“Any one,” said Anthony, to lure the other on, “could see that.”

“Sure; any one with bad eyes.”

“But how can you tell it’s sixty miles?”

“I’ve been there.”

“Well, at least the big tree there and the ranchhouse will not be very hard to find.  But I suppose I’ll have to travel in a circle around the Little Brothers, keeping a sixty-mile radius?”

“If you want to waste a pile of time.  Yes.”

“I suppose you could lead me right to the spot?”

“I could.”

“How?”

“That’s about fifty-five miles straight north-east of the Little Brothers.”

“How the devil can you tell that, man?”

“That ain’t hard.  They’s a pretty steady north wind that blows in them parts.  It’s cold and it’s strong.  Now when you been out there long enough and get the idea that the only things that live is because God loves ’em.  Mostly it’s jest plain sand and rock.  The trees live because they got protection from that north wind.  Nature puts moss on ’em on the north side to shelter ’em from that same wind.  Look at that picture close.  You see that rough place on the side of that tree—­jest a shadow like the whiskers of a man that ain’t shaved for a week?  That’s the moss.  Now if that’s north, the rest is easy.  That place is north-east of the Little Brothers.”

“By Jove! how did you get such eyes?”

“Used ’em.”

“The reason I’d like to find the house is because—­”

“Reasons ain’t none too popular with me.”

“Well, you’re pretty sure that your suggestion will take me to the spot?”

“I’m sure of nothing except my gun when the weather’s hot.”

“Reasonably sure, however?  The pine trees and the house—­if I don’t find one I’ll find the other.”

“The house’ll be in ruins, probably.”

“Why?”

“That picture was taken a long time ago.”

“Do you read the mind of a picture, Mr. Wilkes?”

“No.”

“The tree, however, will be there.”

“No, that’s chopped down.”

“That’s going a bit too far.  Do you mean to say you know that this particular tree is down?”

“That’s first growth.  All that country’s been cut over.  D’you think they’d pass up a tree the size of that?”

“It’s going to be hard,” said Anthony with a frown, “for me to get used to the West.”

“Maybe not.”

“I can ride and shoot pretty well, but I don’t know the people, I haven’t worn their clothes, and I can’t talk their lingo.”

“The country’s mostly rocks when it ain’t ground; the people is pretty generally men and women; the clothes they wear is cotton and wool, the lingo they talk is English.”

It was like a paragraph out of some book of ultimate knowledge.  He was not entirely contented with his statement, however, for now he qualified it as follows:  “Maybe some of ’em don’t talk good book English.  Quite a pile ain’t had much eddication; in fact there ain’t awful many like me.  But they can tell you how much you owe ’em an’ they’ll understand you when you say you’re hungry.  What’s your business?  Excuse me; I don’t generally ask questions.”