I'll send yours on when Parker goes."

"All right."

"Well, so long."

"So long, Senor." They moved. The erratic Arizona breezes twisted the
dust of their going. Senor Johnson watched them dwindle. With them
seemed to go the joy in the old life. No longer did the long trail
possess for him its ancient fascination. He had become a domestic man.

"And I'm glad of it," commented Senor Johnson.

The dust eddied aside. Plainly could be seen the swaying wagon, the
loose-riding cowboys, the gleaming, naked backs of the herd. Then the
veil closed over them again. But down the wind, faintly, in snatches,
came the words of Jim Lester's song:

"Oh, Sam has a gun
That has gone to the bad,
Which makes poor old Sammy
Feel pretty, damn sad,
For that gun it shoots high,
And that gun it shoots low,
And it wabbles about
Like a bucking bronco!"

Senor Johnson turned and struck spurs to his willing pony.

CHAPTER TEN

THE DISCOVERY

Senor Buck Johnson loped quickly back toward the home ranch, his heart
glad at this fortunate solution of his annoyance. The home ranch lay
in plain sight not ten miles away. As Senor Johnson idly watched it
shimmering in the heat, a tiny figure detached itself from the mass and
launched itself in his direction.

"Wonder what's eating HIM!" marvelled Senor Johnson, "--and who is it?"

The figure drew steadily nearer. In half an hour it had approached
near enough to be recognised.

"Why, it's Jed!" cried the Senor, and spurred his horse. "What do you
mean, riding out with that foot?" he demanded sternly, when within
hailing distance.

"Foot, hell!" gasped Parker, whirling his horse alongside. "Your
wife's run away with Brent Palmer."

For fully ten seconds not the faintest indication proved that the
husband had heard, except that he lifted his bridle-hand, and the
well-trained pony stopped.

"What did you say?" he asked finally.

"Your wife's run away with Brent Palmer," repeated Jed, almost with
impatience.

Again the long pause.

"How do you know?" asked Senor Johnson, then.

"Know, hell! It's been going on for a month. Sang saw them drive off.
They took the buckboard. He heard 'em planning it. He was too scairt
to tell till they'd gone. I just found it out. They've been gone two
hours. Must be going to make the Limited." Parker fidgeted, impatient
to be off. "You're wasting time," he snapped at the motionless figure.