“_Á Dios_,” he called to her. Then slowly he rode to the watering-trough. “_Muy Bueno_” buried his nose deep in the cool water, and drank with great gulps. Stephen could feel the barrel of the pony swell beneath the cinch. When he could hold no more, “_Muy Bueno_” raised his head from the trough questioningly, the drops of water about the gray muzzle glistening in the sun. Stephen pressed the reins against the horse’s neck, and turned him towards the Dominion trail, which showed as a ribbon of white upon the hills to the eastward. Close behind him he heard a familiar voice singing an old song: “La, la, boom, boom. La, la, boom, boom.” The last word was sung with unusual emphasis, serving as a salutation and hail. Wah, beaming with his usual joyousness, was trotting towards him. “Hey, me bludder, me bludder. You gettee canned! Oh, me bludder, you allee samee fool gettee drunk. You beat it to Dominion? Me bludder welly wise! La, la, boom, boom!” Wah concluded his outburst with a peal of laughter. Stephen looked down solemnly at him. “Damned funny, isn’t it, Wah?” “Oh, me bludder, me bludder!”—Wah could get no further, before another paroxysm of laughter overcame him. Recovering somewhat, he produced from his blouse a greasy looking package. “Me bludder get nothing to eat before he come to Dominion. Wah bring him pie, oh, lubbly, lubbly pie.” Stephen was deeply touched by the Chinaman’s kindness. He shook his hand warmly. “I had forgotten all about food. Good-bye, Wah, and thank you a lot.” “Oh, me bludder, wait one minnie moming. I have note. Missee Cameron, she send me bludder a note!” Wah, with some labor, produced from his pocket a little envelope, and handed it to Loring. “Oh, lubbly, lubbly note! Oh, lubbly—” “Shut up, Wah!” flared Stephen. White as death, he took the note from Wah, and slipped it inside his shirt. He could not trust himself to read it. “Please thank her, Wah, and—” He could say no more. Slowly he turned his horse, and rode towards the hills. Wah walked away, murmuring beneath his breath: “La, la, boom, boom, me poor bludder. He must habee hellee headache. La, la, boom, boom.” Stephen soon reached the place on the trail where was situated the old deserted “Q” ranch. A rusty iron tank by the shanty bore the crudely painted sign: “Water, Cattle 10 cts. per head. Horses 25 cts.” Beside the tank, however, in what had evidently formerly been an empty bed, gushed a clear stream of water. Stephen smiled when he saw how nature had thwarted the primitive monopoly. Dismounting, he lifted the saddle from his horse’s back. Then he deftly hobbled him, and left him to eat what grass there was by the rocky stream bed, within a radius which he could cover with his fore legs tied together. Stephen then seated himself on the ground, propped the saddle behind his back, and proceeded to light a pipe, and to think. All the events of the past few hours had come upon him with such rapidity that he had had no time for reflection.