A Rustler's Conscience 143 



need not do. We were lounging near this 

 arch on the northern side, when a tap of 

 hoofs and creak of leather made us look 

 up. A horseman had arrived on the 

 southern brink of the chasm, and evidently 

 wanted to cross. The meeting of men in 

 a wilderness is always excuse for a display 

 of interest and confidence. " Hi, there !" 

 shouted the new arrival. "Is there any 

 way to get over to your side ?" 



"Yes, that bridge is safe, if you look 

 out for the hole in the middle of it." So 

 he came trotting on, driving a herd of 

 about twenty ponies before him, and having 

 drawn rein as he reached us, we had a bit 

 of talk together. Like many of the fron- 

 tiersmen he was restrained and quiet ; 

 browned and furrowed so by sun and wind 

 that he looked, at first glance, older than 

 he was, for he was at the verge of forty ; 

 an easy rider, rough in dress, bearded, 

 long-haired, unkempt ; and he had a doubt- 

 ful, questioning look in his eyes. The 

 usual revolver flapped in its case on his 

 thigh, a knife was in its sheath, a rifle lay 

 across his saddle, and from his belt hung 



