ve me the worst horse in the stable at Meander, and he'll never
be able to carry me back there without a long rest. I'll have to make
camp by the river."

She glanced at his horse, on the saddle of which hung, cowboy fashion, a
bag of grub which also contained a frying-pan and coffeepot, she knew,
from having seen many outfits like it in the stores at Comanche. A
blanket was rolled behind the high cantle. As for the horse, it seemed
as fresh and likely as if it had come three miles instead of thirty. She
believed from that evidence that Jerry's talk about being forced to make
camp was all contrived. He had come prepared for a stay.

"I got into the habit of carrying those traps around with me when I was
a kid," he explained, following her eyes, "and you couldn't drive me two
miles away from a hotel without them. They come in handy, too, in a
pinch like this, I'm here to tell you."

"It's something like a wise man taking his coat, I suppose."

"Now you've got it," commended Boyle.

"But Smith, who used to drive the stage, could have fixed you up all
right," she told him. "He's got a tent to lodge travelers in down by his
new store. You must have seen it as you passed?"

"Yes; and there's another crook!" said Boyle with plain feeling on the
matter. "But I didn't come down here to see Smith or anybody else but
you. It's business."

He looked at her with severity in his dark face, as if to show her that
all thoughts of tenderness and sentiment had gone out of his mind.

"I'm listening," said she.

"There's a man down here a few miles spreadin' himself around on a piece
of property that belongs to me," declared Boyle, "and I want you to help
me get him off."

She looked at him in amazement.

"I don't understand what you mean," said she.

"Slavens."

"Dr. Slavens? Why, he's on his own homestead, which he filed upon
regularly. I can't see what you mean by saying it belongs to you."

"I mean that he stole the description of that land at the point of a
gun, that's what I mean. It belongs to me; I paid money for it; and I'm
here to take possession."

"You've got your information wrong," she denied indignantly. "Dr.
Slavens didn't steal the description. More than that, he could make it
pretty uncomfortable for certain people if he should bring charges of
assault and intended murder against them, Mr. Jerry Boyle!"

"Oh, cut out that high-handshake stuff, Miss Agnes Horton-Gates, or
Gates-Horton, and come down to