Must all be in bed at Williston’s—no light anywhere. A little short of where the Williston branch left the main trail, he half paused. If it were not so late, he would ride up and give them a hail. But of course they were asleep. Everything seemed still and dark about the premises. He would just plod along.
“Hello, there! Where’d you come from?” he cried of a sudden, and before he had had time to carry his resolve into action.
A man on horseback had drawn rein directly in front of him. Jim blinked with the suddenness of the shock.
“Might ask you the same question,” responded the other with an easy laugh. “I’m for town to see the doctor about my little girl. Been puny for a week.”
“Oh! Where you from?” asked Jim, with the courteous interest of his kind.
“New man on the X Y Z,” answered the other, lightly. “Must be gettin’ on. Worried about my baby girl.”
He touched spurs to his horse and was off with a friendly “So long,” over his shoulder.
Jim rode on thoughtfully.
“Now don’t it beat the devil,” he was thinking, “how that there cow-puncher struck this trail comin’ from the X Y Z—with the X Y Z clean t’other side o’ town? Yep, it beats the devil, for a fac’. He must be a ridin’ for his health. It beats the devil.” This last was long drawn out. He rode a little farther. “It beats the devil,” he thought again,—the wonder of it was waking him up,—“how that blamed fool could a’ struck this here trail a goin’ for Doc.”
At the branch road he stopped irresolutely.