times out of
ten. The other time a range steer will tackle a rider that goes to
monkeyin' around him promiscuous. But they have to be taught manners,
ma'am--the same as human bein's. That scalawag will recognize the rope
now, ma'am, the same as a human outlaw will recognize the rope--or the
law. Of course both will be outlaws when there's no rope or no law
around, but--Why, ma'am," he laughed--"I'm gettin' right clever at
workin' my jaw, ain't I? Are you headin' back to the Flyin' W? Because if
you are, I'd be sort of glad to go along with you--if you'll promise you
won't go to galivantin' around the country on foot no more. Not that
_that_ steer will tackle you again, ma'am--he's been taught _his_ lesson.
But there's others."

She laughed and thanked him. As they rode she considered his subtle
reference to the law and the rope, and wondered if it carried any
personal significance to anyone. Twice she looked at him for evidence of
that, but could gain nothing from his face--suffused with quiet
satisfaction.

CHAPTER XVII

THE TARGET

Earlier in the morning, Ruth had watched Uncle Jepson and Aunt Martha
ride away in the buckboard toward Lazette. She had stood on the porch,
following them with her eyes until the buckboard had grown dim in her
vision--a mere speck crawling over a sun-scorched earth, under a clear
white sky in which swam a sun that for days had been blighting growing
things. But on the porch of the ranchhouse it was cool.

Ruth was not cool. When the buckboard had finally vanished into the
distance, with nothing left of it but a thin dust cloud that spread and
disintegrated and at last settled down, Ruth walked to a rocker on the
porch and sank into it, her face flushed, her eyes glowing with eager
expectancy.

A few days before, while rummaging in a wooden box which had been the
property of her uncle, William Harkness, she had come upon another box,
considerably smaller, filled with cartridges. She had examined them
thoughtfully, and at last, with much care and trepidation, had taken one
of them, found Uncle Harkness' big pistol, removed the cylinder and
slipped the cartridge into one of the chambers. It had fitted perfectly.
Thereafter she had yielded to another period of thoughtfulness--longer
this time.

A decision had resulted from those periods, for the day before, when a
puncher had come in from the outfit, on an errand, s