t would do to take along. But Ridley's awe of him
was due less to his roughness and to the big place he filled in the life
of the Panhandle than to the fact that he was the father of his
daughter. It was essential to Arthur's plans that he stand well with the
old-timer.

Though he did not happen to know it, young Ridley was a favorite of the
cattle king. He had been wished on him by an old friend, but there was
something friendly and genial about the boy that won a place for him.
His smile was modest and disarming, and his frank face was better than
any letter of recommendation.

But though Wadley was prepared to like him, his mind held its
reservations. The boy had come from the East, and the standards of that
section are not those of the West. The East asks of a man good family,
pleasant manners, a decent reputation, and energy enough to carry a man
to success along conventional lines. In those days the frontier West
demanded first that a man be game, and second that he be one to tie to.
He might be good or bad, but whichever he was, he, must be efficient to
make any mark in the turbulent country of the border. Was there a hint
of slackness in the jaw of this good-looking boy? Wadley was not sure,
but he intended to find out.

"You'll start Saturday. I'll meet you at Tascosa two weeks from to-day.
Understand?" The cattleman knocked the ashes from his pipe and rose. The
interview was at an end.

Young Ridley nodded. "I'll be there, sir--with the six thousand dollars
safe as if they were in a vault."

"H'm! I see you carry a six-shooter. Can you shoot?" Wadley flung at him
abruptly.

Arthur Ridley had always fancied himself as a shot. He had belonged to a
gun-club at home, and since coming to the Southwest he had practiced a
good deal with the revolver.

"Pretty well, sir."

"Would you--if it was up to you?"

The youngster looked into the steel-gray eyes roofed by the heavy thatch
of brow. "I think so. I never have had to yet. In the East--"

Wadley waved the East back to where it belonged. "Yes, I know. But we're
talkin' about Texas. Still, I reckon you ought not to have any trouble
on this trip. Don't let anybody know why you are at the fort. Don't
gamble or drink. Get the money from Major Ponsford and melt away
inconspicuous into the brush. Hit the trail hard. A day and a night
ought to bring you to Tascosa."

The cattleman was leading the way with long strides into an open space
back of the house. A p