episode, finding in it something that stirred his blood immensely.

After the trap had swept round a curve out of sight he disappeared in
the mesquite and bear-grass, presently returning with the roan that
had been ridden by the escaped convict.

"Whoever would suppose she was the sister of that scurvy scalawag with
jailbird branded all over his hulking hide? He ain't fit to wipe her
little feet on. She's as fine as silk. Think of her going through what
she is to save that coyote, and him as crooked as a dog's hind leg.
There ain't any limit to what a good woman will do for a man when she
thinks he's got a claim on her, more especially if he's a ruffian."

With this bit of philosophic observation he rolled a cigarette and lit
it.

"Him fall into bad company and be led away?" he added in disgust.
"There ain't any worse than him. But he'll work her to the limit
before she finds it out."

Leisurely he swung to the saddle and rode down into the valley of the
San Xavier, which rolled away from his feet in numberless tawny waves
of unfeatured foot-hills and mesas and washes. Almost as far as the
eye could see there stretched a sea of hilltops bathed in sun. Only on
the west were they bounded, by the irregular saw-toothed edge of the
Frenchman Hills, silhouetted against an incomparable blue. For a
stretch of many miles the side of the range was painted scarlet by
millions of poppies splashed broadcast.

"Nature's gone to flower-gardening for fair on the mountains,"