tunately found it with little difficulty. Meanwhile she soothed the
victim with gentle womanly sympathy.

"I know it hurts a good deal. Just a minute and I'll be through."

His hands clutched tightly the edges of his bunk. "That's all right,
doc. You attend to roping that pill and I'll endure the grief."

A long sigh of relief went up from the assembled cowboys when she drew
the bullet out.

The sinewy hands fastened on the wooden bunk relaxed suddenly.

"'Frisco's daid," gasped the cook, who bore the title of Wun Hop for
no reason except that he was an Irishman in a place formerly held by a
Chinese.

"He has only fainted," she said quietly, and continued with the
antiseptic dressing.

When it was all over, the big, tanned men gathered at the entrance to
the calf corral and expanded in admiration of their new boss.

"She's a pure for fair. She grades up any old way yuh take her to
the best corn-fed article on the market," pronounced Denver, with
enthusiasm.

"I got to ride the boundary," sighed Missou. "I kinder hate to go right
now."

"Here, too," acquiesced another. "I got a round-up on Wind Creek to cut
out them two-year-olds. If 'twas my say-so, I'd order Mac on that job."

"Right kind of y'u. Seems to me"--Mac's sarcastic eye trailed around to
include all those who had been singing her praises--"the new queen of
this hacienda won't have no trouble at all picking a prince consort when
she gets round to it. Here's Wun Hop, not what y'u might call anxious,
but ce'tainly willing. Then Denver's some in the turtle-dove business,
according to that hash-slinger in Cheyenne. Missou might be induced to
accept if it was offered him proper; and I allow Jim ain't turned the
color of Redtop's hair jest for instance. I don't want to leave out
'Frisco and the other boys carrying Bannister's pills--"

"Nor McWilliams. I'd admire to include him," murmured Denver.

That sunburned, nonchalant youth laughed musically. "Sure thing. I'd
hate to be left out. The only difference is--"

"Well?"

His roving eye circled blandly round. "I stand about one show in a
million. Y'u roughnecks are dead ones already."

With which cold comfort he sauntered away to join Miss Messiter and
the foreman, who now appeared together at the door of the ranchhouse,
prepared to make a tour of the buildings and the immediate corrals.

"Isn't there a woman on the place?" she was asking Morgan.

"No'm, there ain't. Henderson's daughter would c