"A day in the saddle seems a long while," said Noel Urner.
"And we have four more days to follow," smiled Allen. "I was afraid it would tire you."
"Oh, I am all right yet, Allen. But look, what is that ahead, a building?"
"That's the crossroads hotel. Come, we have less than a mile more to go."
The sight of the rude building ahead raised Noel Urner's spirits. Off he went on a gallop, with Allen close at his heels. In ten minutes they drew up at the rude horse block and dismounted.
Old Daddy Wampole, then a well-know character throughout Idaho, came out on the porch of his ranch to greet them.
"Back ag'in, hey?" he called out to Allen. "Wall, thar ain't no new mail in sense ye war here afore."
"I know that, Daddy," replied the young man. "I didn't come for the mail, exactly. My friend and I are bound for the railroad station."
"Goin' ter San Francisco?"
"Yes; we want to stop here to-night."
"Ye air welcome ter do thet," and Daddy Wampole gave Noel a friendly nod.
The young man was introduced and all three
