that the camp
cook--a most important member of the outfit--had straddled his broncho
and departed, being unable to withstand the fire of fun and practical
jokes of which he was, ex officio, the legitimate target.

"Can either of you cook?" asked the superintendent.

"I can," said the reddish-haired fellow, promptly. "I've cooked in camp
quite a lot. I'm willing to take the job until you've got something else
to offer."

"Now, that's the way I like to hear a man talk," said the
superintendent, approvingly. "I'll give you a note to Saunders, and
he'll put you to work."

Thus the names of John Bascom and Charles Norwood were added to the
pay-roll of the Diamond-Cross. The two left for the round-up camp
immediately after dinner. Their directions were simple, but sufficient:
"Keep down the arroyo for fifteen miles till you get there." Both being
strangers from afar, young, spirited, and thus thrown together by chance