re a pack. The other, a short-coupled, sturdy buckskin, was saddled. Evidently Cheyenne was trying to catch up with his dinner schedule, for as Bartley entered

eman in from the mesas, and two visiting ladies from an adjacent town comprised the tale of guests that morning.

pon an author. Wishful had made the fact known, with some pride. The ladies, whom Cheyenne designated as "cow-bunnies,"---or wives of ranchers,--were dressed in their "best clo

y when you ride our way

n in her face. Her "best clothes" rather accentuated these details. But back of it al

ey," said Cheye

n had been itching to do. Bartle

ds of mine," said Cheye

its climax. Yet Bartley had gathered from Wishful that Panha

enne seemed disappointed. When cigars were going round, it seemed strange not to take full advantage of

th?" queri

some of the bills changed to grub. I reckon I'll

zed out across the morning mesa. A Navajo buck loped past a

g up a cinch, sm

e in a hurry, leavin'. But you notice how easy he takes

in for medici

s squaw, and cigarettes for himself, with a bottle

es and ch

d smoke a tailor-made cigarette at the same time? Yo

" laughed

" queried Cheyenne as he busi

s my first

f I was prospectin' round lookin' for Injun romance I'd use a pair of f

u start?" a

me. And that's wh

enator Brown and his wife,

I'm on my w

once--but the

, cayuse,

ridin' the o

od and a-f

s eat and som

cayuse, g

ease of the old hand. Bartley noticed that the pack-horse had no lead-rope, nor had he been tied. Bartley did not know that Filaree,

ading humans. And he read in Bartley's glance a half-awakened desire to outfit and hit the trail himself. But Cheyen

I don't g

, cayuse,

n' here and we'

, cayuse,

e Josh that st

gray pack-h

in't got no

, cayuse,

ossed the railroad tracks an

e station roof opposite, and danced flickering across the polished tracks of the railroad. Presently Bartley stopped pacing his ro

. Just fifty miles to Senator Brown's ranch. Drop in and see us. As the chap in Denver said when he wrote to his friend in El Paso: 'Drop into Denver some evening an

gar ashes, cigarette stubs, and burned matches. Wishful, besides being proprietor of the Antelope House, was chambermaid,

ley glanced at the signatures on the register. Near the bottom

ne belong, anyway?

s broom. "Wherever he happens to be." And

aveling companio

s fixed on a defunct cigar. "Never heard either

resently he rose. A slow smile illumined his face. He had found a pair of dice in the litter on the floor. He made a throw, shook his head, and picked up the dice. His sweeping became more sprightly. Amused b

pay my bill,

the amount. Bartley pro

change. He shook his head. "You g

or that two dolla

ed up. "You said somethin'

hesitated, then gestured magnificently toward space. What was the arrival of a mer

n steamed in and was gone.

unfamiliar with the good points of a horse. He rejected the sorrel with the Roman nose, as stubborn and foolish. The flea-bitten gray was all horse, but he had a white-rimmed

a minute to spare?" he queried as Wishful fi

ollowed Bartley r

uying a saddle-hor

l bar. "Why don't you rent one--and tu

ne, and I may use

f my hosses, Mr. Bartley. But I

n that sorrel,

as showy and looked fast. Bartley did not want the animal

shful, "I'd let hi

you take fo

hoss I got. I don't think

dred for the sorrel." Ba

e he owned to awaken Bartley's interest. The best horse in the corral w

price on the gray

have him, for a hund

d a hundred and twenty-five f

ep

ray is the best ho

sure

r that big bay, there. I don't want to

terner didn't know horses. "That bay ain't much account, Mr. Bartley. He's slow--

gh for me. I'll give

nt to sell the bay for that sum, yet he w

you raised?" he

Kent

ght you was f

tucky until I w

folks hoss

. "My father always kept a few

ther." Wishful's pensive countenance lighted suddenly. "You'll be wantin' a ri

e outfit. It was old and worn, and worth, Bart

--hoss and rig and all, for two hun

e shop across from the station

and me ninety dollars. If the bay is the poorest horse you o

Say, Mr. Bartley, give me a hundred and fi

en a horse-trade begins; but I a

s mornin'. Private eddication comes high, but I'm game. Write your check for a hundred--and take the bay. By rights I ought to give him to you, seein

ng along, I plan to visit Senator Brown. How lon

t till you're gray-headed and got whiskers. That ole hoss is the best cow-hoss in Antelope County--and I'm referrin' you to Steve

mp on the mesa two or thr

idn't try to buy the Antelope House. You'd started in pricin' the stable, and kind of milled around and ast me what I'd sell the kitchen fo

the rest of it. Will you engineer the deal

g I was showin' you. She ain't mu

'd rather buy

you aim t

e I'll need a blanket

pack-hoss along. He'll most like camp at the first water, about twenty-five miles south.

eatly enhanced by the recent horse-deal. When it came to the question of clothing, Wishful wisely suggested overalls and a rowdy, as being weather and brush proof. Incidentally Wishful aske

e, afore they pay their bills, and keep

d the cantle, and a small canteen hung on the horn, he felt equipped to make the journey. Wishful suggest

and rider, giving them a final inspection. "And you don't have to cinch ole Dobe extra ti

eried Bartley. "You k

after you had saddled hi

going on

e best of you in a hoss-trade, wir

in the saddle and touc

enator Steve--and Che

is recent guest until he had

calendar. A humorous smile played about his mouth. It was a mark to indicate the