roat he did turn, then, and saw
Rambler's head over the little ridge he had just crossed. The horse was
making shift to follow him rather than be left alone in that strange
country. Ford waited, his lashes glistening in the first rays of the
new-risen sun, until the horse came hobbling stiffly up to him.

"You old devil!" he murmured then, his contrite tone contrasting oddly
with the words he used. "You contrary, ornery, old devil, you!" he
repeated softly, rubbing the speckled nose with more affection than he
had ever shown a woman. "You'd tag along, if--if you didn't have but one
leg to carry you! And I was going to--" He could not bring himself to
confess his meditated deed of mercy; it seemed black-hearted treachery,
now, and he stood ashamed and humbled before the dumb brute that nuzzled
him with such implicit faith.

It was slow journeying, after that. Ford carried the saddle on his own
back rather than burden the horse with it, and hungry as he was, he
stopped often and long, and massaged the sprained shoulder faithfully
while Rambler rested it, with all his weight on his other legs and his
nose rooting gently at Ford's bowed head.

A stray rider assured him that he was on the right trail, but it was
past noon when he thankfully reached the Double Cross, threw his saddle
down beside the stable door, and gave Rambler a chance at the hay in the
corral.

CHAPTER VII

The Foreman of the Double Cross

"Hell-o, Ford, where the blazes did you drop down from?" a welcoming
voice yelled, when he was closing the gate of the corral behind him and
thinking that it was like Ches Mason to have a fine, strong corral and
gate, and then slur the details by using a piece of baling wire to
fasten it. The last ounce of disgust with life slid from his mind when
he heard the greeting, and he turned and gripped hard the gloved hand
thrust toward him. Ches Mason it was--the same old Ches, with the same
humorous wrinkles around his eyes and mouth, the same kindliness, the
same hearty faith in the world as he knew it and in his fellowmen as he
found them--the unquestioning faith that takes it for granted that the
other fellow is as square as himself. Ford held his hand while he
permitted himself a swift, reckoning glance which took in these
familiar landmarks of the other's personality.

"Don't seem to have hurt you much--matrimony," he observed whimsically,
as he dropped the hand. "You look just like you always did--with y