me, Overland realized also that the Easterner had
played the game royally. Perhaps the fact that Winthrop's health was not
of the best appealed to some hidden sentiment in the tramp's peculiar
nature. In any event, Overland Red found himself strangely solicitous
for his companion's return.

Far in the south a speck moved, almost imperceptibly. The tramp's keen
eyes told him that this was no horseman. He rolled a cigarette and lay
back in the shade of a boulder. "He's a couple of points off his course,
but he can't miss the range," he reflected.

Desiring to assure himself that no horseman followed Winthrop, Overland
Red made no sign that might help the other to find the trail over the
range. The rim of Winthrop's hat became distinguishable; then the white
lacing of his boots. Nearer, Overland saw that his face was drawn and
set with lines of fatigue.

No riders appeared on the horizon. Overland stepped out from behind the
rock. "Well, how did you make it?" he called.

Winthrop came forward wearily "No luck at all."

"Couldn't find it, eh?"

"I counted every tie between the tank and that little ditch under the
track. The entire stretch has been relaid with new ties."

Overland whistled. Then he grinned. "You had a good healthy walk,
anyhow," he observed.

"It doesn't seem to worry you much," said Winthrop.

"Nope. Now you're back, it don't. I reckon you done your dam'dest as
the song says. Angels can do no less. Buck up, Billy! You 're limper'n a
second-hand porous-plaster. Here, take a shot at this. That will stiffen
your knees some. Did you meet up with anybody?"

"Not a soul. I thought I should freeze last night, though. I didn't
imagine the desert could get so cold."

"Livin' out here on the old dry spot will either kill you or cure you.
That's one reason I let you go look for them things. The harder you hit
the trail, and can stand it, the quicker you'll get built up." Then
Overland, realizing that his companion was worse than tired, that he was
dispirited, became as wily as the proverbial serpent. His method,
however, could hardly be compared with the dove's conciliatory cooing.
"You sure are a bum scout," he began.

Winthrop flushed, but was silent.

"Bet a banana you didn't even leave the track and look for it."

"No, I didn't. Where could I have begun?"

Overland ignored the question. "I'm hungrier than a gorilla. Just send a
wireless to them feet of your'n. We got some climbin' to do afore dar