The old clerk nodded, his dull eye on the pocket into which all that money had disappeared. "Well, I'm going out for a while, and I may not be back. That's all." With that the doctor passed out into the street. Eight hours between him and the last chance at Claim Number One--eight hours, and sixty miles. That was not such a mighty stretch for a good horse to cover in eight hours--nothing heroic; very ordinary in truth, for that country. With a clearly defined purpose, Slavens headed for the corral opposite the Hotel Metropole, beside which the man camped who had horses for hire. A lantern burned at the closed flap of the tent. After a little shaking of the pole and rough shouting, the man himself appeared, overalled and booted and ready for business. "You must weigh a hundred and seventy?" said he, eying his customer over after he had been told what a horse was wanted for. "What's your hurry to git to Meander?" "A hundred and eighty," corrected the doctor, "and none of your business! If you want to hire me a horse, bring him out. If you don't, talk fast." "I ain't got one I'd hire you for that ride, heavy as you are," said the man; "but I've got one a feller left here for me to sell that I'd sell you." "Let me see him," said the doctor. The man came out of the straw-covered shed presently, leading a pretty fair-looking creature. He carried a saddle under his arm. While the doctor looked the beast over with the lantern the man saddled it. "Well, how much?" demanded the doctor. "Hundred and fifty," said the man. "I'll give you a hundred, and that's fifty more than he's worth," the doctor offered. "Oh, well, seein' you're in such a rush," the man sighed. As he pocketed the price he gave the directions asked. "They's two roads to Meander," he explained; "one the freighters use that runs over the hills and's solid in most all kinds of weather, and the stage-road, that follows the river purty much. It's shorter by a few miles and easier to foller; but it's got some purty loose ground here and there." "Much obliged," said the doctor, striking his heels to his horse's sides and galloping off, following the road which he had seen the stages take to Meander, in the days when Claim Number One was farther off even than eight hours and sixty miles. CHAPTER XI NUMBER ONE In Meander that morning people began to gather early at the land-office, for it was the first day for filing, and a certain designated number, according to the rules laid down and understood before the drawing, must appear and make entry on their chosen tracts.