soles, iron tips and heels. Now he
straightened up.

"Did Nelson say why he was late?" he went on abruptly.

"No. And I didn't ask him."

"Ah, knew it, I s'pose. Drunk?"

"No."

Tresler felt that the lie was a justifiable one.

"Then what the devil kept the little swine?"

Jake's brows suddenly lowered, and the savage tone was no less than
the coarse brutality of his words. The other's coolness grew more
marked.

"That was none of my concern. He'd delivered the letter, and it was
only left for me to hurry him home."

"I'll swear he was loafin' around the saloon all day. Say, I guess
I'll see him later."

Tresler shrugged and turned away. He wanted to tell this man what he
thought of him. He felt positively murderous toward him. He had never
met anybody who could so rouse him. Sooner or later a crisis would
come, in spite of his reassurances to Diane, and then--Jake watched
him go. Then he turned again to the contemplation of his great boots,
and muttered to himself.

"It won't be for long--no, not for long. But not yet. Ther's too much
hangin' to it----" He broke off, and his fierce eyes looked after the
retreating man.

The unconscious object of these attentions meanwhile reached the
bunkhouse. Breakfast was well on, and he had to take his pannikin and
plate round to Teddy's cookhouse to get his food. "Slushy," as the
cook was familiarly called, dipped him out a liberal measure of pork
and beans, and handed him half a loaf of new-made bread. Jinks was no
niggard, and Tresler was always welcome to all he needed.

"Goin' to ride?" the youth demanded, as he filled the pannikin with
tea.

"Why, of course." Tresler had almost forgotten the change of work that
had been set out for the day. His face brightened now as the cook
reminded him of it. "Wouldn't miss it for a lot. That mare of mine has
given me a taste for that sort of thing."

"Taste!" Teddy exclaimed, with a scornful wave of his dipper. "Belly
full, I tho't, mebbe." He turned to his stove and shook the ashes
down. "Say," he went on, over his shoulder, "guess I'm bakin' hash in
mine. Ther' ain't so much glory, but ther's a heap more comfort to
it."

Tresler passed out smiling at the youth's ample philosophy. But the
smile died out almost on the instant. A half-smothered cry reached him
from somewhere in the direction of the barn. He stood for an instant
with his brows knitted.

The next, and his movements became almost electrical.

Now th