The Overlanders saw him hitch his revolver holster into convenient position as he stood up and leaned easily against a tree.
“As I was saying,” he began. “Sometimes it rains and sometimes it snows, and—”
“Hands up!” rang out a sudden command. “Put ’em up till I look you over.”
Stacy Brown was the only one of the party that obeyed the command. The Overlanders were too much interested in the newcomer to obey the command, for he was fantastically clad. The fellow was holding two revolvers which he kept moving from side to side, his keen eyes regarding the party appraisingly as well as alertly. It was his clothing that attracted most attention, for the man was dressed like a Mexican rancher, with the velvet jacket, embroidered with silver, the broad sombrero, likewise embellished with silver, and the faint metallic tinkle of silver spurs was heard as he shifted his position.
The keen expression in his eyes changed to a twinkle.
“Well, well, who would have thought it!” he exclaimed. “A bunch of foozleheads.”
“Ha, ha, ha!” laughed Stacy Brown. “Foozleheads! That is a brand new one. Emma, he is looking at you.”
The newcomer lowered his weapons and shoved them into their holsters.
“Well, who are you?” demanded Ham White. “You appear to be a new specimen up here.”
“Who, me? Haven’t you heard of me? I’m Jim Haley, sole representative of the International Peanut Company in the State of Washington. I’m known as the Man from Seattle, and I’ll have peanuts in every home, in every bandit cave in the great preserves of the State, and all over the rugged peaks of the Cascades if I hold out long enough. Peanuts are a great civilizer; they are the oil on troubled waters, and if the wild men up here were to eat enough of them I’ll guarantee that they never would hold up another unfortunate traveler.”