he ain't located yet; I dunno as he'd 'a' piloted her
home. Billy--that's what the kids named him--was born and raised here,
yuh see. I'll bet he's glad to get back--and the kids'll be plumb wild."

Rowdy did not answer; there seemed nothing in particular to say, and he
was wondering if he would see Miss Conroy before he left. She had not
eaten breakfast with the others; from their manner, he judged that
no one expected her to. He was not well informed upon the subject
of schoolma'ams, but he had a hazy impression that late rising was a
distinguishing characteristic--and he did not know how late. He
saddled leisurely, and packed his bed for the last time upon Chub. The
red-and-yellow Navajo blanket he folded tenderly, with an unconscious
smile for the service it had done, and laid it in its accustomed place
in the bed. Then, having no plausible excuse for going back to the
house, he mounted and rode away into the brilliant white world, watching
wistfully the house from the tail of his eye.

She might have got up in time to see him off, he thought discontentedly;
but he supposed one cowpuncher more or less made little difference to
her. Anyway, he didn't know as he had any license to moon around her.
She probably had a fellow; she might even be engaged, for all he knew.
And--she was Harry Conroy's sister; and from his experience with the
breed, good looks didn't count for anything. Harry was good-looking, and
he was a snake, if ever there was one. He had never expected to lie for
him--but he had done it, all right--and because Harry's sister happened
to have nice eyes and a pretty little foot!--

He had half a mind to go back and tell Rodway all he knew about those
horses; it was only a matter of time, anyway, till Harry Conroy overshot
the mark and got what was coming to him. He sure didn't owe Harry
anything, that he had need to shield him like he had done. Still,
Rodway would wonder why he hadn't told it at first; and that little girl
believed in Harry, and said he was "splendid!" Humph! He wondered if she
really meant that. If she did--

He squared his back to the house--and the memory of Miss Conroy's
eyes--and plodded across the field to the gate. Now the sun was shining,
and there was no possibility of getting lost. The way to the Cross L lay
straight and plain before him.

Rowdy rode leisurely up over the crest of a ridge beyond which lay the
home ranch of the Cross L. Whether it was henceforth to be his home