Chupurosa seemed not to be the stoic, "How-Ugh!" sort of Indian with which fiction has made the world familiar. All the tragedy and unsolvable mystery of his race was written in his face, but he could smile and laugh and talk, and seemed to enjoy life hugely. His leathery face now parted in a grin, and, though he did not rise, he extended a rawhide hand and made his callers welcome. Then he waved them to seats. Much as any other human being would do, he politely inquired after the girl's health and that of her family. Asked as to his own, he shook his head and made a rheumatic grimace. "I've brought a friend to see you, Chupurosa," said Jessamy at last, as, for some reason or other, she had not yet exactly introduced Oliver. Chupurosa looked at the man inquiringly and waited. "This is Oliver Drew," said the girl in what Oliver thought were unnatural, rather tense tones. He saw Jessamy's lips part slightly after his name, and that she was watching the old man intently. Chupurosa nodded in an exaggerated way, and extended a hand, though the two had already gone through the handshake formality. Oliver arose and did his part again, then stood a bit awkwardly before their host. He heard a half-sigh escape the girl. "Señor Drew has not been in our country long," she informed the old man. "He comes from the southern part of the state--from San Bernardino County." Again the exaggerated nodding on the part of Chupurosa. Then there was a pause, which the girl at length broke-- "Did you catch the name, Chupurosa? _Oliver Drew_." Chupurosa politely but haltingly repeated it, and grinned accommodatingly. Jessamy tried again. "Do you know a piece of land down in Clinker Creek Cañon that is called the Old Ivison Place, Chupurosa?" His nod this time was thoughtful. "Señor Drew now owns that, and lives there," she added. Both Jessamy and Oliver were watching him keenly. It seemed to Oliver that there was the faintest suggestion of dilation of the eye-pupils as this last bit of information was imparted. Still, it may have meant nothing. The Indian crumbled natural-leaf with heel of hand and palm, and refilled his terrible pipe. "Any friend of yours is welcome to this country and to my hospitality," he said. "Señor Drew rode all the way up here horseback," the girl pushed on. "You like good horses, Chupurosa. Señor Drew has a fine one. His name is Poche." For the fraction of a second the match that Oliver had handed Chupurosa stood stationary on its trip to the tobacco in his pipe. Chupurosa nodded in his slow way again, and the match completed its mission and fell between the blackened stones. "And you like saddles and bridles, too, I know. You should see Señor Drew's equipment, Chupurosa." Several thoughtful puffs. Then-- "Is it here, Señorita?" "Yes," said the girl breathlessly. "Will you go out and look at it?" This time the headman puffed for nearly a minute; then suddenly he rose with surprising briskness.