“Hello, there!  That you, Jack?”

“Nope.  It’s me—­Sundown from the Concho.”

“Concho, eh?  Was headed that way myself.  Saw the dog.  Thought mebby it was Jack’s dog.”

“Goin’ to stop?” queried Sundown as the other advanced, leading his horse.

“Guess I’ll have to.  Don’t fancy riding at night.  Getting too old.”  And the short, genial-faced stranger laughed heartily.

“Well, they’s plenty room.  Had your supper?”

“No, but I got some chuck along with me.  Got a match?”

Sundown produced matches.  The other rolled a cigarette and studied Sundown’s face covertly in the glow of the match.  In the flare Sundown beheld a thick-set, rather short-necked man, smooth-shaven, and of a ruddy countenance.  He also noticed that the stranger wore a coat, and at once surmised that he was neither cowboy nor herder.

“Guess I’ll stake out the hoss,” said the man.  “See you later.”

Chance, who had stood with head lowered and neck outstretched, whined and leaped up at Sundown, standing with paws on his master’s chest and vainly endeavoring to tell him something.  The dog’s eyes were eloquent and intense.

Sundown patted him.  “It’s all right, Chance.  That guy’s all right. 
Guess I know a good face when I see one.  What’s the matter, anyway?”

Chance dropped to his feet and stalked to his corner.  He settled himself with a lugubrious sigh, as though unwillingly relinquishing his responsibilities in the matter.

When the stranger returned, Sundown had a fire going.  “Feels good,” commented the man, rubbing his hands and surveying the room in the glow that flared up as he lifted the stove-lid.  “On your way in?”

“Me?  Nope.  I’m goin’ to Antelope.”

“So?  Is Jack Corliss hurt bad?”

“He was kind o’ shook up for a couple of days.  Guess he’s gettin’ along all right now.  Reckon you heard what somebody done to Fadeaway.”

The stranger nodded.  “They got him, all right.  Knew Fade pretty well myself.  Guess I’ll eat.—­That coffee of yours was good, all right,” he said as he finished eating.  He reached for the coffee-pot and tipped it.  “She’s plumb empty.”

“I’ll fill her,” volunteered Sundown, obligingly.

As he disappeared in the darkness, the stranger stepped to the rear door of the room and opened it.  Then he closed the door and stooping laid his saddle and blankets against it.  “He can’t make a break that way,” he said to himself.  As Sundown came in, the man noticed that the front door creaked shrilly when opened or closed and seemed pleased with the fact.  “Too bad about Fadeaway,” he said, helping himself to more coffee.  “Wonder who got him?”

“I dunno.  I found me boss with his head busted the same day they got Fade.”

“Been riding for the Concho long?”

“That ain’t no joke, if you’re meanin’ feet and inches.”