CHAPTER XIII.
AN UNEXPECTED GUEST.
Although it was winter, the air was soft and pleasant, and at noon the sun shone with some fervor.
It was Arizona, and as Ted Strong sat on Sultan and gazed across the wide valley, over which the sun's warm rays shimmered above the sand and cactus, greasewood and sage toward a low-lying ranch house in the far distance, it did not seem at all like Christmas.
But it was Christmas Eve, in spite of the fact that there was no snow, no sleigh bells, no apparent use for Santa Claus, and that roses were blooming in yards where there was sufficient black earth for them to thrive.
Behind his saddle Ted had a great bundle wrapped in burlap and securely tied.
For many miles on the way Ted had cast anxious glances behind him, and occasionally reached back to assure himself that he had not lost his freight.
This argued that it was a very precious burden.
"I guess that must be the place," mused Ted, as he looked at the apparently deserted house.
Not a live creature was to be seen about the place, neither man, woman, nor beast.