ed man.

"Hallo, Jacob!" cried Lew, as the laugh turned on the other man this
time.

But Arizona resented the interference, and rounded on him promptly.

"Say, you passon feller, I ain't heerd tell as it's the ways o' your
country to butt in an' boost folk on to a scrap. It's gener'ly sed
you're mostly ready to do the scrappin'."

"Which means?" Lew grinned in his large way.

"Wal, it mostly means--let's hear from you fust hand."

"It's not much use hearing from me on the subject of hogs. They aren't
great on 'em in my country. Besides, you seem quite at home with 'em."

Arizona sprang to his feet, and, walking over to the hulking form of
the parson's son, held his hand out.

"Shake," he said, with a grin that drew his parchment-like skin into
fierce wrinkles; "we live in the same shack."

Lew laughed with the rest, and when it died down observed--

"Look here, Arizona, when you get talking 'hog' you stand alone. The
whole Northwest bows to you on that subject. Now go and sit down like
a peaceable citizen, and remember that a man who is such a master in
the craft of hog-raising, who has lived with 'em, bred 'em, fed on
'em, and whose mental vision is bounded by 'em, has no right to down
inoffensive, untutored souls like ourselves. It isn't generous."

Arizona stood. He looked at the man; then he glanced at each face
around him and noted the smiles. One hand went up to his long, black
hair and he scratched his head, while his wild eyes settled themselves
on Tresler's broadly grinning features. Suddenly he walked back to his
seat, took up his dish of hash and continued his supper, making a
final remark as he ate.

"Langwidge? Gee! I pass."

And during the rest of the meal "hog" found no place. They discussed
the topic of the day threadbare. The night-riders filled their
thoughts to the exclusion of all else, and Tresler learned the details
of their recent exploits, and the opinion of each man on the outrages.
Even Teddy Jinks, youthful and only "slushy" as he was, was listened
to, so absorbed were these men in their cattle world.

"It's my belief," that reedy youth said, with profound finality,
"they're working fer a bust up. I'd gamble one o' Arizona's hogs to a
junk o' sow-belly ther' ain't no more of them rustlers around come the
fall. Things is hot, an' they're goin' to hit the trail, takin' all
they ken get right now."

It was good to be listening to the rough talk of these fellows again.
So good t