the range. There's a spare saddle, if you want to
change off from yours."

"Thank you for the other things; but I prefer my own saddle," replied
Ashton.

He now perceived the dim form of Gowan starting off in the starlight,
and followed him to the bunkhouse. The other men were already in
their beds, fast asleep and half of them snoring. Gowan silently lit a
lantern and showed the tenderfoot to an unoccupied bunk in the far
corner of the rough but clean building. After a curt request for
Ashton to blow out the lantern when through with the light, he
withdrew, to tumble into a bunk near the door.

Ashton removed twice as many garments as had the puncher, and slipped
in between his fresh new blankets, after several minutes spent in
finding out how to extinguish the lantern. For some time he lay
listening. He had often read of the practical jokes that cowboys are
supposed always to play on tenderfeet. But the steady concert of the
snoring sleepers was unbroken by any horseplay. Presently he, too,
fell asleep.

He was wakened by a general stir in the bunkhouse. Day had not yet
come, but by the light of a lantern near the door he could see his
fellow employes passing out. He dressed as hastily as he could in his
gloomy corner, putting on his new trousers and the stiff leather
chapareras in place of his breeches and leggings. Gowan came in,
glanced at him with a trace of surprise, and went out with the
lantern.

Ashton followed to the house and around into the side porch. The other
men were making their morning toilets by lantern light, each drying
face and hands on his own towel. Ashton and Gowan waited their turn
at the basins, and together went into the lamplit dining-room, where
the Jap cook was serving bacon, coffee, and hot bread. Ashton lingered
over his meal, hoping to see Miss Isobel. But neither she nor her
father appeared.

Gowan had gone out with the other men. Presently he came back to the
side door and remarked in almost a friendly tone: "Your hawss is ready
whenever you are, Ashton."

"Thanks," said Ashton, rising. "The poor old brute must be rather
stiff after the spurring I gave him yesterday."

Gowan did not reply. He had gone out again. Somewhat nettled, Ashton
hastened after him. Dawn had come. The gray light in the east was
brightening to an exquisite pink. The clear twilight showed the
puncher waiting at the front of the house beside a saddled horse. A
glance showed Ashton that the saddle and