y Bostil! I seen you with her out there in the rocks the mornin'
of the race. I seen what you did to her. An' I'm a-goin' to tell it!
... An' I'm a-goin' to ketch Lucy Bostil an' strip her naked, an' when
I git through with her I'll tie her on a hoss an' fire the grass! By
Gawd! I am!" Livid and wild, he breathed hard as he got up, facing
Slone malignantly.

"Crazy or not, here goes!" muttered Slone, grimly; and, leaping up,
with one blow he knocked Creech half out of the door, and then kicked
him the rest of the way. "Go on and have a fit!" cried Slone. "I'm
liable to kill you if you don't have one!"

Creech got up and ran down the path, turning twice on the way. Then he
disappeared among the trees.

Slone sat down. "Lost my temper again!" he said. "This has been a day.
Guess I'd better cool off right now an' stay here.... That poor devil!
Maybe he's not so crazy. But he's wilder than an Indian. I must warn
Lucy.... Lord! I wonder if Bostil could have held back repairin' that
boat, an' then cut it loose? I wonder? Yesterday I'd have sworn never.
To-day--"

Slone drove the conclusion of that thought out of his consciousness
before he wholly admitted it. Then he set to work cutting the long
grass from the wet and shady nooks under the bluff where the spring
made the ground rich. He carried an armful down to the corral. Nagger
was roaming around outside, picking grass for himself. Wildfire snorted
as always when he saw Slone, and Slone as always, when time permitted,
tried to coax the stallion to him. He had never succeeded, nor did he
this time. When he left the bundle of grass on the ground and went
outside Wildfire readily came for it.

"You're that tame, anyhow, you hungry red devil," said Slone,
jealously. Wildfire would take a bunch of grass from Lucy Bostil's
hand. Slone's feelings had undergone some reaction, though he still
loved the horse. But it was love mixed with bitterness. More than ever
he made up his mind that Lucy should have Wildfire. Then he walked
around his place, planning the work he meant to start at once.

Several days slipped by with Slone scarcely realizing how they flew.
Unaccustomed labor tired him so that he went to bed early and slept
like a log. If it had not been for the ever-present worry and suspense
and longing, in regard to Lucy, he would have been happier than ever he
could remember. Almost at once he had become attached to his little
home, and the more he labored to make it pr