“Herbert,” said Strubell, looking across from his saddle, “in what part of the world do you suppose we are?”
“Why,” replied the youth, surprised by the question, “we must be well advanced into Western Texas.”
“We are in New Mexico,” said the Texan, with a smile, “and have been there for twenty-four hours.”
“That’s good news, though I was expecting it before long.”
“I wasn’t sure of the exact spot where we crossed the border, but it took place yesterday; we are beyond the twenty-sixth meridian, with the Sand Hills far to the east of us, and north of the thirty-second parallel.”
“And how much further to the ranch?”
“The Pecos is less than fifty miles away, and just on the other side of that is Mr. Lord’s ranch. Hello!” he added, quickly bringing his glass to his eyes; “we have seen a few Indians, but, if I am not mistaken, yonder comes a white man.”
Herbert was quick to bring his glass into use, and instantly saw that his friend was right. An individual was drawing near who was destined to play an important part in the stirring incidents at hand.