ain
was fairly level, but a spirit level would have shown a marked tilt to
the east. There was a fringe of timberland on every side. Landy
pointed out places of interest. "That's Ripple Creek off to the left.
Ye crossed hit last night on the bridge, and we meet hit agin right up
by the house. That's Brushy Fork over at the right. They 'most come
together up here. Right up that canyon about two mile is whar Welborn
found the b'ar cubs. Way 'round that timber-covered nose to the right
is the B-line Ranch--hit's about ten miles. Right down that draw, in
the timber and brush, I killed two wolves last year. And if yer on a
hoss, ye can foller a trail down to brushy fork and out on yon side.
That's a short cut to the B-line, else ye'd have to go cl'ar back to
the fillin' station, then over to Adot and back across another bridge
to git thar. It's twenty-five miles thataway. When ye git all settled,
we'll sneak over to the B-line and take a squint at that little hoss."

Landy continued to point out the places of interest. "Right along
about here is Welborn's line. He's got two homesteads--bought 'em off
a crazy bird that had bought out both homesteaders. That's one of the
shacks over there and the other one he uses for a cowshed. En thar's
yer home a-settin' up on that bench of land."

Davy craned his neck as the trailer moved down hill. Perched up on a
shelf, he saw a yellow dot against a gray wall that ran to the sky. As
they neared the place he outlined a tiny cabin. Later it proved to be
a two-roomed affair with a porch and lean to at the rear. This was to
be his domicile--for how long, time would tell.

The car described a big curve that took them to the brink of the
Ripple Creek Canyon. In second gear it labored and twisted off to the
right, and then left again, and came to a stop right at the front
porch of the yellow-brown log cabin.

Davy climbed down from his perch. He walked around the cabin,
surveying it from three sides. "She's an Old Faithful," he announced
at last. "Modeled, matched, and built by the man that built Old
Faithful Inn. Why did he do it and when?"

"It was built the summer before last and it took all summer,"
explained Welborn. "The crazy galoot called himself the Count of Como.
He came barging in here and bought out Clark and Stanley, the
homesteaders, and brought in two men who had been building fancy
cabins in Rocky Mountain Park and tourist camps. He left them here on
the job while he drove