was
driving straight at me. I must have been confused in my idea of where the
Little River was. Anyway, before I had time to think about it I realized I
was directly in their path and with a very small advantage. I could escape
neither to right nor left, for the wings of the running flock were wide,
and all I could do was to run my pony as hard as he could go.

"He seemed to know the danger; all cow ponies do, I guess, for I never saw
him travel like that in all my life; he stretched so flat along the
ground that it almost seemed as though I could reach down and touch it
with my hand. You know what such speed as that is at night with the
gopher-holes and other ankle-breakers! Well, we took the chance, and Billy
actually drew away from the sheep, panicky as they were.

"But I couldn't gain enough to dare to turn to right or left, and I had
just about given up hope because the trees were ahead, when I saw the
flash and heard the report of your gun. Thank God it was you, Bud. I've
never known you to be a coward or to fail in any situation. I can't say
how grateful I am for what you have done to-night."

"I assure you I didn't do it, Julie; it was that man who got sick and left
us. He's disappeared now."

"Who was he? One of the Bar T punchers?"

"No, it was that fellow, Caldwell. Perhaps you don't remember him--he came
to the Bar T for supper the same night I did."

"Yes, I remember him," said Julie in a tone out of which all the impetuous
warmth had gone. Suddenly in this strange situation she found herself face
to face with another chapter in the mystery that baffled her.

"Well, he saved my life to-night, and, though I can't say I admire the
fellow very much, I am mighty grateful to him."

"It is strange you two should be together out here when your sheep were
somewhere else," hazarded Juliet, looking full at Larkin and expecting
some action or word to betray his fear of her suspicions.

"Not at all strange when you know the circumstances," he replied. "Just
listen to this tale of adventure. But first I think we had better start
walking toward the Bar T ranch house. We ought to meet some of the
cowboys. Br-r--it's cold!" and Bud shivered in the piercing chill of the
spring night.

To the plainsman walking is the most refined form of punishment. Your real
cowboy slouches miserably along in his tight-fitting, uncomfortable
high-heeled boots, looking about as much in his element as a stranded
whale. In cowboy p