ht, stranger," said the tall man heartily. "Unsaddle and eat a small
snack. We was just taking a little noonday nap for ourselves."

"Beans, jerky gravy, and bread," announced the short man, waiter fashion.
"I'll hot up the coffee."

With the word he fed little sticks and splinters to a tiny fire, now
almost burned out, near the circumference of that shaded circle.

"Yes, to all that; thank you," said Pete, slipping off.

He loosened the cinches; so doing he caught from the corner of his eye
telegraphed tidings, as his two hosts rolled to each other a single
meaningful glance, swift, furtive, and white-eyed. Observing which, every
faculty of Pete Johnson's mind tensed, fiercely alert, braced to
attention.

"Now what? Some more of the same. Lights out! Protect yourself!" he
thought, taking off the saddle. Aloud he said:

"One of Zurich's ranches, isn't it? I saw ZK burned on the gateposts."

He passed his hand along Midnight's sweaty back for possible bruise or
scald; he unfolded the Navajo saddle blanket and spread it over the
saddle to dry. He took the _sudaderos_--the jute sweatcloths under the
Navajo--and draped them over a huge near-by boulder in the sun, carefully
smoothing them out to prevent wrinkles; to all appearance without any
other care on earth.

"Yes; horse camp," said the tall man. "Now you water the black horse and
I'll dig up a bait of corn for him. Wash up at the trough."

"_Puesto que si!_" said Pete.

He slipped the bit out of Midnight's mouth, pushing the headstall back on
the sleek black neck by way of lead rope, and they strode away to the
water pen, side by side.

When they came back a nose-bag, full of corn, stood ready near the fire.
Pete hung this on Midnight's head. Midnight munched contentedly, with
half-closed eyes, and Pete turned to the fire.

"Was I kidding myself?" he inquired. "Or did somebody mention the name of
grub?"

"Set up!" grinned the tall man, kicking a small box up beside a slightly
larger one, which served as a table. "Nothing much to eat but food.
Canned truck all gone."

The smaller host poured coffee. Pete considered the boxes.

"You didn't pack these over here?" he asked, prodding the table with his
boot-toe to elucidate his meaning. "And yet I didn't see no wheel marks
as I come along."

"Fetch 'em from Silverbell. We got a sort of wagon track through the
hills. Closer than Cobre. Some wagon road in the rough places! Snakes
thick on the east side; bu