valise, swung it to his shoulder and strode back to where the
colonel stood pondering under the canvas screen.

"Good hefting power in that right arm of his," muttered one of the
loungers to a mate sprawled full length on the sand beneath the shelter
of the tent fly, and watching the officer from under his half-closed
lids. A grunt of assent was the only reply.

"Know what regiment he belongs to?" queried number one.

"No, but it's cavalry," was the murmured answer. "Saw him straddling a
broncho at Maricopa Wells last week. He knows how."

Somewhere within the ranch a triangle began to jangle. "_Quim-a-do!_"
shrilled little Pete, and three or four lazy, drowsing forms began
slowly to get to their feet and to shuffle away toward the doorless
aperture in the adobe wall, the entrance to the dining-room of the stage
and ranch people. Two men lingered, the two who were speculating as to
the military connections of the young officer. One of them, after a
quiet glance about the neighborhood, strolled out toward the stage,
hands deep in the pockets of his wide trousers. There he seemed casually
to repeat his leisurely survey of the surroundings, then he lounged
back.

"No go," said he, in low tones, "both of 'em there yet. Young feller
changing his dress. Their dinner's ready though. The colonel's writing."

Presently Sancho, grave and deliberate as became his race, emerged from
the shadows of the bar and came close before he spoke.

"He goes to ride--that youth. Know you whither? And he has no horse."

And, as though to confirm this statement, with his quick, elastic step,
Loring came forth to the side gate, dumped his valise into the stage,
turned and looked keenly over the group, then as quickly approached
them. He had discarded his linen coat and trousers in favor of a pair
of brown cord breeches with Hualpai leggings and light spurs. A broad
belt with knife and revolver was buckled to his waist. A silk
handkerchief was loosely knotted at his throat. A light-colored felt hat
was pulled down to his eyebrows, and dust-colored gantlets were drawn
upon his hands. "Sancho," said he, "have that roan of yours saddled in
ten minutes. How much if I keep him a week?"

"Everything in my house is at the service of the Senor Capitan," began
Sancho grandiloquently, "but as to that horse----"

"No other will do. How much a week? though I may keep him only a day."

"Senor, he is the horse of my brother, and my brother is not her