the rolling plain, and in
half an hour we reached it. As we climbed down from the wagon a brown
and black dog came dashing out of the cabin, and promptly jumped at
Moze. His selection showed poor discrimination, for Moze whipped him
before I could separate them. Hearing Jones heartily greeting some one,
I turned in his direction, only to be distracted by another dog fight.
Don had tackled Moze for the seventh time. Memory rankled in Don, and
he needed a lot of whipping, some of which he was getting when I
rescued him.

Next moment I was shaking hands with Frank and Jim, Jones's ranchmen.
At a glance I liked them both. Frank was short and wiry, and had a big,
ferocious mustache, the effect of which was softened by his kindly
brown eyes. Jim was tall, a little heavier; he had a careless, tidy
look; his eyes were searching, and though he appeared a young man, his
hair was white.

"I shore am glad to see you all," said Jim, in slow, soft, Southern
accent.

"Get down, get down," was Frank's welcome--a typically Western one, for
we had already gotten down; "an' come in. You must be worked out. Sure
you've come a long way." He was quick of speech, full of nervous
energy, and beamed with hospitality.

The cabin was the rudest kind of log affair, with a huge stone
fireplace in one end, deer antlers and coyote skins on the wall,
saddles and cowboys' traps in a corner, a nice, large, promising
cupboard, and a table and chairs. Jim threw wood on a smoldering fire,
that soon blazed and crackled cheerily.

I sank down into a chair with a feeling of blessed relief. Ten days of
desert ride behind me! Promise of wonderful days before me, with the
last of the old plainsmen. No wonder a sweet sense of ease stole over
me, or that the fire seemed a live and joyously welcoming thing, or
that Jim's deft maneuvers in preparation of supper roused in me a rapt
admiration.

"Twenty calves this spring!" cried Jones, punching me in my sore side.
"Ten thousand dollars worth of calves!"

He was now altogether a changed man; he looked almost young; his eyes
danced, and he rubbed his big hands together while he plied Frank with
questions. In strange surroundings--that is, away from his Native
Wilds, Jones had been a silent man; it had been almost impossible to
get anything out of him. But now I saw that I should come to know the
real man. In a very few moments he had talked more than on all the
desert trip, and what he said, added to the lit