Six months or more ago I came West, and have knocked about from Wyoming southwest to the border. I tried to find congenial work, but nothing came my way. To tell you frankly, Mr. Belding, I suppose I didn't much care. I believe, though, that all the time I didn't know what I wanted. I've learned--well, just lately--"
"What do you want to do?" interposed Belding.
"I want a man's job. I want to do things with my hands. I want action. I want to be outdoors."
Belding nodded his head as if he understood that, and he began to speak again, cut something short, then went on, hesitatingly:
"Gale--you could go home again--to the old man-- it'd be all right?"
"Mr. Belding, there's nothing shady in my past. The governor would be glad to have me home. That's the only consolation I've got.
But I'm not going. I'm broke. I won't be a tramp. And it's up to me to do something."
"How'd you like to be a border ranger?" asked Belding, laying a hand on ****'s knee. "Part of my job here is United States Inspector of Immigration. I've got that boundary line to patrol--to keep out Chinks and Japs. This revolution has added complications, and I'm looking for smugglers and raiders here any day. You'll not be hired by the U. S. You'll simply be my ranger, same as Laddy and Jim, who have promised to work for me. I'll pay you well, give you a room here, furnish everything down to guns, and the finest horse you ever saw in your life. Your job won't be safe and healthy, sometimes, but it'll be a man's job--don't mistake me!
You can gamble on having things to do outdoors. Now, what do you say?"
"I accpet, and I thank you--I can't say how much," replied Gale, earnestly.
"Good! That's settled. Let's go out and tell Laddy and Jim."
Both boys expressed satisfaction at the turn of affairs, and then with Belding they set out to take Gale around the ranch. The house and several outbuildings were constructed of adobe, which, according to Belding, retained the summer heat on into winter, and the winter cold on into summer. These gray-red mud habitations were hideous to look at, and this fact, perhaps, made their really comfortable interiors more vividly a contrast. The wide grounds were covered with luxuriant grass and flowers and different kinds of trees. Gale's interest led him to ask about fig trees and pomegranates, and especially about a beautiful specimen that Belding called palo verde.
Belding explained that the luxuriance of this desert place was owing to a few springs and the dammed-up waters of the Rio Forlorn.
Before he had come to the oasis it had been inhabited by a Papago Indian tribe and a few peon families. The oasis lay in an arroyo a mile wide, and sloped southwest for some ten miles or more.
The river went dry most of the year; but enough water was stored in flood season to irrigate the gardens and alfalfa fields.
"I've got one never-failing spring on my place," said Belding. "Fine, sweet water! You know what that means in the desert. I like this oasis. The longer I live here the better I like it. There's not a spot in southern Arizona that'll compare with this valley for water or grass or wood. It's beautiful and healthy. Forlorn and lonely, yes, especially for women like my wife and Nell; but I like it....And between you and me, boys, I've got something up my sleeve. There's gold dust in the arroyos, and there's mineral up in the mountains.
If we only had water! This hamlet has steadily grown since I took up a station here. Why, Casita is no place beside Forlorn River.
Pretty soon the Southern Pacific will shoot a railroad branch out here. There are possibilities, and I want you boys to stay with me and get in on the ground floor. I wish this rebel war was over....Well, here are the corrals and the fields. Gale, take a look at that bunch of horses!"
Belding's last remark was made as he led his companions out of shady gardens into the open. Gale saw an adobe shed and a huge pen fenced by strangely twisted and contorted branches or trunks of mesquite, and, beyond these, wide, flat fields, green--a dark, rich green--and dotted with beautiful horses. There were whites and blacks, and bays and grays. In his admiration Gale searched his memory to see if he could remember the like of these magnificent animals, and had to admit that the only ones he could compare with them were the Arabian steeds.
"Every ranch loves his horses," said Belding. "When I was in the Panhandle I had some fine stock. But these are Mexican. They came from Durango, where they were bred. Mexican horses are the finest in the world, bar none."
"Shore I reckon I savvy why you don't sleep nights," drawled Laddy.
"I see a Greaser out there--no, it's an Indian."
"That's my Papago herdsman. I keep watch over the horses now day and night. Lord, how I'd hate to have Rojas or Salazar--any of those bandit rebels--find my horses!...Gale, can you ride?"
**** modestly replied that he could, according to the Eastern idea of horsemanship.
"You don't need to be half horse to ride one of that bunch. But over there in the other field I've iron-jawed broncos I wouldn't want you to tackle--except to see the fun. I've an outlaw I'll gamble even Laddy can't ride."
"So. How much'll you gamble?" asked Laddy, instantly.
The ringing of a bell, which Belding said was a call to supper, turned the men back toward the house. Facing that way, Gale saw dark, beetling ridges rising from the oasis and leading up to bare, black mountains. He had heard Belding call them No Name Mountains, and somehow the appellation suited those lofty, mysterious, frowning peaks.
