CHAPTER II.

JEFFERSON WORTH'S OFFERING.


When day broke over the topmost ridges of No Man's Mountains,
Jefferson Worth's outfit was ready to move. The driver of the
lighter rig with its four broncos set out for San Felipe. On the
front seat of the big wagon Texas Joe picked up his reins, sorted
them carefully, and glanced over his shoulder at his employer. "All
set?"

"Go ahead."

"You, Buck! Molly!" The lead mules straightened their traces. "Jack!
Pete!" As the brake was released with a clash and rattle of iron
rods, the wheelers threw their weight into their collars and the
wagon moved ahead.

Grim, tireless, world-old sentinels, No Man's Mountains stood guard
between the fertile land on their seaward side and the desolate
forgotten wastes of the East. They said to the country of green
life, of progress and growth and civilization, that marched to their
line on the West, "Halt!" and it stopped. To the land of lean want,
of gray death, of gaunt hunger, and torturing thirst, that crept to
their feet on the other side, "Stop!" and it came no farther. With