eals like it smahts, Sandy, I'll say I'm cured now."

"It don't amount to much, Sam," said Sandy. "Yore flesh allus closed up
quick. What you goin' to do with yore ninety dollars?"

"I thought of buyin' me a new saddle. Mine's spiled. Couldn't trust that
tree fo' ropin' now. But I figger I'll buy me a fine travelin' bag fo'
Molly. Loan me yore catalogue, Mormon, so's I can choose one."

So, bantering one another, they bunked in.

CHAPTER VI

PASO CABRAS

They did not make butter on the Three Star.

Since the arrival of Molly an unwilling and refractory cow had been
brought in from the range and half forced, half coaxed to give the fresh
milk that Mormon insisted the girl needed. Until then evaporated milk
had suited all hands. But butter--to go with hot cakes and
sage-honey--was an imperative need for the riders. Riders demanded the
best quality in the "found" part of their wages and the three partners
supplied it. The butter came over weekly from the Bailey ranch to be
kept under the spring cover for cooling. Usually the gangling young Ed
Bailey brought it over in the crotchety flivver. When Sandy saw the
sparsely fleshed figure of Miranda Bailey seated by the driver he winced
in spirit. This second visitation looked like mere curiosity and gossip
and offset the opinion he had begun to form of the spinster--that she
was sound underneath her angularities and mannerisms.

It was twilight. The three partners and Molly were on the ranch-house
porch after supper, and there was no escape. Sam slid his harmonica into
his pocket silently and Mormon groaned aloud as the rattlebang car
chugged up and was braked, shaking all over until the engine was shut
off. Ed Bailey crossed his legs and rolled his cigarette. No one at the
Three Star had ever seen him alight from the car, Mormon insisted he ate
and slept in it. Miranda nodded at the three partners, who rose as she
came up the steps.

"You sure need some new clothes, child," she said to Molly. "You got to
have 'em. I heard you was shot," she went on to Sam. "That sling ain't
right. You should have it fixed so yore wrist is higher'n yore elbow.
Who's tendin' it?"

"It's healin' fine," said Sam. "I'm pure-blooded an' my flesh allus
heals quick."

Miranda sniffed.

"I reckon prohibition helps some," she retorted. "Now then, I come on
business. Sandy Bourke, you ain't any of you the legal guardian of that
child, air you?"

"Nothin' illegal in what we're doi