Part 15 (1/2)

Charlie Bryant understood. The man was talking to his horse. Had he needed evidence it came forthwith, for, with a rush, at a headlong gallop, a horseman dashed from amid the bushes and drew up with a jolt almost on top of him.

”Charlie!”

”Bill! Good old--Bill!”

The greetings came simultaneously. The next instant Big Brother Bill flung out of the saddle, and stood wringing his brother's hand with great force.

”Gee! It's good to see you, Charlie,” he cried joyously.

”Good? Why, it's great, and--and I took you for one of the d.a.m.ned p'lice.”

Charlie's face was wreathed in such a smile of welcome and relief, that all Big Brother Bill's doubts in that direction were flung pell-mell to the winds.

Charlie caught something of the other's beaming enthusiasm.

”Why, I've been expecting you for days, old boy. Thought maybe you'd changed your mind. Say, where's your baggage? Coming on behind? You haven't lost it?” he added anxiously, as Bill's face suddenly fell.

”I forgot. Say, was there ever such a tom-fool trick?” Bill cried, with a great laugh at his own folly. ”Why, I left it checked at Moosemin--without instructions.”

Charlie's smiling eyes suddenly widened.

”Moosemin? What in the name of all that's----?”

”I'll have to tell you about it later,” Bill broke in hastily. ”I've had one awful journey. If it hadn't been for a feller I met on the road I don't know when I'd have landed here.”

Charlie nodded, and the smile died out of his eyes.

”I saw him. You certainly were traveling in good company.”

Bill nodded, towering like some good-natured St. Bernard over a mild-eyed water spaniel.

”Good company's a specialty with me. But I didn't come alongside any of it, since I set out to make here 'cross country from Moosemin on the advice of the only bigger fool than myself I've ever met, until I ran into him. Say, Charlie, I s'pose its necessary to have a deal of gra.s.s around to run a ranch on?”

Charlie's eyes lit with the warmest amus.e.m.e.nt. This great brother of his was the brightest landmark in his memory of the world he had said good-bye to years ago.

”You can't graze cattle on bare ground,” he replied watchfully. ”Why?”

Bill's shoulders went up to the accompaniment of a chuckle.

”Nothing--only I hate gra.s.s. I seem to have gone over as much gra.s.s in the last week as a boarding-house spring lamb. But for that feller, I surely guess I'd still be chasing over it, like those 'strays' he spends his life rounding-up.”

A quick look of inquiry flashed in the rancher's eyes.

”Strays?” he inquired.

Bill nodded gravely. ”Yes, he's something in the ranching line. Rounds up 'strays,' and herds 'em to their right homes. His name's Fyles--Stanley Fyles.”

Just for an instant Charlie's face struggled with the more bitter feelings Fyles's name inspired. Then he gave way to the appeal of a sort of desperate humor, and broke into an uncontrolled fit of laughter.

Bill looked on wondering, his great blue eyes widely open. Then he caught the infection, and began to laugh, too, but without knowing why.