ico Creek, Bud Wilkinson had a grey stallion that run amuck on his
range. Took Bud nigh onto five years to get the grey. Well, I seen both
the grey and the black, and I helped run 'em a couple of times. Well,
Miss Jordan, when it come to running, neither of 'em was one-two-three
beside this chestnut, and if it took five years to get in rifle range of
'em for a good shot, it'll take ten to get the chestnut. That's the way
I figure!"

And as he ended, his companions nodded soberly.

"Plumb streak of light," they said. "Just nacheral crazy fool when it
comes to running, that hoss is!"

And Marianne, for the first time truly appreciating how great was the
danger from which the mares had been saved, sighed as she looked them
over again, one by one. It had been a double triumph, this night's work.
Not only were the mares retaken, but they had proved their speed and
staying powers conclusively in the long run over the desert. Hervey
himself began hinting, as they rode on, that he would like "to clap a
saddle on that Lady Mary hoss, one of these days." In truth, her
purchase was vindicated completely and Marianne fell into a happy dream
of a ranch stocked with saddle horses all drawn from the blood of these
neat-footed mares. With such horses to offer, she could pick and cull
among the best "punchers" in the West.

Into the dream, appropriately enough, ran the neigh of a horse, long
drawn and shrill of pitch, interrupted by a sudden burst of
deep-throated curses from the riders. The six mares had come to a halt
with their beautiful heads raised to listen, and on a far-off hill, Mary
saw the signaler--a chestnut horse gleaming red in the morning light.

"It's him!" shouted Hervey. "The nervy devil has come back to give us a
look. Shorty, take a crack at him!"

For that matter, every man in the party was whipping his rifle out of
its holster as Mary raised her field glass hurriedly to study the
stranger. She focused on him clearly at once and it was a startling
thing to see the distant figure shoot suddenly close to her, distinct in
every detail, and every detail an item of perfect beauty. She gasped her
admiration and astonishment; mustang he might be, but the short line of
the back above and the long line below, the deep set of the shoulders,
the length of neck, the Arab perfection of head, would have allowed him
to pass unquestioned muster among a group of thoroughbreds, and a picked
group at that. He turned, at that ins