e at a reasonable
figure," Betty told him on his approach. "All that remains is for you
to confirm it."

"I reckon you're the boss," said Calumet. He looked at Kelton, and
evidently his fear that he would "smash" the tatter's face had
vanished--perhaps in a desire to possess the black horse, which had
seized him.

"I reckon you ain't sellin' that black horse?" he said.

"Cheap," said Kelton quickly.

"How cheap?"

"Fifty dollars."

"I reckon he's my horse," said Calumet. "The boss of the Lazy Y will
pay for him when she hands you the coin for your cattle." He
scrutinized Kelton's face closely, having caught a note in his voice
which had interested him. "Why you wantin' to get rid of the black?"
he questioned.

"He ain't been rode," said Kelton; "he won't be rode. You can back out
of that sale now, if you like. But I'm tellin' you the gospel truth.
There ain't no man in the Territory can ride him. Miskell, my regular
bronc-buster, is the slickest man that ever forked a horse, an' he's
layin' down in the bunkhouse right now, nursin' a leg which that black
devil busted last week. An' men is worth more to me than horses right
now. I reckon," he finished, eyeing Calumet with a certain
vindictiveness, which had undoubtedly lasted over from his acquaintance
with the latter in the old days; "that you ain't a heap smart at
breakin' broncs, an' you won't want the black now."

"I'm reckonin' on ridin' him back to the Lazy Y," said Calumet.

Kelton grinned incredulously, and Betty looked swiftly at Calumet. For
an instant she had half feared that this declaration had been made in a
spirit of bravado, and she was prepared to be disagreeably disappointed
in Calumet. She told herself when she saw his face, however, that she
ought to have known better, for whatever his other shortcomings she had
never heard him boast.

And that he was not boasting now was plainly evident, both to her and
Kelton. His declaration had been merely a calm announcement of a
deliberate purpose. He was as natural now as he had been all along.
She saw Kelton's expression change--saw the incredulity go out of it,
observed his face whiten a little.

But his former vindictiveness remained. "I reckon if you want to be a
damn fool I ain't interferin'. But I've warned you, an' it's your
funeral."

Calumet did not reply, contenting himself with grinning. He swung down
from Blackleg, removed the saddle and bridle from the animal, and