Pop had, this being part of his stock in trade. Buck looked the lot over carefully, finally picking out a thirty-eight Colt with a good heft. When he had paid for this and a supply of ammunition, Pop led the way out to a shed back of the store and pointed out a Fraser saddle, worn but in excellent condition, hanging from a hook. "It's a wonder to me any cow-man is ever fool enough to sell his saddle," commented Stratton as he took it down. "They never get much for 'em, and new ones are so darn ornery to break in." "Yuh said it," agreed Daggett. "I'd ruther buy one second-hand than new any day. There's the bridle. Yuh take that roan in the near stall. He ain't much to look at, but he'll travel all day." Fifteen minutes later the roan, saddled and bridled, pawed the dust beside the hitching rack in front of the store, while Buck Stratton made a small bundle of his coat, vest, and a few necessaries from his bag and fastened it behind the saddle. The remainder of his belongings had been left with Pop Daggett, who lounged in the doorway fingering a roll of bills in his trousers pocket and watching his new acquaintance with smiling amiability. "Well, I'll be going," said Stratton, tying the last knot securely. "I'll bring your cayuse back to-morrow or the day after at the latest." Pop looked surprised. "The day after?" he repeated. "What's goin' to keep yuh that long?" "Will you be needing the horse sooner?" "No, I dunno's I will. But seems like yuh ought to be back by noon to-morrow. It ain't more 'n eighteen miles." He straightened abruptly and his blue eyes widened. "Say, young feller! Yuh ain't thinkin' of gettin a job out there, are yuh?" Stratton hesitated for an instant. "Well, I don't know," he shrugged presently. "I've got to get to work right soon at something." Daggett took a swift step or two across the sagging porch, his face grown oddly serious. "Wal, I wouldn't try the Shoe-Bar, nohow. There's the Rockin'-R. They're short a man or two. Yuh go see Jim Tenny an' tell him--" "What's the matter with the Shoe-Bar?" persisted Buck. Pop's glance avoided Stratton's. "Yuh--wouldn't like it," he mumbled, glancing down the trail. "It--it ain't like it was in Joe's time. That there Tex Lynch--he--he don't get on with the boys." "Who's he? The foreman?" "Yeah. Beauty Lynch, some calls him 'count uh his looks. I ain't denyin' he's han'some, with them black eyes an' red cheeks uh his, but somethin' queer--Like I said, there ain't nobody stays long at the Shoe-Bar. Yuh take my advice, Buck, an' try the Rockin'-R. They's a nice bunch there." Buck swung himself easily into the saddle; "I'll think about it," he smiled, gathering up the reins. "Well, so-long; see you in a day or so, anyway. Thanks for helping me out, old-timer."