It was very large, and full of hardware, harness, saddles, blankets--everything that cowboys and ranchmen use. Several men, two in shirt-sleeves, were chatting near the door. They saw me come in, and then, for all that it meant to them, I might as well not have been in existence at all. So I sat down to wait, determined to take Western ways and things as I found them. I sat there fifteen minutes by my watch. This was not so bad; but when a lanky, red-faced, leather-legged individual came in too he at once supplied with his wants, I began to get angry. I waited another five minutes, and still the friendly chatting went on. Finally I could stand it no longer. “Will somebody wait on me?” I demanded. One of the shirt-sleeved men leisurely got up and surveyed me. “Do you want to buy something?” he drawled. “Yes, I do.” “Why didn't you say so?” The reply trembling on my lips was cut short by the entrance of Buell. “Hello!” he said in a loud voice, shaking hands with me. “You've trailed into the right place. Smith, treat this lad right. It's guns an' knives an' lassoes he wants, I'll bet a hoss.” “Yes, I want an outfit,” I said, much embarrassed. “I'm going to meet a friend out in Penetier, a ranger--Dick Leslie.” Buell started violently, and his eyes flashed. “Dick--Dick Leslie!” he said, and coughed loudly. “I know Dick.... So you're a friend of his'n? ... Now, let me help you with the outfit.” Anything strange in Buell's manner was forgotten, in the absorbing interest of my outfit. Father had given me plenty of money, so that I had but to choose. I had had sense enough to bring my old corduroys and boots, and I had donned them that morning. One after another I made my purchases--Winchester, revolver, holsters, ammunition, saddle, bridle, lasso, blanket. When I got so far, Buell said: “You'll need a mustang an' a pack-pony. I know a feller who's got jest what you want.” And with that he led me out of the store. “Now you take it from me,” he went on, in a fatherly voice, “Holston people haven't got any use for Easterners. An' if you mention your business--forestry an' that--why, you wouldn't be safe. There's many in the lumberin' business here as don't take kindly to the Government. See! That's why I'm givin' you advice. Keep it to yourself an' hit the trail today, soon as you can. I'll steer you right.” I was too much excited to answer clearly; indeed, I hardly thanked him. However, he scarcely gave me the chance. He kept up his talk about the townspeople and their attitude toward Easterners until we arrived at a kind of stock-yard full of shaggy little ponies. The sight of them drove every other thought out of my head. “Mustangs!” I exclaimed. “Sure. Can you ride?” “Oh yes. I have a horse at home.... What wiry little fellows! They're so wild-looking.” “You pick out the one as suits you, an' I'll step into Cless's here. He's the man who owns this bunch.”