The girl studied Sundown's lean face as he gazed across the mesas, wondering how he was going to make his exit without calling undue attention to his dearth of raiment. She had heard that this man, this queer, ungainly outlander, had been companion to Will Corliss. She had also heard that Sundown had been injured when the robbery occurred. Pensively she drew her empty gauntlet through her fingers. "Do you know who took the money--that night?" she asked suddenly, and Sundown straightened and gazed at her. He blinked and coughed. "Bein' no hand to lie to a lady, I do," he said, simply. "But I can't tell, even if you did save me life from that there steer." She bit her lips, and nodded. "I didn't really mean to ask. I was curious to know. Won't you take my horse? You can send him back to-morrow." "And you beat it home afoot? Say, lady, I mebby been a Bo onct, but I ain't hurt that bad. If I can't find me trail back to where I started from, it won't be because it ain't there. Thanks, jest the same." Sundown essayed a step, halted and groaned. He felt of himself gingerly. He did not seem to be injured in any special place, as he ached equally all over. "I'll be goin', lady. I say thanks for savin' me life." The girl smiled and nodded. "Will you please tell Mr. Corliss that I should like to see him, to-morrow, at Fernando's camp? I think he'll understand." "Sure, miss! I'll tell him. That Fernando man looks to be havin' some trouble with them sheep." The girl glanced toward the mesa. Fernando and his assistant were herding the sheep closer, and despite their activity were really getting the frightened animals bunched well. When she turned again Sundown had disappeared. Sundown's arrival in camp, on foot, was not altogether unexpected. One of the men had seen a riderless horse grazing on the mesa, and had ridden out and caught it. Circumstantial evidence--rider and rope missing--confirmed Hi Wingle's remark that "that there walkin' clothes-pin has probably roped somethin' at last." And the "walking clothes-pin's" condition when he appeared seemed to substantiate the cook's theory. "Lose your rope?" queried Wingle as Sundown limped up. "Uhuh. And that ain't all. You ain't got a pair of pants that ain't working have you?" Wingle smiled. "Pants? Think this here's a Jew clothin'-store?" "Nope. But if she was a horsepital now--" "Been visitin'?" "Uhuh. I jest run over to see some friends of mine in a sheep-camp." "Did, eh? And mebby you can tell me what you run over?" "'Most everything out there," said Sundown, pointing to the mesa. "Say, you ain't got any of that plaster like they put on a guy's head when he gets hit with a brick?" "Nope. But I got salt." "And pepper," concluded Sundown with some sarcasm. "Mebby I do look like a barbecue." "Straight, Sun, salt and water is mighty healin'. You better ride over to the Concho and get fixed up."