frequent an' keep
Joe toein' the mark. Stratton, it seems, had sold out because he didn't
know what might happen to him across the water. Oh, Andrew J. was a right
smooth talker, believe me, but still an' all he didn't make no great hit
with folks around the country even after he settled down on the Shoe-Bar
and brung his daughter there to live. There weren't no tears shed,
neither, when an ornery paint horse throwed him last May an' broke his
neck."

"What about Bloss?" Stratton asked briefly.

"Oh, he got his time along with all the other cow-men. There shore was a
clean sweep when Thorne whirled in an' took hold. Joe hung around here a
week or two an' then drifted down to Phoenix. Last I heard he was goin' to
try the Flyin'-V's, but that was six months or more ago."

Buck's shoulders straightened and his chin went up with a sudden touch of
swift decision.

"Got a horse I can hire?" he asked abruptly.

Pop hesitated, his shrewd gaze traveling swiftly over Stratton's straight,
tall figure to rest reflectively on the lean, square-jawed, level-eyed
young face.

"I dunno but I have," he answered slowly. "Uh course I don't know yore
name even, an' a man's got to be careful how he--"

"Oh, that'll be all right," interrupted Stratton, his white teeth showing
briefly in a smile. "I'll leave you a deposit. My name's Bob Green, though
folks mostly call me Buck. I've got a notion to ride over to the Shoe-Bar
and see if they know anything about--Joe."

"'T ain't likely they will," shrugged Daggett. "Still, it won't do no harm
to try. Yuh can't ride in them things, though," he added, surveying
Stratton's well-cut suit of gray.

"I don't specially want to, but they're all I've got," smiled Buck. "When
I quit ranching to show 'em how to run the war, I left my outfit behind,
and I haven't been back yet to get it."

"Cow-man eh?" Pop nodded approvingly. "I thought so; yuh got the look,
someway. Wal, yore welcome to some duds I bought off 'n Dick Sanders about
a month ago. He quit the Rockin'-R to go railroadin' or somethin', an'
sold his outfit, saddle an' all. I reckon they'll suit."

Stepping behind the counter, he poked around amongst a mass of
miscellaneous merchandise and finally drew forth a pair of much-worn
leather chaps, high-heeled boots almost new, and a cartridge-belt from
which dangled an empty holster.

"There yuh are," he said triumphantly, spreading them out on the counter.
"Gun's the only thing missin'.