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The trail divided at this pond Jean had no idea which branch he ought to take "Reckon it doesn't matter," hewith ears up, looking back along the trail Then Jean heard a clip-clop of trotting hoofs, and presently espied a horseirths while he peered over his horse at the approaching rider Allinterest to Jean Isbel This man at a distance rode and looked like all the Arizonians Jean had seen, he had a superb seat in the saddle, and he was long and lean He wore a huge black sombrero and a soiled red scarf His vest was open and he ithout a coat

The rider ca up and halted several paces froruffly

"Howdy yourself!" replied Jean He felt an instinctive i with the man Never had sharper eyes flashed over Jean and his outfit He had a dust-colored, sun-burned face, long, lean, and hard, a huge sandy ht intensity Not very much hard Western experience had passed by this man, yet he was not old, measured by years When he dismounted Jean saas tall, even for an Arizonian

"Seen your tracks back a ways," he said, as he slipped the bit to let his horse drink "Where bound?"

"Reckon I'ht," replied Jean "New country for me"

"Shore I seen thet from your tracks an' your last caot lost?"

The query was deliberately cool, with a dry, crisp ring Jean felt the lack of friendliness or kindliness in it

"Grass Valley My name's Isbel," he replied, shortly

The rider attended to his drinking horse and presently rebridled hi he appeared to step into the saddle

"Shore I knowed you was Jean Isbel," he said "Everybody in the Tonto has heerd old Gass Isbel sent fer his boy"

"Well then, why did you ask?" inquired Jean, bluntly

"Reckon I wanted to see what you'd say"

"So? All right But I'lances locked steadily then and each ible conflict of spirit

"Shore thet's natural," replied the rider His speech was slow, and the arette from his vest, kept time with his words "But seein' you're one of the Isbels, I'll hev my say whether you want it or not My name's Colter an' I'm one of the sheepmen Gass Isbel's riled with"