but the part of the broken
rope attached to his saddle was too short to reach it and it was
impossible to secure it in any other way. Chuck had returned the
Ramblin' Kid's rope to him yesterday when they were after the runaway
steers and it was now on his saddle. He lightly tossed the noose so that
it fell circling the object he sought. Gently flicking the rope toward
him he tightened the loop about the crown of the hat and drew it to the
edge of the quicksand. He picked up the hat, looked curiously at it,
remounted Captain Jack, paused a moment and gazed at the treacherous
surface beneath which the body of Old Blue was hidden and with a
savagely muttered something about "th' damned stuff!" whirled the little
stallion and rode rapidly in the direction from which he came.

As Captain Jack galloped along the lane the Ramblin' Kid looked at the
hat curiously, turning it first one way and then the other. With a
laugh he reached into his pocket and drew out the pink satin garter. An
expression of tenderness, followed by a look of deep humility that
quickly changed into savage anger, came into his eyes as he looked first
at the hat, soiled and dirty, and then at the dainty bit of elastic he
held in his hand.

"A swell pair of souvenirs," he said bitterly, "for an 'ign'rant,
savage, stupid brute' of a cow-puncher to be packin' around!"

Before reaching the barn the Ramblin' Kid dropped the garter again into
his pocket. Rounding the end of the shed he rode Captain Jack directly
up to Carolyn June. Dismounting, he left the little roan standing, not
troubling to drop the reins over the broncho's head, stepped toward the
girl and extended the hat, saying simply and without emotion.

"Here's your hat!"

There was no embarrassment now or humility in his eyes as he looked
steadily at Carolyn June. His expression was as cold as if the one to
whom he spoke was an utter stranger.

"I--" Carolyn June hesitated, "oh, I thank you! It was kind of you to
think about it and ride back--back--there," she involuntarily
shuddered when she thought of the upper crossing, "and get it!"

The simple, unexpected thoughtfulness of the deed touched her. It was
the natural, instinctive act of a gentleman. She had forgotten the hat.
He had not. As she looked at him she felt that, someway, she might have
known such a thing was exactly what he would do.

"You're welcome," he said quietly, starting to turn away.

A spirit of mischief suddenly flared