y went
straight to the corral where he had put up his horse. He watered and fed
the animal, and after an endless half-hour saddled the bronco.

Moore joined him in front of the officers' quarters, and together they
rode out of the post. As the Texan had said, the road to Tascosa ran
straight as a gun-barrel. At first they rode in silence, swiftly,
leaving behind them mile after mile of dusty trail. It was a brown,
level country thickly dotted with yucca. Once Moore shot a wild turkey
running in the grass. Prairie-chicken were abundant, and a flight of
pigeons numbering thousands passed at one time over their heads and
obscured the sky.

"Goin' down to the _encinal_ to roost," explained Moore.

"A man could come pretty near living off his rifle in this country,"
Arthur remarked.

"Outside o' flour an' salt, I've done it many a time. I rode through the
Pecos Valley to Fort Sumner an' on to Denver oncet an' lived off the
land. Time an' again I've done it from the Brazos to the Canadian. If
he gets tired of game, a man can jerk the hind quarters of a beef.
Gimme a young turkey fed on sweet mast an' cooked on a hackberry bush
fire, an' I'll never ask for better chuck," the Texan promised.

In spite of Ridley's manifest desire to push on far into the night,
Moore made an early camp.

"No use gauntin' our broncs when we've got all the time there is before
us. A horse is a man's friend. He don't want to waste it into a
sorry-lookin' shadow. Besides, we're better off here than at Painted
Rock. It's nothin' but a whistlin'-post in the desert."

"Yes, but I'd like to get as far from the fort as we can. I--I'm in a
hurry to reach Tascosa," the younger man urged.

Moore opened a row of worn and stained teeth to smile. "Don't worry,
young fellow. I'm with you now."

After they had made camp and eaten, the two men sat beside the
flickering fire, and Moore told stories of the wild and turbulent life
he had known around Dodge City and in the Lincoln County War that was
still waging in New Mexico. He had freighted to the Panhandle from El
Moro, Colorado, from Wichita Falls, and even from Dodge. The consummate
confidence of the man soothed the unease of the young fellow with the
hogskin belt. This plainsman knew all that the Southwest had to offer of
danger and was equal to any of it.

Presently Arthur Ridley grew drowsy. The last that he remembered before
he fell asleep was seeing Moore light his pipe again with a live coal