e was falling hopelessly in
love--had fallen hopelessly in love.

This was the position when the evening of the day came on which the
rancher's invitation to Fyles had been despatched. The supper hash had
been devoured by healthy men with healthy appetites. Work was
practically over, there was nothing more to be done but feed, water,
and bed down the horses. And Joe Nelson had not yet returned from
Forks; he was at least five hours overdue.

Arizona, practically recovered from his wound, was carefully soaping
his saddle, and generally preparing his accoutrements for return to
full work on the morrow. He had grown particularly sour and irritable
with being kept so long out of the saddle. His volcanic temper had
become even more than usually uncertain.

His convalescence threw him a good deal into Tresler's company, and a
sort of uncertain friendship had sprung up between them. Arizona at
first tolerated him, protested scathingly at his failures in the
craft, and ended by liking him; while the other cordially appreciated
the open, boisterous honesty of the cowpuncher. He was equally ready
to do a kindly action, or smite the man hip and thigh who chanced to
run foul of him. Tresler often told him that his nationality was a
mistake, that instead of being an American he should have been born in
Ireland.

Just now the prospect of once more getting to work had put Arizona
in high good temper, and he took his comrades' rough chaff
good-naturedly, giving as good as he got, and often a little better.

Jacob Smith had been watching him for some time, and a thoughtful grin
had quietly taken possession of his features.

"Soapin' yer saddle," he observed at last, as the lean man happened to
look up and see the grinning face in the doorway of the bunkhouse.
"Guess saddles do git kind o' slippery when you ain't slung a leg over
one fer a whiles. Say, best soap the knees o' yer pants too, Arizona.
Mebbe y'll sit tighter."

"Wal," retorted Arizona, bending to his work again, "I do allow ther's
more savee in that tip than most gener'ly slobbers off'n your tongue.
I'll kind o' turn it over some."

Jacob's grin broadened. "Guess I should. Your plug ain't been saddled
sence you wus sent sick. Soft soap ain't gener'ly in your line; makes
me laff to see you handlin' it."

"That's so," observed the other, imperturbably. "I 'lows it has its
uses. 'Tain't bad fer washin'. Guess you ain't tried it any?"

At that moment Raw Harris came