on my boots, but if
any old rattler crawls under my cot now it's good-bye, Mr. Snake.
Tommy is right there with the goods--and he ain't been bit yet,
neither. He killed three side-winders last Summer--didn't you, Tom,
Old Socks?--and if any sheep-herder's dog comes snoopin' around the
back door he'll mount him in a minute. If a man was as brave as he is,
now, he'd--well, that's the trouble--he wouldn't last very long in
this country. I used to wonder sometimes which'd go first--me or Tom.
The sheepmen was after me, and their dogs was after Tom. But I'm
afraid poor Tommy is elected; this is a dam' bad country for cats."

He set him down with a glance of admiring solicitude, such as a
Spartan mother might have bestowed upon her fighting offspring, and
kicked open the unlocked door.

The Dos S ranch house was a long, low structure of adobe bricks,
divided in the middle by the open passageway which the Mexicans always
affect to encourage any vagrant breeze. On one side of the _corredor_
was a single large room, half storehouse, half bunk room, with a
litter of pack saddles, rawhide kyacks and leather in one corner, a
heap of baled hay, grain, and provisions in the other, and the rest
strewn with the general wreckage of a camp--cooking utensils, Dutch
ovens, canvas pack covers, worn-out saddles, and ropes. On the other
side the rooms were more pretentious, one of them even having a board
floor. First came the large living-room with a stone chimney and a
raised hearth before the fireplace; whereon, each on its separate
pile of ashes, reposed two Dutch ovens, a bean kettle, and a
frying-pan, with a sawed-off shovel in the corner for scooping up
coals. Opening into the living-room were two bedrooms, which, upon
exploration, turned out to be marvellously fitted up, with high-headed
beds, bureaus and whatnots, besides a solid oak desk.

To these explorations of Hardy's Creede paid but slight attention, he
being engaged in cooking a hurried meal and watching Tommy, who had a
bad habit of leaping up on the table and stealing; but as Hardy paused
by the desk in the front bedroom he looked up from mixing his bread
and said:

"That's your room, Rufe, so you can clean it up and move in. I
generally sleep outdoors myself--and I ain't got nothin', nohow. Jest
put them guns and traps into the other room, so I can find 'em. Aw, go
ahead, you'll need that desk to keep your papers in. You've got to
write all the letters and keep the acc