nned leather, a clear, blue eye and a
drooping white moustache. He wore a flopping old felt hat, a faded
cotton shirt and an ancient pair of copper-riveted blue-jeans overalls
tucked into a pair of cowboy's boots. A time-discoloured cartridge belt
encircled his hips, supporting a holster from which protruded the shiny
butt of an old-fashioned Colt's 45. But if the man was thus nondescript
and shabby, his mount and its caparisons were magnificent. The horse was
a glossy, clean-limbed sorrel with a quick, intelligent eye. The bridle
was of braided rawhide, the broad spade-bit heavily inlaid with silver,
the reins of braided and knotted rawhide. Across the animal's brow ran
three plates of silver linked together. Below its ears were wide silver
_conchas_. The saddle was carved elaborately, and likewise ornamented
with silver. The whole outfit shone--new-polished and well kept.

"Oh, you John!" called Plant.

The old man moved his left hand slightly. The proud-stepping sorrel
instantly turned to the left, and, on a signal Bob could not
distinguish, stopped to statue-like immobility. Then Bob could see the
Forest Ranger badge pinned to one strap of the old man's suspender.

"John," said Plant, "they tell me there's a fire over at Stone Creek.
Ride over and see what it amounts to."

"All right," replied the Ranger. "What help do I get?"

"Oh, you just ride over and see what it amounts to," repeated Plant.

"I can't do nothing alone fighting fire."

"Well I can't spare anybody now," said Plant, "and it may not amount to
nothing. You go see."

"All right," said John. "But if it does amount to something, it'll get
an awful start on us."

He rode away.

"Old California John," said Plant to Bob with a slight laugh. "Crazy old
fool." He raised his voice. "Oh, you Jim! John, he's going to ride over.
You needn't go."

Bob nodded a good night, and walked back up the street. At the store he
found the sorrel horse standing untethered in the road. He stopped to
examine more closely the very ornate outfit. California John came out
carrying a grain sack half full of provisions. This he proceeded to tie
on behind the saddle, paying no attention to the young man.

"Well, Star, you got a long ways to go," muttered the old man.

"You aren't going over those mountains to-night, are you?" cried Bob.

The old man turned quite deliberately and inspected his questioner in a
manner to imply that he had committed an indiscretion. But