his vehemence.
"Son, I lost my cattle, my ranch. An' then my nerve. I'm not makin'
excuses. I just fell down ... but I'm not too old to make another
start with you to steer me."

"Good!" replied Pan with strong feeling, and he laid a hand on his
father's shoulder. They halted by the open corral. "Then let's get
right down to straight poker."

"Play your game, Pan. I'm sure curious."

"First off then--we don't want to settle in this country."

"Pan, you've called me right on the first hand," declared his father,
cracking his fist on the corral gate. "I know this's no country for
the Smiths. But I followed Jard Hardman here, I hoped to----"

"Never mind explanations, Dad," interrupted Pan. "We're looking to the
future. We won't settle here. We'll go to Arizona. I had a pard who
came from Arizona. All day long and half the night that broncho buster
would rave about Arizona. Well, he won me over. Arizona must be
wonderful."

"But Pan, isn't it desert country?"

"Arizona is every kind of country," replied Pan earnestly. "It's a big
territory, Dad. Pretty wild yet, too, but not like these mining claim
countries, with their Yellow Mines. Arizona is getting settlers in the
valleys where there's water and grass. Lots of fine pine timber that
will be valuable some day. I know just where we'll strike for. But we
needn't waste time talking about that now. If it suits you the thing
is settled. We go to Arizona."

"Fine, Pan," said his father rubbing his hands. Pan had struck fire
from him. "_When_ will we go?"

"That's to decide," answered Pan, thoughtfully. "I've got some money.
Not much. But we could get there and start on it. I believe, though,
that we'd do better to stay here--this fall anyway--and round up a
bunch of these wild horses. Five hundred horses, a thousand at twelve
dollars a head--why, Dad, it would start us in a big way."

"Son, I should smile it would," returned Smith, with fiery enthusiasm.
"But can you do it?"

"Dad, if these broomies are as thick as I hear they are I sure can make
a stake. Last night I fell in with two cowboys--Blinky Moran and Gus
Hans. They're chasing wild horses, and want me to throw in with them.
Now with you and maybe a couple of more riders we can make a big drive.
You've got to know the tricks. I learned a heap from a Mormon
wild-horse wrangler. If these broomtails are thick here--well, I don't
want to set your hopes too high. But wait til