Next day Bartley had ridden better than forty miles, and that night he stayed at a ranch, where he was made welcome. In fact, any one who rode a good horse and appeared to be even halfway civil never suffered for want of a meal or a bed in those days. Gasoline has somewhat diluted such hospitality, yet there are sections of Arizona still unspoiled, where the stranger is made to feel that the word "home" has retained its ancient and honorable significance.
CHAPTER XXII
BOX-S BUSINESS
A few days later, Bartley stopped at a small town to have his horse shod. The blacksmith seemed unusually interested in the horse and complimented Bartley upon owning such a good mount.
"Comes from up San Andreas way," said the smith, noticing the brand on Dobe's flank.
"Yes. I picked him up at Antelope. I understand he was raised on Senator Brown's ranch."
"That's Steve Brown's brand, all right. Heard the news from up that way?"
"Nothing special."