During the plowing season, the blacksmith at the Diamond H suddenly decided to leave for parts unknown, between sunset and sunrise. The cowboys were all able to shoe their own ponies, but tires had to be set, tools sharpened, plowpoints kept in shape, pumping machinery needed constant repairing, and a first-class blacksmith was a necessity on the Diamond H. Willcox could not fill the vacancy, and advertisements in Tucson and even Los Angeles papers brought no response. Each of the men on the ranch had done the best he could to fill the void, but all acknowledged ruefully, "it's a durn sight different from jest shoein' a pony." In this emergency Loco, the Mexican who had obtained work at the Diamond H after leaving Walton, announced that he had been a blacksmith in Mexico. "Well, he can't do no worse than the rest of us," Bronco decided, but one day's trial proved Loco was first-class in that work, and so he was transferred from range work to the blacksmith shop with increased pay and additional respect. He was pounding a red-hot iron on the anvil one day, when Traynor sauntering to the entrance of the shop, stood watching him. "How soon will you be ready to start, Loco?" he asked. "In a few minutes I will finish, Senor." "What is it?" Traynor asked idly. Without looking up the Mexican replied; "It is a branding iron, Senor." He skillfully bent the end of the iron, thrust it into a tub of water for a couple of seconds, then withdrew and examined it critically, after which he heated it again. It was a peculiarly shaped iron, and Traynor dropped on a box and looked with interest, as Loco pressed it on a board, leaving a mark covering a space four inches each way. O--O X X "That's an odd brand," said Traynor, picking up the burnt board and scrutinizing it, while the Mexican regarded him closely. "It is my horse brand," explained Loco. "Apache is leg weary and I am going to turn him on the range a while. I bought another horse." "There are plenty good horses in the herd without using your pony, Loco." The Mexican shook his head; "Many thanks, Senor, but I can do better work with my own horse." "Well suit yourself;" Traynor agreed carelessly. "I want you to go with me this morning to Mud Springs, so I can show you where I want the ditch dug and the mill put up." Loco was studying the iron with the smile of an artisan who recognizes a satisfactory piece of work. "I will get the horses, Senor;" he said, and turned to the stable carrying the branding iron in his hand.