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"That's the right sensible way to look at it. In this little old

world we got to do a heap we don't want to do. For instance, I'd

rather see you to the Mal Pais than hike over the hills after

this fellow," he concluded gallantly.

Neill, who had been packing the coffee-pot and the frying-pan,

now sauntered forward with his horse.

"Well, what's the program?" he wanted to know.

"It's you and Miss Kinney for the Mal Pais, me for the trail. I

ain't very likely to find Mr. Struve, but you can't always

sometimes tell. Anyhow, I'm going to take a shot at it," the

ranger answered.

"And at him?" his friend suggested.

"Oh, I reckon not. He may be a sure-enough wolf, but I expect

this ain't his day to howl."

Steve whistled to his pony, swung to the saddle when it trotted

up, and waved his hat in farewell.

His "Adios!" drifted back to them from the crown of the hill just

before he disappeared over its edge.

CHAPTER VI -- SOMEBODY'S ACTING MIGHTY FOOLISH.