. Tucker being a man of great good nature took no offense, although he
could scarcely fail to notice Wallie's hesitation; on the contrary, he
inquired with the utmost cordiality:

"Well, gents, what can I do for you this morning?" His tone implied that
he had the universe at his disposal, and he also looked it as he tipped
back his swivel chair and regarded them.

"He wants to file on the 160 on Skull Crick that Boise Bill abandoned,"
said Pinkey.

Tucker's gaze shifted.

"I'm not sure it's open to entry," he replied, hesitatingly.

"Yes, it is. His time was up a month ago, and he ain't even fenced it."

"You know he's quarrelsome," Tucker suggested. "Perhaps it would be
better to ask his intentions."

"He ain't none," Pinkey declared, bluntly. "He only took it up to hold
for Canby and he's never done a lick of work on it."

"Of course it's right in the middle of Canby's range," Tucker argued,
"and you can scarcely blame him for not wanting it homesteaded. Why
don't you select a place that won't conflict with his interests?"

"Why should we consider his interests? He don't think of anybody else's
when he wants anything," Pinkey demanded.

"Your friend bein' a newcomer, I thought he wouldn't want to locate in
the middle of trouble."

"He can take care of himself," Pinkey declared, confidently; though, as
they both glanced at Wallie, there seemed nothing in his appearance to
justify his friend's optimism. He looked a lamblike pacifist as he sat
fingering his straw hat diffidently.

Tucker brought his feet down with the air of a man who had done his duty
and washed his hands of consequences; he prepared to make out the
necessary papers. As he handled the documents he left fingerprints of
such perfection on the borders that they resembled identification marks
for classification under the Bertillon system, and Wallie was far more
interested in watching him than in his intimation that there was trouble
in the offing if he made this filing.

He paid his fees and filled out his application, leaving Tucker's office
with a new feeling of importance and responsibility. One hundred and
sixty acres was not much of a ranch as ranches go in Wyoming, but it was
a beginning.

As soon as they were out of the building, Wallie inquired casually:

"Does Miss Spenceley live in my neighbourhood?"

"Across the mounting!" Which reply conveyed nothing to Wallie. Pinkey
added: "I punch cows for their outfit."

"Indeed," polit