A BIT OF STALKING It seemed as if the peaceful afternoons of Logan were ended forever, for the next day the scene of interruption was repeated under almost identical circumstances, save that the tree under which the shepherd sat was a little larger.

Larger also was the man who rode over the brow of the hill to the east.

The most durable cattle-pony would have staggered under the bulk of that rider, and therefore he rode a great, patient-eyed bay, with shoulders worthy of shoving against a work-collar; but the neck tapered down small behind a short head, and the legs, for all their breadth at shoulder and hip, slipped away to small hoofs, and ankles which sloped sharply to the rear, the sure sign of the fine saddle-horse.
Yet the strong horse was winded by the burden he bore, a mighty figure, deep-chested, amply shouldered, an ideal cavalier for the days when youths rode out in armour-plate to seek adventures and when men of fifty still lifted the lance to run a "friendly" course or two in the lists.
At sight of him Logan so far bestirred himself as to uncoil his long legs, rise, and stand with one shoulder propped against the tree.
"Evening, Mr.Drew," he called.
"Hello, Logan.

How's everything with you ?" He would have ridden on, but at Logan's reply he checked his horse to a slow walk.
"Busy.

Lots of company lately, Mr.Drew." "Company ?" "Yes, there's a young feller come along who says he wants to see you.
He's over there by the creek now, fishin' I think.