He was a handsome young chap, dressed in such a manner that Ted could not quite determine what he was. He had not the appearance of a cow-puncher, nor was he a town man, for he was bronzed by the sun, and he sat his mare like a born horseman.
His clothes were dark, save for a tan vest which buttoned close around his throat; his boots were of the very best quality, and fitted the calf of his leg snugly, and on his head was an expensive Stetson, with the skin of a rattlesnake for a band.
But it was his face that affected Ted with a sort of dislike that yet had something of fascination in it, while at the same time it puzzled him, it was such a strange mixture of good and bad.
"Can you tell me what ranch house that is over there, and who owns it?" said the stranger, in a well-bred manner that yet had the freedom of the West in it.
"Yes," answered Ted. "That is the Bubbly Well Ranch, and it is owned by Major Caruthers."
A strange expression passed over the young fellow's face.
"Jack Caruthers—do you happen to know?"
"I have never heard him called Jack," said Ted, smiling. "He signs himself 'John Stairs Caruthers.'"
"It must be the same," said the young fellow musingly.
"Do you know him?" asked Ted.