the boys from the San Gabriel camp riding in early in the
morning?" asked Ranse.

"Long Collins," said Sam briefly. "For the mail."

"Tell him," said Ranse, "to take that tramp out to camp with him and
keep him till I get there."

Curly was sitting on his blankets in the San Gabriel camp cursing
talentedly when Ranse Truesdell rode up and dismounted on the next
afternoon. The cowpunchers were ignoring the stray. He was grimy with
dust and black dirt. His clothes were making their last stand in
favour of the conventions.

Ranse went up to Buck Rabb, the camp boss, and spoke briefly.

"He's a plumb buzzard," said Buck. "He won't work, and he's the
low-downest passel of inhumanity I ever see. I didn't know what you
wanted done with him, Ranse, so I just let him set. That seems to suit
him. He's been condemned to death by the boys a dozen times, but I told
'em maybe you was savin' him for torture."

Ranse took off his coat.

"I've got a hard job before me, Buck, I reckon, but it has to be done.
I've got to make a man out of that thing. That's what I've come to
camp for."

He went up to Curly.

"Brother," he said, "don't you think if you had a bath it would allow
you to take a seat in the company of your fellow-man with less
injustice to the atmosphere."

"Run away, farmer," said Curly, sardonically. "Willie will send for
nursey when he feels like having his tub."

The _charco_, or water hole, was twelve yards away. Ranse took one of
Curly's ankles and dragged him like a sack of potatoes to the brink.
Then with the strength and sleight of a hammer-thrower he hurled the
offending member of society far into the lake.

Curly crawled out and up the bank spluttering like a porpoise.

Ranse met him with a piece of soap and a coarse towel in his hands.

"Go to the other end of the lake and use this," he said. "Buck will
give you some dry clothes at the wagon."

The tramp obeyed without protest. By the time supper was ready he had
returned to camp. He was hardly to be recognised in his new shirt and
brown duck clothes. Ranse observed him out of the corner of his eye.

"Lordy, I hope he ain't a coward," he was saying to himself. "I hope
he won't turn out to be a coward."

His doubts were soon allayed. Curly walked straight to where he stood.
His light-blue eyes were blazing.

"Now I'm clean," he said meaningly, "maybe you'll talk to me. Think
you've got a picnic here, do you? You clodhoppers think you can run