t secret chambers for that Other. And as he rode, the
face of him was worn and the blue eyes of him sombre and dull; and
his mouth, that had lost utterly the humorous, care-free quirk at the
corners, was bitter, and straight, and hard.

He had started out with such naive assurance to succeed, and--he had
failed so utterly, so hopelessly, with not even a spectacular crash
to make the failing picturesque. He had done the best that was in
him, and even now that it was over he could not quite understand how
everything, _everything_ could go like that; how the Double-Crank and
Flora--how the range, even, had slipped from him. And now Dill was
gone, too, and he did not even know where, or if he would ever come
back.

He would pay the men; he had, with a surprising thrift, saved nearly
a thousand dollars in the bank at Tower. That, to be sure, was when he
had Flora to save for; since then he had not had time or opportunity
to spend it foolishly. It would take nearly every dollar; the way
he had figured it, he would have just twenty-three dollars left for
himself--and he would have the little bunch of horses he had in his
prosperity acquired for the pure love of owning a good horse. He would
sell the horses, except Barney and one to pack his bed, and he would
drift--drift just as do the range-cattle when a blizzard strikes
them in the open. Billy felt like a stray. His range was gone--gone
utterly. He would roll his bed and drift; and perhaps, somewhere, he
could find a stretch of earth as God had left it, unscarred by fence
and plow, undefiled by cabbages and sugar-beets (Brown's new settlers
were going strong on sugar-beets).

"Well, it's all over but the shouting," he summed up grimly when
Hardup came in sight. "I'll pay off the men and turn 'em loose--all
but Jim. Somebody's got to stay with the Bridger place till Dilly
shows up, seeing that's all he's got left after the clean-up. The rest
uh the debts can wait. Brown's mortgage ain't due yet" (Billy had his
own way of looking at financial matters) "and the old Siwash ain't got
any kick comin' if he never gets another cent out uh Dilly. The bank
ain't got the cards to call Dilly now, for his note ain't due till
near Christmas. So I reckon all I got to do after I pay the boys is
take m' little old twenty-three plunks, and my hosses--if I can't
sell 'em right off--and pull out for God-knows-where-and-I-don't-care-
a-damn!"

* * * * *

Cha