ough he had lived among them for twenty years. It struck him
with the freshness of a surprise. Also it reacted chemically on his
mental processes to generate a new power within him. The new power,
being as yet unapplied, made him uneasy and restless and a little
irritable.

He tried to show some of his wonders to Parker.

"Jed," said he, one day, "this is a great country."

"You KNOW it," replied the foreman.

"Those tourists in their nickel-plated Pullmans call this a desert.
Desert, hell! Look at them flowers!"

The foreman cast an eye on a glorious silken mantle of purple, a
hundred yards broad.

"Sure," he agreed; "shows what we could do if we only had a little
water."

And again: "Jed," began the Senor, "did you ever notice them
mountains?"

"Sure," agreed Jed.

"Ain't that a pretty colour?"

"You bet," agreed the foreman; "now you're talking! I always, said
they was mineralised enough to make a good prospect."

This was unsatisfactory. Senor Johnson grew more restless. His
critical eye began to take account of small details. At the ranch
house one evening he, on a sudden, bellowed loudly for Sang, the
Chinese servant.

"Look at these!" he roared, when Sang appeared.

Sang's eyes opened in bewilderment.

"There, and there!" shouted the cattleman. "Look at them old newspapers
and them gun rags! The place is like a cow-yard. Why in the name of
heaven don't you clean up here!"

"Allee light," babbled Sang; "I clean him."

The papers and gun rags had lain there unnoticed for nearly a year.
Senor Johnson kicked them savagely.

"It's time we took a brace here," he growled, "we're livin' like a lot
of Oilers." [5]

[5] Oilers: Greasers--Mexicans

CHAPTER THREE

THE PAPER A YEAR OLD

Sang hurried out for a broom. Senor Johnson sat where he was, his
heavy, square brows knit. Suddenly he stooped, seized one of the
newspapers, drew near the lamp, and began to read.

It was a Kansas City paper and, by a strange coincidence, was dated
exactly a year before. The sheet Senor Johnson happened to pick up was
one usually passed over by the average newspaper reader. It contained
only columns of little two- and three-line advertisements classified as
Help Wanted, Situations Wanted, Lost and Found, and Personal. The
latter items Senor Johnson commenced to read while awaiting Sang and
the broom.

The notices were five in number. The first three were of the
mysterious newspaper