"I'm going up to take Ambro's place," he began, after a few minutes of silent eating. "Know where his camp is?" "I do," replied Ross, to whom the stranger now appeared in pathetic guise. "Any man of his age consenting to herd sheep is surely hard hit by the rough hand of the world," he reasoned, and the closer he studied his visitor the plainlier he felt his ungoverned past. His chest was hollow, his eyes unnaturally large, and his hands thin, but he still displayed faint lines of the beauty and power he had once gloried in. His clothing was worn and poor, and Ross said: "You'll need plenty of bedding up there." "Is it high?" "About eleven thousand feet." "Jehosaphat! How will I stand that kind of air? Still, it may be it's what I need. I've been living down in the low country for ten years, and I'm a little bit hide-bound." "Lung trouble?" "Oh no; old age, I reckon." "You're not old--not more than fifty-five." "I'm no colt," he admitted; "and, besides, I've lived pretty swift." In this was the hint of a confession, but Cavanagh did not care to have him proceed further in that line. "I suppose Gregg paid your fine?" "Yes." "In any other town in the State you'd have gone down the line." He roused himself. "See here, Mr. Ranger, you've no warrant to believe me, but I told you the God's truth. Young Gregg got me to ride into the range and show him the trail. I didn't intend to get mixed up with a game warden. I've had all the confinement I need." "Well, it's a closed incident now," interposed Ross; "we won't reopen it. Make yourself at home." The stranger, hungry as he was, ate with unexpected gentility, and, as the hot coffee sent its cheerful glow through his body, he asked, with livening interest, a good many questions about the ranger and the Forest Service. "You fellers have to be all-round men. The cowboys think you have a snap, but I guess you earn your money." "A man that builds trail, lays bridges, burns brush, fights fire, rides the round-up, and covers seventy-five miles of trail every week on eighty dollars per month, and feeds himself and his horses, isn't what I would call enjoying a soft snap." "What do you do it for?" "God knows! I've been asking myself that question all day to-day." "This playin' game warden has some outs, too. That was a wild crowd last night. The town is the same old hell-hole it was when I knew it years ago. Fine girl of Lize Wetherford's. She blocked _me_ all right." He smiled wanly. "I certainly was on my way to the green timber when she put the bars up." Ross made no comment, and the other went on, in a tone of reminiscent sadness. "Lize has changed terribly. I used to know her when she was a girl. Judas Priest! but she could ride and shoot in those days!" His eyes kindled with the memory of her. "She could back a horse to beat any woman that ever crossed the range, but I didn't expect to see her have such a skein of silk as that girl. She sure looks the queen to me."