"Beg pardon ?" he said.
"What ?" "I do not understand." "Your horse--where is your horse ?" "Oh, yes! Certainly--of course--my horse--how stupid of me!" The tone of the man's answer was one of half apology, and he was smiling whimsically now as if at his own predicament, as he continued.

"I have no horse.
Really, you know, I wouldn't know what to do with one if I had it." "You don't mean to say that you drifted all the way out here from Prescott on foot!" exclaimed the astonished cowboy.
The man on the ground looked up at the horseman, and in a droll tone that made the rider his friend, said, while he stretched his long legs painfully: "I like to walk.

You see I--ah--fancied it would be good for me, don't you know." The cowboy laughingly considered--trying, as he said afterward, to figure it out.

It was clear that this tall stranger was not in search of health, nor did he show any of the distinguishing marks of the tourist.
He certainly appeared to be a man of means.

He could not be looking for work.