ber of
busy days at the ranch, near the close of the round-up, inspecting the
range and debating with Colonel Whittaker whether it would be better
to enlarge it or to run the risk of overstocking by increasing the
number of cattle on the land which they already held. They decided
that if they could get control of certain springs and surrounding
ranges, especially Emerson Mead's Alamo and Cienega springs and
another belonging to McAlvin, which joined the range they already
held, it would be exactly what they needed.

"These water holes would be worth a lot to us," said Colonel
Whittaker, "but it would be just like these contrary cusses to refuse
to sell at any price, especially to us."

"Then they'll have to be persuaded," Wellesly replied.

It was necessary for Colonel Whittaker to return to Las Plumas before
they had quite finished their inspection, and Wellesly decided to
remain a little longer and go back to town alone. Whittaker hesitated
over the arrangement, for he knew that Wellesly had neither the
instinct nor the training of the plainsman, and that he was unusually
deficient in that sense of direction which is the traveler's best
pilot over monotonous levels and rolling hills.

"Do you think you can find your way?" he said. "One of the boys can
guide you over the range, and when you start back to town, unless you
are perfectly sure of yourself, you'd better have him go with you, as
far as Muletown, at least."

"Oh, I'll have no trouble about getting back," Wellesly replied. "It's
a perfectly plain, straight road all the way, and all I'll have to do
will be to follow the main track. I'll stay here two days longer and
I'll take two days for the trip to town. You can expect me--this is
Monday--some time Thursday afternoon."

The misadventure of Nick Ellhorn, which landed both him and Emerson
Mead in jail, was on Tuesday afternoon, and it was early the next
morning that Albert Wellesly left the ranch house and rode down
through the foothills. He decided that the horse knew more about the
road than he did, and would do just as well if left to its own
guidance. So he let the reins lie loosely on its neck and, forgetful
of his surroundings, was soon absorbed in a consideration of the
problems of the cattle ranch. Well down toward the plain the road
forked, one branch turning sharply to the right and the other to the
left. The horse which he rode had, until recently, belonged to Emerson
Mead, from whom the Fill