ractive
niece, he, Skinny Rawlins, would personally be overjoyed to reverse the
order and give his entire income, adding a bonus as well, for the
privilege of continuing indefinitely and of his own choice the more than
pleasant employment. Yet this was the literal truth, so quickly had his
susceptible heart yielded to the charms of the girl. But he dared not
try to tell her. He knew the words would not come and if they did he
would probably choke on them and she, not believing the truth, would
detest him. Skinny had heard of men who courted girls of wealth to win
their money and with sincere contempt he despised these degenerates of
his sex. Now, suddenly, he felt that he himself was in their class. The
thought made him sick, actually caused his stomach to quiver with a sort
of nausea.

"Skinny Rawlins," Carolyn June said sternly, stopping and looking
straight at the confused and mentally tortured cowboy, "tell me--and
don't lie--what you meant when you said to go with me was 'your job!'"

Skinny raised his eyes; in them was piteous appeal.

"I meant--I--" he hesitated.

"Tell me the truth," she ordered relentlessly, "or I'll--I'll--do
something awful!"

"I meant it was my job--" suddenly inspired, he blurted out, "to ride
Old Pie Face. He's--he's dangerous and has to be rode every so often to
keep him from getting worse and to-day's the day to ride him!"

"Skinny," Carolyn June spoke gently, "I feel sorry for you. I want to
like you and I'm disappointed. It breaks my heart to say it but you are
a liar--you're just a common double dashed liar--like Uncle Josiah was
when he sent that telegram saying there was smallpox at the Quarter
Circle KT--"

"Am I?" Skinny asked humbly.

"You are," she retorted impatiently, "and you know it--"

"Do I?" as if dazed.

"You do, and did all the time--"

"Did I?" he felt like a parrot.

"You did!" Carolyn June snapped. "Good heavens," she continued, "why do
men think they have to lie to women? Common sense and experience ought
to teach them they can never fool them long--I hoped out here in the big
West I would find one man who wouldn't lie--"

"Th' Ramblin' Kid won't," Skinny said as if suddenly struck by a bright
thought, "--he wouldn't lie to you!"

Carolyn June laughed scornfully.

"Oh, yes he would," she declared, "all of them do--every last one of
the poor frail"--contemptuously--"turtles!"

"But th' Ramblin' Kid wouldn't," Skinny persisted; "he won't lie to
a