
| The Killer | 3 |
| The Road Agent | 135 |
| The Tide | 157 |
| Climbing for Goats | 189 |
| Moisture, a Trace | 211 |
| The Ranch | 229 |
[Pg 3]
ToC
I want to state right at the start that I am writing this story twentyyears after it happened solely because my wife and Señor Buck Johnsoninsist on it. Myself, I don't think it a good yarn. It hasn't any lovestory in it; and there isn't any plot. Things just happened, one thingafter the other. There ought to be a yarn in it somehow, and I supposeif a fellow wanted to lie a little he could make a tail-twister out ofit. Anyway, here goes; and if you don't like it, you know you can quitat any stage of the game.
It happened when I was a kid and didn't know any better than to do suchthings. They dared me to go up to Hooper's ranch and stay all night; andas I had no information on either the ranch or its owner, I saddled upand went. It was only twelve miles from our Box Springs ranch—a niceeasy ride. I should explain that heretofore I had ridden the Gila end ofour range, which is so far away that only vague rumours of Hooper hadever reached me at all. He was reputed a tough old devil with horridhabits; but that meant little to me. The tougher and horrider they came,the better they suited me—so I thought. Just to make everythingentirely clear I will add that this was in the year of 1897 and the SodaSprings valley in Arizona.
[Pg 4]By these two facts you old timers will gather the setting of my tale.Indian days over; "nester" days with frame houses and vegetable patchesnot yet here. Still a few guns packed for business purposes; Mexican