ers, but their eyes stick out like two raw oysters
when you mention the border country. Will you tackle it?"

"What's the proposition?"

"Come and see the old man. He'll put it to you."

They mounted their horses and rode the rest of the day. The desert
compassed them about, marvellously changing shape and colour, and every
character, with all the noiselessness of phantasmagoria. At evening
the desert stars shone steady and unwinking, like the flames of
candles. By moonrise they came to the home ranch.

The buildings and corrals lay dark and silent against the moonlight
that made of the plain a sea of mist. The two men unsaddled their
horses and turned them loose in the wire-fenced "pasture," the
necessary noises of their movements sounding sharp and clear against
the velvet hush of the night. After a moment they walked stiffly past
the sheds and cook shanty, past the men's bunk houses, and the tall
windmill silhouetted against the sky, to the main building of the home
ranch under its great cottonwoods. There a light still burned, for
this was the third day, and Buck Johnson awaited his foreman.

Jed Parker pushed in without ceremony.

"Here's your man, Buck," said he.

The stranger had stepped inside and carefully closed the door behind
him. The lamplight threw into relief the bold, free lines of his face,
the details of his costume powdered thick with alkali, the shiny butts
of the two guns in their open holsters tied at the bottom. Equally it
defined the resolute countenance of Buck Johnson turned up in inquiry.
The two men examined each other--and liked each other at once.

"How are you," greeted the cattleman.

"Good-evening," responded the stranger.

"Sit down," invited Buck Johnson.

The stranger perched gingerly on the edge of a chair, with an
appearance less of embarrassment than of habitual alertness.

"You'll take the job?" inquired the Senor.

"I haven't heard what it is," replied the stranger.

"Parker here--?"

"Said you'd explain."

"Very well," said Buck Johnson. He paused a moment, collecting his
thoughts. "There's too much cattle-rustling here. I'm going to stop
it. I've got good men here ready to take the job, but no one who knows
the country south. Three days ago I had a bunch of cattle stolen right
here from the home-ranch corrals, and by one man, at that. It wasn't
much of a bunch--about twenty head--but I'm going to make a starter
right here, and now. I'm going