The foreman keenly scrutinized the newcomer, as he always examined strangers. The two guns swinging low on the hips caught his eyes instantly but he showed no particular interest in them, notwithstanding the fact that they proclaimed a gunman. "Why I reckon I got a job for you," he said. "I been waitin’ to keep somebody over on Cherokee Range. But it’s time to eat: we’ll talk later." After the meal the outfit passed the time in various ways until bed-time, the foreman talking to the new member of his family. During the night the foreman awakened several times and looked toward the newcomer’s bunk but found nothing suspicious. After breakfast he called Hopalong and one of the others to him. "Ned," he said, "take Cassidy over to his range and come right back. Hey, Charley! You an’ Jim take them poles down to th’ ford an’ fence in that quicksand just south of it. Ben says he ’s been doin’ nothin’ but pullin’ cows outen it. All right, Tim; comin’ right away." Ned and the new puncher lost no time but headed east at once with a packhorse carrying a week’s provisions for one man. The country grew rougher rapidly and when they finally reached the divide a beautiful sight lay below them, stretching as far as eye could see to the east. In the middle distance gleamed the Cherokee, flowing toward the south through its valley of rocks, canyons, cliffs, draws and timber. "There ’s th’ hut," said Ned, pointing to a small gray blot against the dead black of a towering cliff. "Th’ spring’s just south of it. Bucket Hill, up north there, is th’ north boundary; Twin Spires, south yonder is th’ other end; an’ th’ Cherokee will stop you on th’ east side. You ride in every Sat’day if you wants. Don’t get lonesome," he grinned and, wheeling abruptly, went back the way they had come.