man. If there's anybody
alive around that camp they sure heard me this time," he thought, as
he looked and listened with straining eyes and ears. But there was no
movement about the fire, and another whinny was the only sound that
came from its direction. "Mighty queer!" was his inward comment, as
his hand sought the revolver which hung by his side, while a light
pressure of spurs started his horse forward again. Suddenly there was
a swift rustle of the bushes beside him.

"Stop! Throw up your hands!"

A man had sprung from a tall clump of mesquite, and the traveler saw
the faint light reflected from a gun barrel pointed straight at his
breast. He stopped his horse, but did not respond to the other
summons; instead, his fingers closed quickly over the butt of his
revolver.

"Throw up your hands, or I'll blow a hole through you!"

"Well, the drop's yours, stranger, so here goes," and the traveler's
hands went straight above his head.

"That's better! Now, what do you want here?"

"I saw your camp-fire and I reckoned I might get some water for my
horse and some supper for myself."

"Who are you?"

"My name is Thomson Tuttle."

"What are you doing here?"

"Attendin' to my own affairs and lettin' other people's alone."

"You allowed just now it was my drop." There was a note of warning in
the man's voice. The traveler hesitated a moment. The click of a
trigger quickened his discretion.

"I am on my way from Muletown to Las Plumas, but I lost the road this
afternoon and I've no idea where I am now. As soon as I saw your
camp-fire I came straight for it, for my horse needs water mighty
bad."

There was a moment of silence. The moon was well above the mountains,
and in its brightening light the form of the traveler stood out in
ridiculous silhouette, his hands held high above his head. He could
see plainly the figure of the man and the gun leveled at his breast.

"How long had you been in Muletown?"

"I got in this forenoon, and I guess I stopped an hour. I left about
noon."

"Where from?"

"I started yesterday morning from Millbank. I had been there two days.
I went there from Santa Fe. I've been in New Mexico about ten years,
and I was born--"

"Never mind about that. You can have some supper. Unfasten your belt
with your left hand, and be sure to keep your right hand where it is."
Tuttle's left hand fumbled a moment with his cartridge belt, and
revolver and belt dropped to the ground.

"Anything