him.

He rose from the rock, mounted his pony, and rode slowly down into the
valley toward the Lazy Y ranch buildings.

He had been so busy with his thoughts that he had not noticed the
absence of cattle in the valley--the valley had been a grazing ground
for the Lazy Y stock during the days of his youth--and now, with a
start, he noted it and halted his pony after reaching the level to look
about him.

There was no sign of any cattle. But he reflected that perhaps a new
range had been opened. Thirteen years is a long time, and many changes
could have come during his absence.

He was about to urge his pony on again, when some impulse moved him to
turn in the saddle and glance at the hill he had just vacated. At
about the spot where he had sat--perhaps two hundred yards distant--he
saw a man on a horse, sitting motionless in the saddle, looking at him.

Calumet wheeled his own pony and faced the man. The vari-colored glow
from the distant mountains fell full upon the horseman, and with the
instinct for attention to detail which had become habitual with
Calumet, he noted that the rider was a big man; that he wore a
cream-colored Stetson and a scarlet neckerchief. Even at that
distance, so clear was the light, Calumet caught a vague impression of
his features--his nose, especially, which was big, hawk-like.

Calumet yielded to a sudden wonder over the rider's appearance on the
hill. He had not seen him; had not heard him before. Still, that was
not strange, for he had become so absorbed in his thoughts while on the
hill that he had paid very little attention to his surroundings except
to associate them with his past.

The man, evidently, was a cowpuncher in the employ of his father; had
probably seen him from the level of the valley and had ridden to the
crest of the hill out of curiosity.

Another impulse moved Calumet. He decided to have a talk with the man
in order to learn, if possible, something of the life his father had
led during his absence. He kicked his pony in the ribs and rode toward
the man, the animal traveling at a slow chop-trot.

For a moment the man watched him, still motionless. Then, as Calumet
continued to approach him the man wheeled his horse and sent it
clattering down the opposite side of the hill.

Calumet sneered, surprised, for the instant, at the man's action.

"Shy cuss," he said, grinning contemptuously. In the next instant,
however, he yielded to a quick rage and se