can't be any better. We've got the climate; we've got the
land; and we've got the men."

The stranger looked at the Dean quickly when he said "men." It was worth
much to hear the Dean speak that word.

"Indeed you have," he returned heartily. "I never saw such men."

"Of course you haven't," said the Dean. "I tell you, sir, they just
don't make 'em outside of Arizona. It takes a country like this to
produce real men. A man's got to be a man out here. Of course, though,"
he admitted kindly, "we don't know much except to ride, an' throw a
rope, an' shoot, mebby, once in a while."

The riders were returning and the Dean and the stranger walked back down
the little hill to the corral.

"You have a fine ranch here, Mr. Baldwin," again observed the stranger.

The Dean glanced at him sharply. Many men had tried to buy the
Cross-Triangle. This man certainly appeared prosperous even though he
was walking. But there was no accounting for the queer things that city
men would do.

"It does pretty well," the cattleman admitted. "I manage to make a
livin'."

The other smiled as though slightly embarrassed. Then: "Do you need any
help?"

"Help!" The Dean looked at him amazed.

"I mean--I would like a position--to work for you, you know."

The Dean was speechless. Again he surveyed the stranger with his
measuring, critical look. "You've never done any work," he said gently.

The man stood very straight before him and spoke almost defiantly. "No,
I haven't, but is that any reason why I should not?"

The Dean's eyes twinkled, as they have a way of doing when you say
something that he likes. "I'd say it's a better reason why you should,"
he returned quietly.

Then he said to Phil, who, having dismissed his four-footed pupil, was
coming toward them:

"Phil, this man wants a job. Think we can use him?"

The young man looked at the stranger with unfeigned surprise and with a
hint of amusement, but gave no sign that he had ever seen him before.
The same natural delicacy of feeling that had prevented the cowboy from
discussing the man upon whose privacy he felt he had intruded that
evening of their meeting on the Divide led him now to ignore the
incident--a consideration which could not but command the strange man's
respect, and for which he looked his gratitude.

There was something about the stranger, too, that to Phil seemed
different. This tall, well-built fellow who stood before them so
self-possessed, and ready for