"That was the name of the ranch," said the boy. "I was told to go there and get a couple of ponies."
"An' how was you figurin' on gettin' to the ranch? Walkin'?"
"Not if I could help it. And that," he added, pointing to the desert, "I should think would be mean stuff to walk on."
"Mean she is," commented Wilbur's new acquaintance, "but even s'posin' that you did scare up a pony, how did you dope it out that you would hit up the right trail? This here country is plumb tricky. And the trail sort of takes a nap every once in a while and forgets to show up."
"I didn't expect to find my way alone," said the boy. "If nobody had been here, I'd have found somebody to show me—"
"Hold hard," said the cowboy, interrupting, "till I look over that layout. If you hadn't ha' found anybody, you'd ha' found somebody? Shuffle 'em up a bit, pard, and try a new deal."
"But," continued Wilbur, not paying any attention to the interruption, "I fully expected that some one from the ranch would be here to meet me."
"If all your conjectoors comes as near bein' accurate as that same," said the other, "you c'd set up as a prophet and never call the turn wrong. Which I'm some attached to the ranch myself."
"I thought you were, probably," said Wilbur, "and I'm much obliged to you, if you came to meet me."
"That's all right! But if you're ready, maybe we'd better start interviewin' the scenery on the trail. How about chuck?"