They settled in hard-bottomed, uncertain-legged chairs, and Jed--whoever he might be, Danny thought, as he remembered the name--gave their order to the man, who was, among other things, waiter and cook. "Make it two sirloins," he said; "one well done an' one--" He lifted his eyebrows at Danny. "Rare," the boy said. "An' some light bread an' a pie," concluded the employer-host. Danny saw that the cook wore a scarf around his neck and down his back, knotted in three places. When he moved on the floor it was evident that he wore riding boots. On his wrists were the leather cuffs of the cowboy. Danny smiled. A far cry, indeed, this restaurant in Colt, Colorado, from his old haunts along the dark thoroughfare that is misnamed a lighted way! The other was talking: "We'll leave soon's we're through an' make it on up th' road to-night. It'll take us four days to get to th' ranch, probably, an' we might's well commence. Can you ride?" Danny checked a short affirmative answer on his lips. "I've ridden considerably," he said. "You people wouldn't call it riding, though. You'll have to teach me." "Well, that's a good beginnin'. To be sure it is. Them as has opinions is mighty hard to teach--'cause opinions is like as not to be dead wrong." He smeared butter on a piece of bread and poked it into his mouth. Then: "I brought out my last hand--I come with him, I mean. Th' sheriff brought him. His saddle an' bed's over to th' stable. You can use 'em." "Sheriff?" asked Danny. "Get into trouble?" "Oh, a little. He's a good boy, mostly--except when he gets drinkin'." Danny shoved his thumb down against the tines of the steel fork he held until they bent to uselessness. CHAPTER IV The Trouble Hunter Knee to knee, at a shacking trot, they rode out into the glory of big places, two horses before them bearing the light burden of a Westerner's bed. "My name's Jed Avery," the little man broke in when they were clear of the town. "I'm located over on Red Mountain--a hundred an' thirty miles from here. I run horses--th' VB stuff. They call me Jed--or Old VB; mostly Jed now, 'cause th' fellers who used to call me Old VB has got past talkin' so you can hear 'em, or else has moved out. Names don't matter, anyhow. It ain't a big outfit, but I have a good time runnin' it. Top hands get thirty-five a month." Danny felt that there was occasion for answer of some sort. In those few words Avery had given him as much information as he could need, and had given it freely, not as though he expected to open a way for the satisfaction of any curiosity. He wanted to forget the past, to leave it entirely behind him; did not want so much as a remnant to cling to him in this new life. Still, he did not deem it quite courteous to let the volunteered information come to him and respond with merely an acknowledgment.