"Wall, one night two years ago about now, after a big round-up at North Fork, one thousand of old man Quinn's sheep was driven over the bluffs into North Fork River. All that old man Quinn could find out was that four men done it. But he kept a-tryin' to find out, and got a _de_tective down from Kansas City, feller who used to be a cow puncher himself; and he nabbed three of 'em. They had had the gall to stay right there on the range all this time." "Good reason," volunteered some one, "why it took so long to land 'em. I suppose old man Quinn was lookin' for 'em among the punchers that had left after the round-up." "Jest so," declared the informant. "He was tryin' to track up every one who cleared out after the round-up--jest so." "How long did they git?" asked some one further up the aisle. "Two years." "Sandy," some one across the aisle said to the man behind Ross, "wa'n't you down t' Oklahomy punchin' two year ago?" There was a perceptible pause. Then a note of irritation spoke through Sandy's drawl as he answered briefly, "No, north Texas." And, while the rest continued the discussion concerning old man Quinn, he leaned forward and devoted himself to Ross. Presently they came to the hills whose barrenness and sombreness were relieved at intervals by the brilliant coloring of the rocks. "Well," asked Sandy, "what do ye think of this? It ain't every day East that ye can walk around the crater of an old volcano." "Is this----" began Ross, his head out of the window. "This is!" chuckled he of the sandy hair. The train was crawling slowly around the edge of a wide, shallow well, on all sides of which the hills frowned darkly, stripped of every vestige of verdure. "An extinct volcano!" ejaculated Ross. "Yep,"--the other sagged forward until his laughing face was close to Ross's,--"but just let me tell ye right here, young man, that volcanoes is the only thing in the West that's extinct. Everything else is pretty lively." Ross joined in the laugh which greeted this sally all around him. The man opposite lowered his paper, and looked over his glasses. "Volcanoes _and_ hopes, Sandy," he amended quickly, instantly retiring again behind his paper. Ross did not understand the significance of the retort, but he noticed that several men around exchanged glances and that Sandy's face lost a fraction of its good nature. And when Sandy's face lost its humorous expression, it was not pleasing. Dusk and Cody drew near together. The train dropped over the "rim," and steamed along through the Big Horn Basin, coming to a final standstill in front of another station and water-tank. "Cody," announced the brakeman. "All out." Ross, suitcase in hand, his top-coat over his arm, stumbled out of the train, still swaying with the perpetual motion of the last few days. A big open wagon with side seats stood beside the platform. At the call of the driver Ross looked around interrogatively at Sandy, who was still beside him.