that same old Mose, but--" He stopped and looked at Ford hesitantly.
"Say! I hate like the deuce to tie a string on you as soon as you hit
the ranch, Ford, but--if you've got anything along, you won't spring it
on Mose, will you? A fellow's got to watch him pretty close, or--"

"I haven't got a drop." Ford's tone was reprehensibly regretful.

"You do look as if you'd put it all under your belt," Mason retorted
dryly. "Left anything behind?"

"Some spoiled beauties, and a nice new jail that was built by my
admiring townspeople, with my name carved over the door. I didn't stay
for the dedication services. Sunset was getting all fussed up over me
and I thought I'd give them a chance to settle their nerves; loss of
sleep sure plays hell with folks when their nerves are getting frazzly."
He smiled disarmingly at Mason.

"I'd kinda lost track of you, Ches, till I got your letter. I've been
traveling pretty swift, and that's no lie. I meant to write, but--you
know how a man gets to putting things off. And then I took a notion to
ride over this way, and sample your grub for a day or so, and abuse you
a little to your face, you old highbinder!"

"Sure. I've been kinda looking for you, too. But--I wish you hadn't
quite so big an assortment of battle-signs, Ford. Kate's got ideals and
prejudices--and she don't know all your little personal traits. She's
heard a lot about you, of course. We was married right after we came
outa the North, you know, and of course--Well, you know how a woman sops
up adventure stories; and seeing you was the star performer--"

"And that's a lie," Ford put in modestly, albeit a trifle bluntly.

"No, it ain't. She got the truth. And she's so darned grateful," he
added lugubriously, "that I don't know how to square your record with
that face! Unless we can rig up some yarn about a holdup--" He paused
just outside the mess-house door and eyed Ford questioningly. "We
might--"

"No, you don't. If you've gone and lied to her, and made me out a little
tin angel, you deserve what's coming. Anyway, I won't stay long, and
I'll stop down here with the boys. Call me Jack Jones and let it go at
that. Honest, Ches, I don't want to get mixed up with no more females.
I'm plumb scared of 'em. Lordy me, that coffee sure does smell good to
me!"

Mason looked at him doubtfully, saw that Ford was, for the time being,
absolutely devoid of anything remotely approaching penitence for his
sins, or compunction over h