r them.
Every cowboy was a wild horse hunter, on occasions. If he had ridden
these desert ranges, he would inevitably have become permanently a
hunter and lover of wild horses. Moreover, Pan did not see why there
would not be vastly more money in it than in punching cows. He grew
charmed with the idea.

Western New Mexico at last! It appeared a continuation and a
magnifying of all the color and wildness and vastness. Sand dunes and
wastes of black lava, dry lake beds and cone-shaped extinct volcanoes,
with the ragged crater mouths gaping, low ranges of yellow cedar-dotted
hills, valleys of purple, and green forests on the mountain slopes--all
these in endless variety were new to the cowboy of the plains. Water
was conspicuous for its absence, though at long intervals of travel he
crossed a stream. The homesteader, that hopeful and lonely pioneer,
was as scarce as the streams.

One night, hours after dark, the stage rolled into Marco, with Pan one
of five passengers. Sunset had overtaken them miles from their
destination. At that time Pan thought the country wild and beautiful
in the extreme. Darkness had soon blotted out the strange formations
of colored rocks, the endless sweep of valley, the cold white peaks in
the far distance.

Marco! How unusual the swelling of his heart! The long three-week
ride had ended. The stage had rolled down a main street the like of
which Pan had never even imagined. It was crude, rough, garish with
lights and stark board fronts of buildings, and a motley jostling crowd
of men; women, too, were not wanting in the throngs streaming up and
down. Again it was Saturday night. Always it appeared Pan hit town on
this of all nights. Noise and dust filled the air. Pan pulled down
his bag, and mounted the board steps of the hotel the stage driver had
announced.

If Pan had not been keenly strung, after long weeks, with the thought
of soon seeing his mother, father, his little sister and Lucy, he would
yet have been excited over this adventure beyond the Rockies.

Contrary to his usual habit of throwing his money to the winds like
most cowboys, he had exercised rigid economy on this trip. Indeed, it
was the first time he had ever done such a thing. He had between four
and five hundred dollars, consisting of wages he had saved and the
proceeds from the sale of his horses and outfit. There was no telling
in what difficulties he might find his father and what need there might