ted the verdant valley between the ranch and the
village. Water for the house, however, came down from the high, wooded
slope of the mountain, and had been brought there by a simple expedient.
Pine logs of uniform size had been laid end to end, with a deep trough
cut in them, and they made a shining line down the slope, across the
valley, and up the little hill to the Auchincloss home. Near the house
the hollowed halves of logs had been bound together, making a crude
pipe. Water ran uphill in this case, one of the facts that made the
ranch famous, as it had always been a wonder and delight to the small
boys of Pine. The two good women who managed Auchincloss's large
household were often shocked by the strange things that floated into
their kitchen with the ever-flowing stream of clear, cold mountain
water.

As it happened this day Dale encountered Al Auchincloss sitting in the
shade of a porch, talking to some of his sheep-herders and stockmen.
Auchincloss was a short man of extremely powerful build and great width
of shoulder. He had no gray hairs, and he did not look old, yet there
was in his face a certain weariness, something that resembled sloping
lines of distress, dim and pale, that told of age and the ebb-tide of
vitality. His features, cast in large mold, were clean-cut and comely,
and he had frank blue eyes, somewhat sad, yet still full of spirit.

Dale had no idea how his visit would be taken, and he certainly would
not have been surprised to be ordered off the place. He had not set foot
there for years. Therefore it was with surprise that he saw Auchincloss
wave away the herders and take his entrance without any particular
expression.

"Howdy, Al! How are you?" greeted Dale, easily, as he leaned his rifle
against the log wall.

Auchincloss did not rise, but he offered his hand.

"Wal, Milt Dale, I reckon this is the first time I ever seen you that I
couldn't lay you flat on your back," replied the rancher. His tone was
both testy and full of pathos.

"I take it you mean you ain't very well," replied Dale. "I'm sorry, Al."

"No, it ain't thet. Never was sick in my life. I'm just played out, like
a hoss thet had been strong an' willin', an' did too much.... Wal, you
don't look a day older, Milt. Livin' in the woods rolls over a man's
head."

"Yes, I'm feelin' fine, an' time never bothers me."

"Wal, mebbe you ain't such a fool, after all. I've wondered
lately--since I had time to think.... But, Milt