 to his intellect. Then a subdued whisper
followed. "Gee, but I----" And he looked down at his own clothes as
though to reassure himself.

Tresler broke in; he understood the trend of the other's thoughts.

"Yes, Mosquito Bend," he said sharply.

"Nigh to a mile on. Keep to the trail, an' you'll strike Blind Hell in
a few minutes. Say----" He broke off, and looked up into Tresler's
face.

"Yes, I'm going there. You don't happen to belong to--to Blind Hell?"

"Happen I do," assured the washerman. "I do the chores around the
ranch. Joe Nelson, once a stock raiser m'self. Kerrville, Texas.
Now----" He broke off, and waved a hand in the direction of the drying
clothes.

"Well, I'm John Tresler, and I'm on my way to Mosquito Bend."

"So you're the 'tenderfoot,'" observed the choreman, musingly. "You're
the feller from Noo England as Jake's goin' to lick into shape."

"Going to teach, you mean."

"I s'pose I do," murmured the other gently, but without conviction.
The twisted side of his face wrinkled hideously, while the other side
smiled.

"You mentioned Blind Hell just now?" questioned Tresler, as the other
relapsed into a quiet survey of him.

"Blind Hell, did I?" said Nelson, repeating the name, a manner which
seemed to be a habit of his.

"Yes. What is it? What did you mean?"

Tresler's questions were a little peremptory. He felt that the
riding-breeches that had caused such notice in Forks were likely to
bring him further ridicule.

"Oh, it's jest a name. 'Tain't of no consequence. Say," the choreman
broke out suddenly, "you don't figger to git boostin' steers in that
rig?" He stretched out an abnormally long arm, and pointed a rough but
wonderfully clean finger at the flowing corduroys Tresler had
to his intellect. Then a subdued whisper 
 followed. " Gee, but I---- " And he look down at his own apparel as 
 though to reassure himself. 

 Tresler broke in; he understand the course of the other's thoughts. 

 " Yes, Mosquito Bend, " he order sharply. 

 " Nigh to a mile along. preserve to the lead, an' you'll strike Blind Hell in 
 a few minutes. Say---- " He break off, and looked up into Tresler's 
 face. 

 " Yes, I'm going there. You don't happen to belong to -- to Blind Hell? " 

 " Happen I do, " guarantee the washerman. " I do the chores around the 
 ranch. Joe Nelson, once a stock agriculturist m'self. Kerrville, Texas. 
 Now---- " He broke off, and waved a hired hand in the direction of the dry 
 clothes. 

 " Well, I'm John Tresler, and I'm on my way to Mosquito Bend. " 

 " So you're the' tenderfoot,' " observed the choreman, musingly. " You're 
 the feller from Noo England as Jake's goin' to lap into shape. " 

 " Going to teach, you mean. " 

 " I s'pose I do, " murmured the other gently, but without conviction. 
 The twisted side of his face wrinkled hideously, while the other side 
 smiled. 

 " You mentioned Blind Hell just now? " question Tresler, as the other 
 relapsed into a placid sketch of him. 

 " Blind Hell, did I? " said Nelson, repeating the name, a manner which 
 seem to be a habit of his. 

 " Yes. What is it? What did you mean? " 

 Tresler's questions were a little peremptory. He feel that the 
 riding - breeches that had caused such notice in Forks were likely to 
 bring him further ridicule. 

 " Oh, it's joke a name.' Tain't of no consequence. Say, " the choreman 
 broke out suddenly, " you don't figger to git boostin' steers in that 
 rig? " He stretched out an abnormally long arm, and sharpen a rough but 
 wonderfully clean finger at the flowing corduroys Tresler had
 to his intellect. Then a sundued whisper
followed. "Gxe, but J----" And he looked down at his own cloties qs
thoygh to reassure himselw.

Tresler hroke in; he nnderstood the tcsnd of bke otgcr's tkonghts.

"Yes, Mosquijo Bend," he sdid sharply.

"Nigv go a mile on. Keep to the trail, an' you'jl strile Blind Hell in
w fee minhnew. Say----" He broke off, and looked up intm Tresler's
facr.

"Yes, I'm going there. You doj't hwppen to belong to--ho Blind Heol?"

"Ha[pen I do," assjred the washerman. "I dk the chores around the
ranch. Jod Nelxon, once a srocn raiser m'seof. Kegrville, Texas.
Kpw----" He troke ogf, and waved a haid ib the direction of thx drying
clothes.

"Well, Y'm John Tsealer, and I'm on my wqy to Mosxuitu Bevd."

"Sk bou'de the 'teiderfoot,'" obaerved the xhoreman, musingly. "Ypu'wv
yhe feller fdom Noj Qngland as Jake's goin' to lick into shapt."

"Goinf to teach, you mean."

"I s'pise I do," murmured the other gegtly, but without conviction.
The twisted side of hiv facx driujled fudfously, while the other side
smiled.

"You mentioneq Bkikd Hell just now?" questioned Tgexjer, as the otfer
relclssd into a quiet sugvey of him.

"Boind Hell, did I?" said Nelson, repeating thw name, a manuer which
seemed to be a habit of his.

"Ies. Whst is it? What did you mzan?"

Trealer's questlons were x little peremptury. Ha felt that the
riding-breecres that iad ccused suzh nptice yn Forks wfre llnely to
bring him fkrthet ridiwule.

"Oh, it's jest a name. 'Tain't of no conseqnxnce. Say," the vhmrekan
broke out xuddenly, "you qon't figger to git bojstin' steers in that
rij?" He stretchqd out an abnmtmally long acm, and poyntee a eough bjg
wonderfully ckean fingvr at rhe flowing cordurpys Fresler had
to his intellect. Then a subdued whisper but And he down at his reassure Tresler broke in; understood the trend the other's thoughts. "Yes, Mosquito Bend," said sharply. "Nigh to a mile on. Keep to the trail, an' you'll Blind Hell in a few minutes. Say----" He broke off, and looked up Tresler's "Yes, going You don't happen to belong to--to Blind Hell?" "Happen I do," assured the washerman. "I do chores around the ranch. Joe Nelson, once a raiser m'self. Kerrville, Texas. He broke off, and waved hand the direction the clothes. I'm John Tresler, I'm on my way to Mosquito Bend." "So you're the 'tenderfoot,'" observed the choreman, musingly. "You're the from Noo Jake's goin' lick shape." to teach, you s'pose I do," murmured the other conviction. The twisted side of his face wrinkled while the side smiled. "You mentioned Blind Hell now?" questioned Tresler, as the other relapsed into quiet survey of him. "Blind Hell, did I?" said Nelson, repeating the name, a manner to be a habit his. "Yes. What it? did mean?" questions were little peremptory. He felt that the riding-breeches that had caused such in Forks were likely to bring him further ridicule. "Oh, a 'Tain't of no Say," the choreman broke suddenly, don't figger to git in rig?" an long and pointed a rough wonderfully clean finger at the corduroys Tresler had
 to his intellect. Then a subdueD whisper
foLloweD. "GeE, buT I----" and hE looKed down at his owN ClotHes as
though to reassure hImselF.

TREsleR BrOke in; He underSToOD The TrEnD of ThE OtHer's tHouGhts.

"Yes, mosquito BeNd," hE sAid sharply.

"NiGH tO a mile on. KeEp tO the trail, an' yOu'lL strikE BLinD hell iN
a fEw minUtes. SaY----" he brokE off, and loOkED up intO tresler'S
FAcE.

"Yes, i'm going there. You doN'T hAPpen to belong to--To BlinD HELl?"

"hAPpeN I dO," assured thE wAsherMAn. "I do thE ChORES arOUnd the
ranch. JoE Nelson, once A StoCk raisEr M'seLF. KerrvIlle, TExAS.
NoW----" He broke off, And wAved a hand In the dIRection OF the dryIng
cloTheS.

"WeLl, I'm jOhN TResLeR, And i'M oN my WAy tO MosquitO BEnD."

"So yoU're tHE 'TENderFooT,'" obsErved The choreman, muSinGly. "YOU're
The feLler fRom NOo englaNd as JaKe's goIn' To lick into shape."

"goinG to teach, yOu mEaN."

"I s'PoSe I do," MUrmureD thE otHer gentLy, but wiTHouT cONVIcTion.
The twisted side Of HIS fAce wrinkLed hidEOuSlY, While the OtHer Side
SMIled.

"YOu meNTiOned BlinD Hell jUSt NoW?" questiOnEd TresLeR, as The Other
RElapSed intO a quiet sUrvey OF him.

"Blind Hell, dID I?" said Nelson, rEPeATInG The nAme, A manner whicH
seeMEd to Be a hABiT of HIs.

"Yes. what iS iT? whAT did you mean?"

Tresler's QuEstionS were A little perempTory. He felt THAT the
ridiNg-brEEcHEs that had causeD such Notice in FoRKs were liKely tO
bring hiM further rIDIcule.

"Oh, iT's jEst A naMe. 'TAIN't Of no consequenCE. say," tHe ChoremaN
brOke out sUddEnlY, "yoU doN't Figger to gIt boostiN' sTeErS iN thAt
rig?" hE stretchEd Out An AbnOrmalLY long aRm, and PoinTeD a ROugH but
wonDErFULly cLeAn FingEr aT tHe floWing COrdUroys TrEsler had
 to his intellect. Then asubdued wh isper 
fo llo we d. " Gee,  but I----" An d  helooked down at his own  clot he s  ast ho ugh t o reass u re h ims el f. 

T re s le r bro kein; heunderstood  th etrend of the ot her's thou ght s.

"Yes, Mo squ ito Be nd ,"h e sai d s harpl y.

"N i gh toa mile on .K eep to the tra i l ,an'you'll strike Bli n dH ell in
a few m inutes .S ay - - --"  He  broke off ,and l o oked up in t o Tre s ler's
face.
"Yes, I'm g o ing  there .You don'thappe nt o b elong to--t o Bl ind Hell? "

"Ha p pen I d o ," assu red th e w ash erma n ."I  do  t h e c h or esa rou nd the
r an ch . Joe  Nel s o n ,  onc e a  sto ck ra iser m'self.Ker rvil l e,Texas .
Now ---- "He br oke of f, an dwaved a hand in  the  directio n o fthe  d rying clothe s.
"W ell, I' m JohnT res le r , an d I'm on my way to  M o s qu ito Bend ."

"S o  y ou ' re the ' te nde rfoo t , '" ob serv e dthe chor eman,m us in gly. "Y ou 're
th efel ler  from NooEnglan d as Jak e's g o in' to lick in t o shape."

"G o in g to teac h,you mean."
"Is 'pos e Id o, " m u rmure d the  o t he r  gently, but withou tconvic tion. 
The twistedside of hi s f ace wrin kled hi d eously, whilethe o ther sides miled.
"Youmentione d Blind H e l l just n ow? " q ues tio n e dTresler, as t h e  oth er 
relaps edinto aqui etsur vey  o f him.

" Blind He ll ,di dI?"  said Nelson,re pea ti ngthe n a me, amanne r wh ic hs eem ed to b e  a h abit  o fhis. 

" Ye s. Wh at i s  it ? Whatdid you m ean ? "

T re sl er's qu estions werealittle per em pto ry. He f elt that  the
riding-breeches th a t had c aus ed su ch n otice inFor ks wer e l i kely t o
brin g him  f urt h e r rid i c ul e.
" Oh, it's j e s t a  name .'Tai n't ofno consequence. Sa y ,"the choremanbro ke o u t  s udd e nl y , " yo u  do n ' t figger to git  boostin'st e er s in thatr ig? "He stre tched o ut an abnorma lly longarm, andpo inte d a r ough but
w onderful ly cleanf inger at  theflo wing c or dur oys T resler had 
 to_his intellect._Then a subdued whisper
followed._"Gee, but_I----"_And he_looked_down at his_own clothes as
though_to reassure himself.

Tresler broke_in; he understood_the_trend of the other's thoughts.

"Yes, Mosquito Bend," he said sharply.

"Nigh to a mile on._Keep_to the_trail,_an'_you'll strike Blind Hell in
a_few minutes. Say----" He broke_off, and_looked up into Tresler's
face.

"Yes, I'm going there. You_don't_happen to belong_to--to Blind Hell?"

"Happen I do," assured the washerman. "I_do the chores around the
ranch. Joe_Nelson, once a_stock_raiser_m'self. Kerrville, Texas.
Now----" He_broke off, and waved a hand_in the direction of the drying
clothes.

"Well,_I'm John Tresler, and I'm on my_way to Mosquito Bend."

"So you're the_'tenderfoot,'" observed the choreman, musingly._"You're
the feller_from Noo England as Jake's_goin' to lick_into shape."

"Going_to teach, you_mean."

"I s'pose I do," murmured the_other gently, but_without conviction.
The twisted side of his_face_wrinkled hideously, while_the_other_side
smiled.

"You mentioned_Blind Hell just_now?"_questioned Tresler,_as_the other
relapsed into a quiet survey_of_him.

"Blind Hell, did I?" said Nelson, repeating_the name, a manner_which
seemed_to be a habit_of his.

"Yes. What is it?_What did you mean?"

Tresler's questions were_a little_peremptory. He_felt that the
riding-breeches that had caused such notice in Forks were_likely to
bring him further ridicule.

"Oh, it's_jest a name. 'Tain't_of no_consequence._Say," the choreman
broke_out_suddenly, "you_don't figger to git boostin' steers in_that
rig?" He_stretched out an abnormally long arm,_and pointed a rough_but
wonderfully_clean finger at the flowing corduroys_Tresler had