He trudged on until he could see his mesa through the red trunks of the spruce. Breaking out at the edge of the meadow he halted and stood looking over the familiar scene. Every detail was so familiar to him that he seemed to be entering a room where he had lived a long time. The old yellowbelly whistler sounded a blasting warning and plunged from his high perch. Ground squirrels romped to their dens. On the semibarren little hill the dogs began scolding, “squit-tuck! squit-tuck!” Sam grinned. “Yuh ol’ fool, don’t yuh go makin’ me out no enemy,” he said aloud. His eyes moved eagerly up and down the meadow, then he whistled a few high notes. There was no answering pound of hoofs. The black mare must be at the far end of the mesa. “Must be off cattin’ around,” he mumbled as he shuffled to his cabin door. Before Sam entered the cabin the old whistler discovered his mistake. He sounded an all-clear whistle and the meadow came to life. Sam dropped down on his old chair to watch the busy scene. After a time he got to his feet and pulled the latch thong. The door swung inward protestingly. Everything was as he had left it, except that a wandering cowboy had stopped and made himself a pot of tea and fried a snack of bacon. Sam knew, because the skillet was carefully washed and polished and the cracked teapot was washed and turned upside down on the table. Sam shuffled about the cabin peering at the familiar things within its walls. He finally built a fire. He was hungry for oven biscuits and stove-cooked coffee. He was poking the pine-knot fire to high heat when a voice from the open door made him turn. His faded eyes lighted up eagerly as he saw Major Howard standing there. The major had a grim set to his eyes and his mustache bristled angrily. “Come on out, Sam,” he said gruffly. “Howdy, major,” Sam said. He began to chuckle. Might as well spring the big surprise right away. Then he saw that there were two men with the major, men wearing nickel-plated stars on the flaps of their wool shirts. He blinked his eyes. “Howdy, sheriff,” he said. He barely knew Sheriff Miller, had met him only a couple of times. “Now, Sam,” the major broke in harshly, “come clean. What did you do with that Lady Ebony horse?” “Me?” Sam stared at the major. “Yes!” the major snapped. “You took an awful fancy to that filly, wanted to buy her. You’ve been away a long spell. I brought the sheriff up here, so you better talk and talk fast.” The major’s face was beginning to redden as his anger rose. Sam looked from one man to the other, slowly, his gaze searching their faces. Yes, they were in earnest. A horse thief? Bony fingers pulled at his straggling beard. This wasn’t the way men did, it wasn’t square shooting. He did not pause to consider that Major Howard was not a born western mountainman. He stared defiantly. “So yuh came up here to make me out a hoss thief?”