few paces behind. Opposite the office, they paused.

"Go along with 'em and see that they get the right horse," said the
collector.

The assistant hesitated.

The collector laughed. "Shake hands with Jim Waring, Jack."

When the assistant had gone, the collector turned to Waring. "That's
Jack every time. Stubborn as a tight boot, but good leather every time.
Know why he wanted to shake hands? Well, that's his way of tellin' you
he thinks you're some smooth for not pullin' a fight when it looked like
nothing else was on the bill."

Waring smiled. "I've met you before, haven't I?"

Pat pretended to ignore the question. "Say, stranger," he began with
slow emphasis, "you're makin' mighty free and familiar for a prisoner
arrested for smuggling. Mebby you're all right personal, but officially
I got a case against you. What do you know about raising cucumbers? I
got a catalogue in the office, and me and Jack has been aiming to raise
cucumbers from it for three months. I like 'em. Jack says you can't do
it down here without water every day. Now--"

"Where have you planted them, Pat?"

"Oh, hell! They ain't _planted_ yet. We're just figuring. Now, up Las
Cruces way--"

"Let's go back to the cantina and talk it out. There goes Mexico leading
a horse with an empty saddle. I guess the boy will be all right in the
office."

"Was the kid mixed up in your getaway?"

"Yes. And he's a good boy."

"Well, he's in dam' bad company. Now, Jack says you got to plant 'em in
hills and irrigate. I aim to just drill 'em in and let the A'mighty do
the rest. What do you think?"

"I think you're getting worse as you grow older, Pat. Say, did you ever
get track of that roan mare you lost up at Las Cruces?"

"Yes, I got her back."

"Speaking of horses, I saw a pinto down in Sonora--"

Just then the assistant joined them, and they sauntered to the cantina.
Dex, tied at the rail, turned and gazed at them. Waring took the morral
of grain from the saddle, and, slipping Dex's bridle, adjusted it.

The rugged, lean face of the collector beamed. "I wondered if you
thought as much of 'em as you used to. I aimed to see if I could make
you forget to feed that cayuse."

"How about those goats in your own corral?" laughed Waring.

"Kind of a complimentary cuss, ain't he?" queried Pat, turning to his
assistant. "And he don't know a dam' thing about cucumbers."

"You old-timers give me a pain," said the assistant, grinning.

"That's right