mp life promotes, it was not long
before the well-nigh overmastering curiosity of the outfit was
satisfied. They learned how the "little ol' blue-eyed sorrel top," as
Bill Ball had christened her, had vowed to wait faithfully till Circuit
could earn and save enough to make them a home, and how Circuit had
sworn to look into no woman's eyes till he could again look into hers.
Before many months had passed, Circuit's regular weekly letter to
Netty--regular when on the ranch--and the ceremonial purification and
personal decking that preceded it, had become for the Cross Canon
outfit a public ceremony all studiously observed. None were ever too
tired, none too grumpy, to wash, shave, and "slick up" of letter
nights, scrupulously as Moslems bathe their feet before approaching the
shrine of Mahomet and still as Moslems before their shrine all sat
about the bunk-room while Circuit wrote his letter and copied Netty's
last. Indeed, more than one well-started wild town orgy was stopped
short by one of the boys remarking: "Cut it, you kiyotes! Netty
wouldn't like it!"

And thus the months rolled on till they stacked up into years, but the
interchange of letters never ceased and the burden of Circuit's
buckskin bag grew heavier.

Twice Circuit ventured a financial _coup_, and both times
lost--invested his savings in horses, losing one band to Arizona
rustlers, and the other to Mancos Jim's Pah-Utes. After the last
experience he took no further chances and settled down to the slow but
sure plan of hoarding his wages.

Come the Fall of the eighth year of his exile from Netty, Circuit had
accumulated two thousand dollars, and it was unanimously voted by the
Cross Canon outfit, gathered in solemn conclave at Circuit's request,
that he might venture to return to claim her. And before the conclave
was adjourned, Lee Skeats, the chairman, remarked: "Circuit, ef Netty
shows airy sign o' balkin' at th' size o' your bank roll, you kin jes'
tell her that thar 's a bunch out here in Cross Canon that's been
lovin' her sort o' by proxy, that'll chip into your matrimonial play,
plumb double the size o' your stack, jest fo' th' hono' o' meetin' up
wi' her an' th' pleasure o' seein' their pardner hitched."

The season's work done and the herd turned loose on its Winter range on
the San Juan, the outfit decided to escort Circuit into Mancos and
there celebrate his coming nuptials. For them the one hundred and
seventy intervening miles of