t, but the
trail sure fades behind him when he's travelin'. I'm kind of glad you
didn't try to buy the Antelope House. You'd started in pricin' the
stable, and kind of milled around and ast me what I'd sell the kitchen
for, and afore I knowed it, you'd 'a' had me selling the hotel for less
than the stable. I figure you'd made a amazin' hand at shootin' craps."

"Let's step over and buy that saddle, and the rest of it. Will you
engineer the deal? I don't know much about Western saddlery."

"Shucks! You can take that ole rig I was showin' you. She ain't much on
looks, but she's all there."

"Thanks. But I'd rather buy a new outfit."

"When do you aim to start?"

"Right away. I suppose I'll need a blanket and some provisions."

"Yes. But you'll catch up with Cheyenne, if you keep movin'. He won't
travel fast with a pack-hoss along. He'll most like camp at the first
water, about twenty-five miles south. But you can pack some grub in your
saddle-bags, and play safe. And take a canteen along."

Wishful superintended the purchasing of the new outfit, and seemed
unusually keen about seeing Bartley well provided for at the minimum
cost. Wishful's respect for the Easterner had been greatly enhanced by
the recent horse-deal. When it came to the question of clothing, Wishful
wisely suggested overalls and a rowdy, as being weather and brush proof.
Incidentally Wishful asked Bartley why he had paid his bill before he
had actually prepared to start on the journey. Bartley told Wishful that
he would not have prepared to start had he not paid the bill on impulse.

"Well, some folks git started on impulse, afore they pay their bills,
and keep right on fannin' it," asserted Wishful.

An hour later Bartley was ready for the trail. With some food in the
saddle-pockets, a blanket tied behind the cantle, and a small canteen
hung on the horn, he felt equipped to make the journey. Wishful
suggested that he stay until after the noon hour, but Bartley declined.
He would eat a sandwich or two on the way.

"And ole Dobe knows the trail to Steve's ranch," said Wishful, as he
walked around horse and rider, giving them a final inspection. "And you
don't have to cinch ole Dobe extra tight," he advised. "He carries a
saddle good. 'Course that new leather will stretch some."

"How old _is_ Dobe?" queried Bartley. "You keep calling him 'old.'"

"I seen you mouthin' him, after you had saddled him. How old would _you_
say?"

"Seven, going on