ason, when Ford dismounted and flung the stirrup up
over the saddle, that he might loosen the latigo and free his steaming
horse of its burden. "I didn't look for you before to-morrow night, at
the earliest. But I'm mighty glad you're here, let me tell you. That
leaves me free to hit the trail to-morrow. I've got to make a trip home;
the old man's down with inflammatory rheumatism, and they want me to
go--haven't been home for six years, so I guess they've got a license to
put in a bid for a month or two of my time, huh? I didn't want to pull
out, though, till you showed up. I'm kinda leery about leaving the women
alone, with just a couple of sow-egians on the ranch. Bud, you go get a
pan of oats for old Schley. Supper's about ready, Ford. Have the boys
shovel some hay into the corral, and we'll leave the bunch there till
morning. Say, the wagons didn't beat you much; they never pulled in
till after three. Mose says the going's bad, on them dobe patches."

Not much of an opening, that, for saying what Ford felt he was in duty
bound to say. He was constrained to wait until a better opportunity
presented itself--and, as is the way with opportunity, it did not seem
as if it would ever come of its own accord. There was Buddy, full of
exciting anecdotes about Rambler, and how he had rubbed the liniment on,
all alone, and Rambler never kicked or did a thing; and how he and
Josephine rode clear over to Jenson's and got caught in the storm and
almost got lost--only Buddy's horse knew the way home. And, later, there
was Mrs. Kate's excellent supper and gracious welcome, and an evening
devoted to four-handed cribbage--with Josephine and Mason as implacable
adversaries--and a steady undercurrent of latent hostility between him
and the girl, which prevented his thinking much about himself and his
duty to Mason. There was everything, in fact, to thwart a man's
resolution to discharge honorably a disagreeable duty, and to distract
his attention.

Ford went to bed with the baffled sense of being placed in a false
position against his will; and, man-like, he speedily gave over thinking
of that, and permitted his thoughts to dwell upon a certain face which
owned a perfectly amazing pair of lashes, and upon a manner
tantalizingly aloof, with glimpses now and then of fascinating
possibilities in the way of comradeship, when the girl inadvertently
lowered her guard in the excitement of close playing.

CHAPTER XI

"It's Going to B