t to apologize for not stoppin' to knock," added the Senator.

Bartley grinned. "It was hardly necessary. I heard you."

"I just came up to see if you would take dinner with me and my missus.
We're goin' to eat right soon. You see, my missus never met up with a
real, live author."

"Thanks, Senator. I'll be glad to meet your family. But suppose you
forget that author stuff and just take me as a tenderfoot out to see the
sights. I'll like it better."

"Why, sure! And while the House is in session, I might rise to remark
that I can't help bein' called 'Senator,' because I'm guilty. But,
honest, I always feel kinder toward my fellow-bein's who call me just
plain 'Steve.'"

"All right. I'll take your word for it."

"Don't you take my word for anything. How do you know but I might be
tryin' to sell you a gold mine?"

"I think the risk would be about even," said Bartley.

The Senator chuckled. "I just heard Wishful lopin' down the hall with
his bathin' outfit, so I guess the right of way is clear again. And
there goes the triangle--sounds like the old ranch, that triangle. You
see, Wishful used to be a cow-hand, and lots of cow-hands stop at this
hotel when they're in town. That triangle sounds like home to 'em. I'm
stoppin' here myself. But I got a real bathroom out to the ranch. Let's
go down and look at some beef on the plate."

CHAPTER V

"TOP HAND ONCE"

Bartley happened to be alone on the veranda of the Antelope House that
evening. Senator Brown and his "missus" had departed for their ranch.
Mrs. Senator Brown had been a bit diffident when first meeting Bartley,
but he soon put her at her ease with some amusing stories of Eastern
experiences. The dinner concluded with an invitation from Mrs. Brown
that anticipated Bartley visiting the ranch and staying as long as he
wished. The day following the Senator's departure Bartley received a
telegram from his friend in California, wishing him good luck and a
pleasant journey in the Arizona country. The friend would see to
Bartley's baggage, as Bartley had forwarded the claim checks in his
letter.

The town was quiet and the stars were serenely brilliant. The dusty,
rutted road past the hotel, dim gray in the starlight, muffled the tread
of an occasional Navajo pony passing in the faint glow of light from the
doorway. Bartley was content with things as he found them, just then.
But he knew that he would eventually go away from there--from the untidy
t