ng, he silenced the young Apache with a curt gesture and entered
into a low-voiced conference with Carmena. Now and then Cochise broke in
with guttural objections.

At last the three seemed to reach some kind of an agreement. They
started up the ladder, Carmena waiting until the last. The white man,
who undoubtedly was the partner called Slade, led Cochise. The crisis
over Lennon's presence in Dead Hole had come to a head. He felt certain
that the period of waiting was about to end in some definite action
either against himself or against the Apache leader.

The meeting was by no means unpleasant. After a short pause Carmena led
the visitors in from the big anteroom. Cochise cast a covert glance at
Elsie, and with an air of stolid indifference to the others sat down at
the table. Slade was neither silent nor stolid. He stared hard about the
living room and bellowed over to Elsie, who was raking her pies out of
the dutch oven:

"Ho, howdy, Cookie Gal! 'Most ready to feed me, huh? Won't have to herd
me to it. Lord, but I'm sick of Injun grub! Guess this trip I'll sure
have to rope and brand you for my home corral!"

Carmena broke in on this coarsely jovial banter with smiling deference:

"You see it's as I told you, Mr. Slade--Dad is almost used up. But I'll
act for him and----"

Slade's ham-like hand came down upon Farley's stooped shoulder in a
thwack that doubled the invalid over and set him to coughing.

"Brace up, Dad," the trader-cowman rallied him in his bull voice.
"You're not dead yet. Good thing for us your bark's worse'n your bite.
Huh, Cochise?"

His massive body shook with a roar of laughter at the joke.

"This is Mr. Lennon--our guest," Carmena again interposed.

The big trader swung around to stare down upon the guest. Lennon stood a
good six feet in his boots, but Slade over-topped him by two or three
inches and was no less thickset than tall. He looked Lennon straight in
the eyes, crushed his left hand in a hearty grip, and greeted him in a
tone of bluff cordiality.

"So you're Carmena's new pard. Glad to see you in Dead Hole. She says
you want to dicker with us."

"I said he might want to," murmured the girl.

Slade grinned genially at the guest's bandaged arm.

"No might about it, Carmena. Your dad came into Dead Hole for his
health. But I figger Lennon here knows it ain't no general health
resort."

"Miss Farley will tell you, I was in urgent need of a change from the
Basin," drawled