As the train pulled out of the station on the way to Denver the principal topic of conversation was the remarkable coincidence of the rencounter of Jack and Cal, emphasized by the more remarkable meeting of Cal and Bert Lillis. "Well, that beats me," said Cal. "I've got another surprise in Denver for you," said Jack. "Will it beat this one?" "Wait until you see our old friend, Chiquita." "Chiquita, the injun gal?" asked Cal, inquiringly. "Yes, Yamanatz's daughter." CHAPTER XIII. ESTES PARK. The renewal of the acquaintance between Jack and Cal was an opportune one. As each unfolded his past and expectations for the future there seemed to be a bond of mutual sympathy formed unlike the ordinary friendships. "Jack," said Cal, confidentially, "I have laid up a good pile of 'dust' and got as likely a ranch outfit as any of 'em. I ain't so much on talk as some fellers with slippery tongues, neither is any one going to get the worst of it as they do what deals with some of them slippery talkers. When Cal says a thing's so, it's so, just as sure as gun's made of iron. Now, I'm gittin' on in years, an' git lonesome as a settin' hen without airy egg. I ain't a pinin' away, but I would like to gin some desarvin' woman a good home. I'd kinder like to live in Denver and have a house up among them nabobs. I don't expect that big red stone quarry is goin' to give out right away and I just as lieve as not use some of it to build a decent mansion. Then I've got a few thousand steers;--they's one bunch of eighteen hundred fat ones, every one of them beef to the heels, true Herefords, got the Hereford mark, that will run twelve to fourteen hundred pounds apiece, and prime beeves are good as cash anywhere. I think that bunch of steers ought to provide a pretty good place to live in as long as the stone don't cost nothin'." [Illustration: THE "KEYHOLE," LONG'S PEAK, 13,000 FEET ABOVE SEA LEVEL.] Cal stopped and looked curiously at Jack, who was looking curiously at him. "You are not so awful poor. Been about fifteen years making it?" asked Jack musingly. "Well, longer than that. I took up that stone ranch twenty years ago. Never thought much of it until Denver got into the buildin' boom and some feller was cartin' away my red rock without asking--the cattle, well in freightin' and ranchin' I run onto many a 'maverick' durin' the spring round-ups, then some young tenderfoot would get a rich uncle to stake him; but when one of them March blizzards struck his weavin', staggerin', half-famished bunch he would get sick and be glad to turn over his travelin' boneyard for a couple of hundred or less, an' I kept addin' to 'em until I got into raisin' nothin' but thoroughbreds," answered Cal. "Let me tell you something, Cal. I'll put you onto the right track and if you can't manage to do the right thing at the right time, you'll have to live in that red house by yourself, see?" "I savvey."