at the Ford."

"You'll ride the King again?"

"Reckon so. But Bostil is kickin' because I'm heavier than I was,"
replied the rider.

"You're skin an' bones at thet."

"Mebbe you'll need to work a little off, Van. Some one said Creech's
Blue Roan was comin' fast this year."

"Bill, your mind ain't operatin'," replied Van, scornfully. "Didn't I
beat Creech's hosses last year without the King turnin' a hair?"

"Not if I recollect, you didn't. The Blue Roan wasn't runnin'."

Then they argued, after the manner of friendly riders, but all earnest,
an eloquent in their convictions. The prevailing opinion was that
Creech's horse had a chance, depending upon condition and luck.

The argument shifted upon the arrival of two new-comers, leading
mustangs and apparently talking trade. It was manifest that these
arrivals were not loath to get the opinions of others.

"Van, there's a hoss!" exclaimed one.

"No, he ain't," replied Van.

And that diverse judgment appeared to be characteristic throughout. The
strange thing was that Macomber, the rancher, had already traded his
mustang and money to boot for the sorrel. The deal, whether wise or
not, had been consummated. Brackton came out with Red Wilson, and they
had to have their say.

"Wal, durned if some of you fellers ain't kind an' complimentary,"
remarked Macomber, scratching his head. "But then every feller can't
have hoss sense." Then, looking up to see Lucy Bostil coming along the
road, he brightened as if with inspiration.

Lucy was at home among them, and the shy eyes of the younger riders,
especially Van, were nothing if not revealing. She greeted them with a
bright smile, and when she saw Brackton she burst out:

"Oh, Mr. Brackton, the wagon's in, and did my box come? ... To-day's my
birthday."

"'Deed it did, Lucy; an' many more happy ones to you!" he replied,
delighted in her delight. "But it's too heavy for you. I'll send it
up--or mebbe one of the boys--"

Five riders in unison eagerly offered their services and looked as if
each had spoken first. Then Macomber addressed her:

"Miss Lucy, you see this here sorrel?"

"Ah! the same lazy crowd and the same old story--a horse trade!"
laughed Lucy.

"There's a little difference of opinion," said Macomber, politely
indicating the riders. "Now, Miss Lucy, we-all know you're a judge of a
hoss. And as good as thet you tell the truth. Thet ain't in some
hoss-traders I know.... What do you think of this mu