"Then you aren't a stranger here?" asked Bud.
"Well, I been here a few days, that's all. I was Mr. Barter's foreman up to the time he quit, and sold out, so he told me. He asked me to stay here and turn the place over to the new owner. Merkel—yes, that's the name. I was away when the deal went through."
"I have the papers here," said Bud, reaching for the documents in his pocket.
"'Tain't necessary. I'll take your word for it, my boy. And now that you're in charge I'm going to vamoose. I've had full and plenty."
He struggled to his feet, plainly showing how weak he was, swayed unsteadily for a moment and then staggered to a bench on the shady side of the bunk house not far from the corral.
"If I could have another nip of whatever that was you gave me—" he murmured.
Bud gave him the remainder of the ammonia and it brought a tinge of color to the tanned and leathery cheeks of the puncher.
"I guess I can light out now," he went on. "Have you seen my pony—oh,
I forgot—he's dead. Well——"
He looked at the untenanted corral and then to the bunch of tethered animals the outfit from Diamond X had brought with them.
"Look here!" exclaimed Bud. "Do you mind telling us what happened? We have heard strange stories about this ranch and don't know whether or not to believe them. We found you stretched out and——"