little lean-to at the back of the larger room, a
child was wailing in a crib, and before the fire two big, wolfish dogs
were sleeping. They arose slowly to sniff lazily at Mose's garments, and
then returned to their drowse before the fire.

"Stranger, you look putt' nigh beat out," said the man who acted as
host; "you look pale around the gills."

"I am," said Mose; "I got off my course last night, and had to make down
under a pinon. I haven't had anything to eat since yesterday noon."

"Wal, we'll have some taters and sow-belly in a giff or two. Want 'o
wash?"

Mose gladly took advantage of the opportunity to clean the dust and
grime from his skin, though his head was dizzy with hunger. The food was
bacon, eggs, and potatoes, but it was fairly well cooked, and he ate
with great satisfaction.

The men were very much interested in him, and tried to get at the heart
of his relation to Reynolds, but he evaded them. They were lanky
Missourians, types already familiar to him, and he did not care to make
confidants of them. The woman was a graceless figure, a silent household
drudge, sullenly sad, and gaunt, and sickly.

Mose offered to pay for his breakfast, but the boss waved it aside and
said: "Oh, that's all right; we don't see enough people pass to charge,
for a breakfast. Besides, we're part o' the Reynolds' outfit, anyway."

As Mose swung into the saddle his heart was light. Away to the south a
long low cloud of smoke hung. "What is that?" he asked.

"That's the bull-gine on the Great Western; we got two railroads now."

"Which is two too many," said the other man. "First you know the cattle
business will be wiped out o' 'Rickaree County just as it is bein' wiped
out in Cheyenne and Runnin' Bear. Nesters and cow milkers are comin'
in, and will be buildin' fences yet."

"Not in my day," said the host.

"Well, so long," said Mose, and rode away.

The Reynolds' ranch house was built close beside a small creek which had
cut deep into the bottom of a narrow valley between two pinon-covered
hills. It squat in the valley like a tortoise, but was much more
comfortable than most ranch houses of the county. It was surrounded by
long sheds and circular corrals of pine logs, and looked to be what it
was, a den in which to seek shelter. A blacksmith's forge was sending up
a shower of sparks as Mose rode through the gate and up to the main
stable.

A long-bearded old man tinkering at some repairs to a plow nodded at t