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Updated: June 5, 2025


Other men in the group, besides Leviatt and Tucson, had seen the stray-man coming, and as he came nearer, the talk died and a sudden silence fell. Ferguson came to a point within ten feet of the group of men, who were ranged along the wall of the bunkhouse. Stafford had come up rapidly, and he now stood near a corner of the bunkhouse in an attitude of intense attention.

"Thanks, but I'll pay " "Not on your life, mister." "Then I'll remember your advice." "Good. S'long." Tresler had not the smallest inclination for sleep. He was tired enough physically, but his brain was still much too active. Besides, the bunkhouse was uninviting to him as yet.

First came the camp building, the bunkhouse, grub-house, office, blacksmith shop, and beyond these the glaring lights of a couple of saloons, while back nearer timber the "red lights," the curse and shame of railroad, lumber, and mining camps in British Columbia then and unto this day, cast their baleful lure through the snowy night.

It was near midnight when Ferguson rode in to the Two Diamond ranchhouse leading Rope's pony. He carefully unsaddled the two animals and let them into the corral, taking great pains to make little noise. Rope's saddle a peculiar one with a high pommel bearing a silver plate upon which the puncher's name was engraved he placed conspicuously near the door of the bunkhouse.

The two cowboys did not stop to hear any more, but hurried off excitedly to take the news to their companions. They burst into the bunkhouse, where the men had already sat down to supper. "Boys, we're all a bunch o' locoed Piutes," yelled Sandy. "Do you know who this boy Wilson is, eh? He's the feller that won the Marathon fer Uncle Sam at the Olympic games, an' we never knew it.

The interrupted anecdote went on to a finish and the men trooped out and left the prodigal alone with his hash. When that young man reached the bunkhouse Frisco was indulging in a reminiscence. Reddy got only the last of it, but that did not contribute to his serenity. "Yep! When I was working on the Silver Dollar. Must a-been three years ago, I reckon, when Jerry Miller got that chapping."

The men of the outfit were already at the table, and after washing their faces from the tin wash basin on the bench outside the door, Leviatt and Tucson entered the bunkhouse and took their places. Greetings were given and returned through the medium of short nods with several of the men even this was omitted.

"Mebbe her cayuse has broke a leg or somethin'." He grinned at Uncle Jepson. "I expect there ain't nothin' to worry about. I'll go look for her." He climbed slowly into the saddle, and with a wave of the hand to the elderly couple rode his pony down past the bunkhouse at a pace that was little faster than a walk.

Two into one won't go without leaving a lot over. Good-night, Joe." "So long. Them fellers as gits figgerin' mostly gits crazed fer doin' what's impossible. Guess I ain't stuck on figgers nohow." And the man vanished into the night, while Tresler passed into the bunkhouse to get what little sleep his first night as a ranchman might afford him.

"He tried to kill me, I tell you!" Lanpher gritted through his teeth. "He didn't gimme a chance!" "Any of you boys see it?" repeated Alicran, paying no attention to Lanpher. "How could we?" asked Rod Rockwell, glancing up from the bandaging of Lanpher's arm. "We was all in the bunkhouse."

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