You're a stranger hereabouts?"

"I am that."

"Where you hail from?"

"I suppose I might as well say Wyoming as any place," returned the rider, casually.

The other man relaxed with a laugh.

"Shore. One place is good as another. Same as a name. Mine is Hank Hays." He spoke as if he expected it to be recognized, but it caused no reaction in his listener.

"You know this country?" queried the rider, and he too relaxed.

"Tolerable."

"Maybe you can tell me whether I ought to stop or keep on traveling?" inquired the rider, coolly.

"Haw! Haw! I shore can. But thet depends," he said, pushing back his sombrero. The action brought into view a bold visage.

To the rider it was like a printed page, with only the narrow, gray, searching eyes presenting any difficulty.

"Depends on what?" he asked.

"Wal, on you. Have you got any money?"

"About ten dollars."

"Huh! You can't go in the ranch business with thet. Not regular ranchin'. Lots of cattle between here an' the breaks of the Dirty Devil. Henry Mountains, too. Some outfit over there."

"Mormons?"

"About half an' half. This is Utah, but not strong on Mormons over here. Air you a cattleman?"

"No," replied the rider, thoughtfully.

"Wal, thet's straight talk from a stranger," replied Hays, who evidently took the blunt denial as something significant. "Hullo!

Another rider. . . . Shore the desert is full of strangers today."

Back up the trail appeared a short, heavy man astride a horse and leading two pack-animals.

"I saw him awhile back. And here comes our ferryman. Looks like a boy."

"Huh! You haven't them eyes for nothin'. Wal, we'll get across now."

The rider, after another glance at the approaching man with the horses, took note of the ferry. The boy had pushed the boat off, and was rowing it into the current. Soon it came gliding across on the pulley. Boat and third traveler arrived at the bank about the same time. Hays appeared interested in the newcomer, and addressed him civilly. He got but a short answer.

Meanwhile the rider led his horse down the sandy bank and on to the big flat boat. It was crudely thrown together, out of rough-hewn planks, but apparently was safe enough. The bay horse appeared nervous.

Hays, after a sharp look at the man with the three horses, led his animal aboard. The ferry-boy grinned all over his freckled face, in recognition of Hays.

"How much is the fare?" queried the newcomer. He was a bearded man under fifty, rather abrupt and authoritative.

"Two bits."

"For man or beast?"

"Well, sir, the regular fare is two bits for each man an' horse.

But travelers usually give me more."

Whereupon the stout man threw the packs off his horses and carried them up on the boat.

"Wal now, whatinhell is this fussy old geezer about?" queried Hays, much interested.

It was soon manifest.