As Lee Bryant reined his horse to a stop before the small ranch house, a man seated on a stool just within the open doorway rose and came out to join him.

He was a man of thin, stooped body; his sandy hair streaked with gray formed a fringe about his bald crown; and on his lined, sunburnt face there rested a shadow of worry that appeared to be habitual.

Bryant dismounted and shook hands with the ranchman.
"Well, how are you making it, Mr.Stevenson ?" he greeted.

"As I promised if I should be riding by this way again, I've stopped to say 'howdy.' Doesn't seem a month has passed since I stayed over night with you?
How's Mrs.Stevenson?
Hope you're both well." "Just feeling fair, just fair.

Glad you stopped, Bryant," was the answer.