' ain't no more reason to it than whistlin'
Methody hymns to a deaf mule. Can't see why you're mussin' y'self up
wi' these all-fired hoss thieves. You're askin' fer a sight more'n you
ken eat."

"And, like all men of such condition, I shall probably eat to
repletion, I suppose you mean."

Arizona turned a doubtful eye on the speaker, and quietly spat over
his horse's shoulder.

"Guess your langwidge ain't mine," he said thoughtfully; "but if
you're meanin' you're goin' to git your belly full, I calc'late you're
li'ble to git like a crop-bound rooster wi' the moult 'fore you're
through. An' I sez, why?"

Tresler shrugged. "Why does a man do anything?" he asked
indifferently.

"Gener'ly fer one of two reasons. Guess it's drink or wimmin." Again
he shot a speculating glance at his friend, and, as Tresler displayed
more interest in the distant view than in his remarks, he went on. "I
ain't heerd tell as you wus death on the bottle."

The object of his solicitude smiled round on him.

"Perhaps you think me a fool. But I just can't stand by seeing things
going wrong in a way that threatens to swamp one poor, lonely girl,
whose only protection is her blind father."

"Then it is wimmin?"

"If you like."

"But I don't jest see wher' them hoss thieves figger."

"Perhaps you don't, but believe me they do--indirectly." Tresler
paused. Then he went on briskly. "There's no need to go into details
about it, but--but I want to run into this gang. Do you know why?
Because I want to find out who this Red Mask is. It is on his
personality depends the possibility of my helping the one soul on this
ranch who deserves nothing but tender kindness at the hands of those
about her."

"A-men," Arizona added in the manner he had acquired in his "religion"
days.

"I must set her free of Jake--somehow."

Arizona's eyes flashed round on him quickly. "Jest so," he observed
complainingly. "That's how I wanted to do last night."

"And you'd have upset everything."

"Wrong--plumb wrong."

"Perhaps so," Tresler smiled confidently. "We are all liable to
mistakes."

Arizona's dissatisfied grunt was unmistakable. "Thet's jest how that
sassafras-colored, bull-beef Joe Nelson got argyfyin' when Jake come
around an' located him sleepin' off the night before in the hog-pen.
But it don't go no more'n his did, I guess. Howsum, it's wimmin. Say,
Tresler," the lean figure leant over toward him, and the wild eyes
looked earnestly into his--