dentity, he could mislead them a day longer at
least. He built all his reasoning on the hope that the posse would
find and follow his tracks.

Under the silent stars he slept, his head on his saddle, and near him
lay Pete's black sombrero.

In the disillusioning light of morning, that which Andy had taken to be
a ranch-house dwindled to a goat-herder's shack fronted by a
brush-roofed lean-to. Near it was a diminutive corral and a sun-faded
tent. The old Indian herder seemed in no way surprised to see a young
rider dismount and approach cautiously--for Andy had entered into the
spirit of the thing. He paused to glance apprehensively back and
survey the western horizon. Andy greeted the Indian, who grunted his
acknowledgment in the patois of the plains.

"Any vaqueros ride by here this morning?" queried Andy.

The herder shook his head.

"Well, I guess I got time to eat," said Andy.

A faint twinkle touched the old Indian's eyes, but his face was as
expressionless as a dried apple.

"Si," he said.

"But not a whole lot of time," asserted Andy.

The Indian rose and fetched a pail of goat's milk and some tortillas
from the shack. He shuffled back to his hermitage and reappeared with
a tin cup. Andy, who meanwhile had consumed one leathery tortilla,
shook his head. "Never mind the cup, amigo." He tilted the pail and
drank--paused for breath, and drank again. He set the pail down empty.
"I was some dry," he said, smiling. "Got any more of these rawhide
flapjacks?"

The herder nodded, stooped to enter the shack, and came out with a
half-dozen of the tortillas, which Andy rolled and stuffed in his
saddle-pocket. "Mighty good trail bread!" he said enthusiastically.
"You can't wear 'em out."

Again the herder nodded, covertly studying this young rider who did not
look like an outlaw, whose eye was clear and untroubled. Well, what
did it matter?--a man must eat.

The old Indian had given unquestioningly from his poverty, with the
simple dignity of true hospitality. As for who this stranger was, of
what he had done--that was none of his affair. A man must eat.

"I'm payin' for this,"--and Andy proffered a silver dollar.

The other turned the piece round in his fingers as though hesitating to
accept it.

"Si. But has not the senor some little money?"

"That's all right, amigo. Keep it."

The herder shook his head, and held up two fingers. Andy smiled. "I
get you! You don't aim to bank all y