“I thought he had slipped his pack, by the tied-up reins,” said Barreau. “As for catching him and finding you, that was an easy matter. He ran fairly into me, and I had only to look about for a man walking.” “Well,” I returned, taking my sorrel by the rope, “I’m properly grateful for your help. And I have another matter to thank you for, if I am not badly mistaken.” He made a slight gesture of deprecation. “Never mind that,” said he. His attitude was no encouragement to profuse thanks, if I had contemplated such. I turned then to inspect my saddle, and found fresh cause for perplexity. By some means my supply of bread and beef had been shaken from its fastening. The bit of sack hung slack in the strings, but the food was gone. He looked down inquiringly, at my exclamation. “More of my luck,” said I, and explained. “Might I ask,” said he, after a moment of thoughtful scrutiny, “where you are bound for?” “It’s no secret,” I replied. “I’m for the MacLeod country; over the line.” “Then you may as well ride with me this evening,” he invited. “It is only a few miles to the Sanders ranch; you will be that much farther on your way. I can vouch for their hospitality.” I hesitated, for obvious reasons. He smiled, as if he read my mind. And all in a breath I yielded to some subtle confidence-compelling quality of the man, and blurted out my story; the killing of Tupper, that is, and how the Circle men had aided me. “I guessed at something of the sort,” he remarked. “You are new at the game, and you bear the ear-marks of a man on the dodge. We are a rowdy lot out here sometimes, and we can’t always settle our disputes by word of mouth; so that I think you will find most of us inclined to look lightly on what seems to you a serious affair indeed. Tupper had it in store for him; Speer too, for all of that, and many another brute on those river craft. You haven’t much to worry about. Very likely Benton has forgotten the thing by now—unless Bax and Matt Dunn’s men locked horns over it. Of course there is the chance that the Benton and St. Louis Company may hound you for killing one of their officers. But there’s no fear of their coming to Sanders’ after you—not to-night; and to-morrow, and all the other to-morrows, you can take things as they come. That’s the best philosophy for the plains.” He swung a half-mile to the east, and picked up a pack-horse he had left when he took after my mount. Thereafter we loped north in the falling dusk, Barreau riding mute after his long speech, and I, perforce, following his example. At length we drew up at the ranch, a vague huddle of low buildings set in the bend of a creek. Barreau appeared to be quite familiar with the place. Even in the gloom he went straight to the bars of a small, round corral. In this we tied our horses, throwing them hay from a new-made stack close by. Then he led the way to a lighted cabin.