m without a great show of surprise and held out
his hand. He was bareheaded, and the hair which hung down to his
shoulders was snow-white. The face was seamed and lined, burned by the
sun of three score Arizona summers, and the small, blue eyes
twinkled.

"Hang me with a busted shoe string if it ain't Rathburn," said the old
man. "Why, boy, you're just in time for supper. Put your horse up
behind the cabin an' get in at the table. She's a big country, all
full of cactus; but the old man's got grub left!"

Rathburn laughed, rinsed his mouth out with water he dipped from the
spring in a battered tin cup, and took a swallow before he replied.

"Joe, there's two things I want--grub an' gaff. I know you've got
grub, or you wouldn't be here; but I don't know if you're any good at
the gaff any more."

The old man scrutinized him. "You look some older," he said finally.
"Not much of the wild, galootin' kid left in you, I 'spect. But don't
go gettin' fresh with me, or I'll clout you one with my prospectin'
pick. Go 'long now; put up your horse an' hustle inside. If you want
to wash up, I guess you can--bein' a visitor."

Rathburn chuckled, as he led his horse around behind the cabin, where
two burros were, and unsaddled him. Before he entered the cabin he
stood for a moment looking up the ridge down which he had come. The
old man watched him, but made no comment. As Rathburn sat down to the
table, however, he spoke.

"I kin hear anybody comin' down that trail over the ridge, while
they're a mile away," he said simply without looking up.

Rathburn flashed a look of admiration at the old man.

The glow of the sunset lit the hills with crimson fire, and a light
breeze stirred with the advent of the long, colorful desert twilight.
They ate in silence, washing down the hardy food with long drafts of
strong coffee. The old man asked no questions of his friend. He knew
that in time Rathburn would talk. A man's business in that desolate
land of dreadful distances was his own, save such of it as he wanted
to tell. It was the desert code.

Supper over, they went out to a little bench in front of the cabin.
There Joe Price lit his pipe, and Rathburn rolled a cigarette.

For some time they smoked in silence. The purple twilight drifted
over the hills, and the breeze freshened in welcome relief to the heat
of the day.

"Joe, I just had to come back," said Rathburn softly. "Something's
wrong with me. You wouldn't think I'd get h