thirsty. He had covered the thirty miles from the Concho Ranch in five long, dry, and dusty hours. He nickered. "In a minute," said Corliss. Then he knocked at the ranch-house door. Riders of the C

ed a sec

," came in a rust

ing to encourage the smoke to more perpendicular behavior. He coughed. "She ain't good in her intentions, this

s slipped down

nd o' worked down toward her stummick

ied Corliss, glancing

ush on me right-of-way. I was behind and runnin' to make up time. I kind o' seen the leetle prairie-dog give me the red to slow down, but it was too late. Hit h

a railroad man, I take it

"Nope. Don't belong anywhere, I guess. My address when I'm t

in a

lope told me they wanted a cook at this hotel. I rec

es. Pretty stiff joke, s

tole me nanny, all right, but I f

k to the water-hol

; then they's some got a taste; then some's jest wet, but this here is fine! Felt l

ho, thirty m

wns in

e isn't a fence or a hous

ny cows in t

uns ten thousand h

our su

e ranch. Expected to make Antelope,

ouse and returned with the half rabbit. "I got some coffee, too. I can cook to beat the band when I got

do. Thanks. Say

n' po'try it's

try," said Corliss. "This

op, be you?" q

. W

I was jest

aveled some,

eet, and some freights. Had a pal onct. He was a college guy. Run on to him on a cattle-boat. He writ po

ecame o

y was a wreck-but gues

m?" inquired Corliss as Sundown

it don't need no Beaver hitched on to it to say what I

and gazed at the stars. "Said your friend was a college man. Wh

as Billy Corliss, but

did you lose

it a open switch-so they said after-and when they pulled the stitches, and took that plaster dingus off me leg, I starts out huntin' fo

d he loo

lue eyes and kind o' bright, wavy-like hair. He never

down's face. "You say he

n' a empty, just ahead of me. Then the whole train buckled up and

ng to do now? Go

job cooking but the pay ain't right her

ago. Didn't say a word to any one. He'd been to school East, an

er, what's

Corl

is mornin' that somethin' was goin' to happe

alf of the rabbit

re!

e the rest. You

ry. They ain't so much of me to keep as you

said Corliss. "You're the

ning. "I ain't no common hand-out grabber, not

anything about the Concho,

e? Who

hat belonge

, and kind of long, rough hai

ce; but how

for a week. Sure as you live! It was called 'Chance of the Concher

for his brother's uncalled-for disappearance. Had he been positive that his brother had been killed in the wreck he would have felt a kind of relief. As it was, the uncertainty as to his whereabouts, his welfare, worried and perplexed him, especially in view of the fact that he was on his way to Antelope to present to the Forest Service a petition from the cattle-men of the valley for grazing allotments. The sheep had been destroying the grazing on the west side of the river. There had been bickerings and finally an open declaration of war against David Loring, the old sheep-ma

the tramp to cook until his own cook returned from Phoenix. He entered the house, kicked off his leather chaps, tossed his spurs into a corner, a

t back to Antelope, I guess. Say, miste

know you, but I need a cook. The Concho is thirty miles in. I'm headed t

givin' me anoth

en you get to punchin' dough for fif

John Corliss-only he said Jack-what was needin' a cook. Just thunk of it, se

Corliss, smiling.

re'n anything I heard since I was a kid

take you to foot

easy, say 'bo

d a horse, then, even i

ed no horse. All

r way-to get out of here. I won't be there, but you

s here. He'd sure be glad to know his ole pal was cookin' for his brother. Me for

ke or take one," said Corliss. "Ho

in' and writin' po'try,