He turned away and took a few steps along the bank. Then all at once he stopped and walked back.
“Say, Bud, how big is that north pasture place you were telling about?” he asked. “I don’t seem to remember going over it when I was—”
He broke off abruptly, and a sudden flush burned into his cheeks at the realization that he had almost betrayed himself. Fortunately Jessup did not seem to notice the slip.
“I don’t know exactly,” replied the youngster. “About two miles square, maybe. Why?”
“Oh, I just wondered,” shrugged Stratton. “Well, so-long.”
Again they parted, Bud returning to the harness-room, where he would have to finish his work by lantern-light.
“Gee, but that was close!” murmured Bud, feeling his way through the darkness. “Just about one more word and I’d have given away the show completely.”
He paused under a cottonwood as a gleam of light from the open bunk-house door showed through the leaves.
“I wonder?” he mused thoughtfully. 105
A waste of sand, cactus, and scanty desert growth! In Arizona nothing is more ordinary or commonplace, more utterly lacking in interest and significance. Yet Stratton’s mind returned to it persistently as he considered one by one the scanty details of Jessup’s brief narrative.