the ten miles of rock and cactus between him and home,
and I climbed up on Buckles. Joel screamed and swore something fearful.
But I didn't look back. And Peg, you know--maybe you don't know--but
Peg is fond of me, and he followed me, straddling his bridle all the
way in. I dropped Joel's clothes down the ridge a ways, right in the
trail, so he can't miss them. And that's all.... Dad, was it--was it
very bad?"

"Bad! Why, you ought to have thrown your gun on him. At least bounced a
rock off his head! But say, Lucy, after all, maybe you've done enough.
I guess you never thought of it."

"What?"

"The sun is hot to-day. Hot! An' if Joel's as crazy an' mad as you say
he'll not have sense enough to stay in the water or shade till the
sun's gone down. An' if he tackles that ten miles before he'll sunburn
himself within an inch of his life."

"Sunburn? Oh, Dad! I'm sorry," burst out Lucy, contritely. "I never
thought of that. I'll ride back with his clothes."

"You will not," said Bostil.

"Let me send some one, then," she entreated.

"Girl, haven't you the nerve to play your own game? Let Creech get his
lesson. He deserves it.... An' now, Lucy, I've two more questions to
ask."

"Only two?" she queried, archly. "Dad, don't scold me with questions."

"What shall I say to Wetherby for good an' all?"

Lucy's eyes shaded dreamily, and she seemed to look beyond the room,
out over the ranges.

"Tell him to go back to Durango and forget the foolish girl who can
care only for the desert and a horse."

"All right. That is straight talk, like an Indian's. An' now the last
question--what do you want for a birthday present?"

"Oh, of course," she cried, gleefully clapping her hands. "I'd
forgotten that. I'm eighteen!"

"You get that old chest of your mother's. But what from me?"

"Dad, will you give me anything I ask for?"

"Yes, my girl."

"Anything--any HORSE?"

Lucy knew his weakness, for she had inherited it.

"Sure; any horse but the King."

"How about Sarchedon?"

"Why, Lucy, what'd you do with that big black devil? He's too high.
Seventeen hands high! You couldn't mount him."

"Pooh! Sarch KNEELS for me."

"Child, listen to reason. Sarch would pull your arms out of their
sockets."

"He has got an iron jaw," agreed Lucy. "Well, then--how about Dusty
Ben?" She was tormenting her father and she did it with glee.

"No--not Ben. He's the faithfulest hoss I ever owned. It wouldn't be
fair to part with