It looked more like an overgrown log-house or frontier fort than anything else.
In the rear of this dwelling was a substantially-built and commodious stable, looking as if it were capable of accommodating a large number of animals.
An air of perfect peace and quiet was brooding over the place, and it seemed fairly to be sleeping in the warmth of the summer afternoon; but for all that sharp eyes were ever peering from out the numerous holes in the front of the structure, and no one could have approached the place unobserved.
A horseman came riding slowly over the plains from the east.
He guided his jaded animal into the blazed roadway between the trees, and rode until within twenty feet of the house.
Here he stopped and sat motionless on his horse.
A moment later the front door of the house swung slowly open, and a tall, ruffianly-looking fellow came forth.
“What news, Jack?” asked the horseman.
“Nothing ’tickler, capen,” answered the fellow with surly respect. “Everything’s been movin’ at the old gait. How did you get along?”
“Made ten thousand dollars,” returned the other, as he dismounted from his horse. “How does that sound?”