ith a newspaper guy an' gets to fillin' him plumb full o'
misinformation about me. To hear him tell it I was the white-haired guy
from the Panhandle an' had come to Denver for to hunt a girl to marry.
Well, that reporter he goes back an' writes a piece in his paper about
how it was the chance of a lifetime for any onmarried fe-male, of even
disposition an' pleasin' appearance, between the ages of twenty an'
thirty-five, to marry a guaranteed Texas cowpuncher, warranted kind an'
sound an' to run easy in double harness. An' would the ladies please
come early to the St. Peter hotel an' inquire for Mr. Quint Sullivan."

"Did any of them come?" asked Ramona, her eyes dancing.

"Did they? Wow! They swarmed up the stairs an' crowded the elevators,
while that doggoned Tex sicked 'em on me. Honest, I didn't know there
was so many onmarried ladies in the world."

"How did you escape?" asked the girl, well aware that he was drawing the
long bow.

"Ma'am, the fire department rescued me. But I ce'tainly did lie awake
the balance of the trip tryin' to get even with Jack Roberts. But it's
no manner of use. He lands right-side up every time."

After they had reached Crane Lake the cowpuncher tied the horses while
Ramona started around to the far side, following the shore line and
keeping her eyes open for ducks. The girl made a half-circuit of the
lake without getting a shot. There were ducks enough to be seen, but as
yet none of them were within range.

It might have been half an hour after Ramona left Sullivan that there
came a shot from the other side of the lake. It was followed almost
immediately by a second, a third, and a fourth. 'Mona caught sight of
Quint running fast toward the horses. Her heart felt a sudden
constriction as of an iron band tightening upon it, for half a dozen
mounted Indians were in hot pursuit. She saw the boy reach the nearest
bronco, jerk loose the bridle rein, vault to the saddle, and gallop
away, lying low on the back of the horse. The Indians fired from their
horses as they rode, but the man flying for his life did not take time
to shoot.

For a moment 'Mona stood in plain view by the lake shore. Then she
dropped among the rushes, her heart fluttering wildly like that of a
forest bird held captive in the hand. She was alone, at the mercy of
twoscore of hostile Indians. They would know that the cowboy had a
companion because of the second bronco, and as soon as they returned
from the pursuit the