But for Miriam, and the villainy of the man who had stolen her from him, he might have been still in England, might--who knows ?--in better circumstances, have met the girl at Brown's Buildings.
He would have been free to love her and to tell her so.
With a shake of the head, and a setting of the lips, he tramped on, every step giving him pain; and at last he neared the town.
It was a small place, with a few scattered 'dobe houses, one of which bore the sign indicating an inn.

Outside the door, with their cigarettes between their lips, their whips lying beside them, sat and lounged a group of cowboys.

Derrick had made the acquaintance of many of their kind since the night on which he had checkmated the specimens in the circus, and he had got on very well with them; for your cowboy is an acute person, and knows a "man" when he sees him.

As Derrick limped up they stopped talking, and eyed him with narrowed lids.
Derrick saluted them in Spanish fashion, for he had picked up a few phrases, and one of the men made way for him on the rude bench, greeted him with a nod, and slid a mug and a bottle of wine towards him.

Derrick drank--it was like nectar in his parched mouth--and the cowboy, with a grunt of approval, tendered him a cigarette and inquired curtly, but not unkindly, where he was going.