s
shallow way between low cut banks. Promptly he made up his mind that
it was the place for him to camp.

At the water's edge he scrambled out of the saddle and began to seek a
place where his mare could drink. It was a little difficult, for the
banks were sharp, and the bushes plentiful, and he had wandered at
least a hundred yards in his search for an opening when a human voice
abruptly hailed him from the far side of the stream. He looked across
without answering, and, to his intense surprise, beheld a horseman on
the opposite bank. The man, judging by his appearance, was a
cowpuncher, and, to Scipio's simple mind, was, like himself,
benighted.

"Hello," he replied at last, after a thoughtful stare.

The man was eyeing the yellow-headed figure with no very friendly
eyes, but this fact was lost upon Scipio, who saw in him only a fellow
man in misfortune. He saw the lariat on the horn of the saddle, the
man's chapps, his hard-muscled broncho pony gazing longingly at the
water. The guns at the man's waist, the scowling brow and shifty eyes
passed quite unobserved.

"Wher' you from?" demanded the man sharply.

"Suffering Creek," replied Scipio readily.

"Guess you've come quite a piece," said the other, after a considering
pause.

"I sure have."

"What you doin' here?"

The man's inquiry rapped out smartly. But Scipio had no suspicion of
anybody, and answered quite without hesitation.

"I'm huntin' a man called James. You ain't seen him?"

But the man countered his question with another.

"What's your name?" he asked.

"Scipio--and yours?"

In the dying light the man's saturnine features seemed to relax for a
moment into something like a smile. But he spoke at once.

"Come right over," he invited. "Guess my name's Abe--Abe Conroy. I'm
out chasin' cattle." And the fact that he finished up with a
deliberate laugh had no meaning at all for his companion.

Scipio gladly accepted the invitation, and, in response to the man's
instructions, moved farther along the stream until he came to a
shelving in the bank where his mare could climb down. He crossed
over, letting his horse drink by the way, and a few moments later was
at his new acquaintance's side.

The stranger's mood seemed to have entirely changed for the better by
the time Scipio came up. His smile was almost amiable, and his manner
of speech was comparatively jocular.

"So you're chasin' that crook, James," he said easily. "Queer, ain't
it?"