knowing that he had failed
in what he probably had some hope of accomplishing in his sly and
unworthy way.

Things went along quietly after that for a few weeks. Hargus did not
attempt any retaliatory move; on the side of Kerr's ranch all was quiet.
The Iowa boy, under Taterleg's tutelage, was developing into a
trustworthy and capable hand, the cattle were fattening in the grassy
valleys. All counted, it was the most peaceful spell that Philbrook's
ranch ever had known, and the tranquility was reflected in the owner,
and her house, and all within its walls.

Lambert did not see much of Vesta in those first weeks of his
employment, for he lived afield, close beside the fences which he
guarded as his own honor. Taterleg had a great pride in the matter also.
He cruised up and down his section with a long-range rifle across his
saddle, putting in more hours sometimes, he said, than there were in a
day. Taterleg knew very well that slinking eyes were watching him from
the covert of the sage-gray hills. Unceasing vigilance was the price of
reputation in that place, and Taterleg was jealous of his.

Lambert was beginning to grow restless under the urge of his spirit to
continue his journey westward in quest of the girl who had left her
favor in his hand. The romance of it, the improbability of ever finding
her along the thousand miles between him and the sea, among the
multitudes of women in the cities and hamlets along the way, appealed to
him with a compelling lure.

He had considered many schemes for getting trace of her, among the most
favored being that of finding the brakeman who stood on the end of the
train that day among those who watched him ride and overtake it, and
learning from him to what point her ticket read. That was the simplest
plan. But he knew that conductors and brakemen changed every few hundred
miles, and that this plan might not lead to anything in the end. But it
was too simple to put by without trying; when he set out again this
would be his first care.

He smiled sometimes as he rode his lonely beat inside the fence and
recalled the thrill that had animated him with the certainty that Vesta
Philbrook would turn out to be _the_ girl, _his_ girl. The
disappointment had been so keen that he had almost disliked Vesta that
first day. She was a fine girl, modest and unaffected, honest as the
middle of the day, but there was no appeal but the appeal of the weak to
the strong from her to him. They we