nagh
harshly replied, starting back toward the cabin.

The constable, smoking his pipe beside the fireplace, did not present an
anxious face; on the contrary, he seemed plumply content as he replied to
the ranger's greeting. He represented very well the type of officer which
these disorderly communities produce. Brave and tireless when working
along the line of his prejudices, he could be most laxly inefficient when
his duties cut across his own or his neighbor's interests. Being a
cattle-man by training, he was glad of the red herring which the Texas
officer had trailed across the line of his pursuit.

This attitude still further inflamed Cavanagh's indignant hate of the
country. The theory which the deputy developed was transparent folly. "It
was just a case of plain robbery," he argued. "One of them dagoes had
money, and Neill Ballard and that man Edwards just naturally follered him
and killed the whole bunch and scooted--that's my guess."

Cavanagh's outburst was prevented by the scratching and whining of a dog
at his door. For a moment he wondered at this; his perturbed mind had
dropped the memory of the loyal collie.

As he opened the door, the brute, more than half human in his gaze, looked
beseechingly at his new master, as if to say, "I couldn't help it--I was
so lonely. And I love you."

"You poor beastie," the ranger called, pityingly, and the dog leaped up in
a frenzy of joyous relief, putting his paws on his breast, then dropped to
the ground, and, crouching low on his front paws, quivered and yawned with
ecstasy of worship. It seemed that he could not express his passionate
adoration, his relief, except by these grotesque contortions.

"Come in, Laddie!" Ross urged, but this the dog refused to do. "I am a
creature of the open air," he seemed to say. "My duties are of the outer
world. I have no wish for a fireside--all I need is a master's praise and
a bit of bread."

Cavanagh brought some food, and, putting it down outside the door, spoke
to him, gently: "Good boy! Eat that and go back to your flock. I'll come
to see you in the morning."

When Cavanagh, a few minutes later, went to the door the dog was gone,
and, listening, the ranger could hear the faint, diminishing bleating of
the sheep on the hillside above the corral. The four-footed warden was
with his flock.

An hour later the sound of a horse's hoofs on the bridge gave warning of a
visitor, and as Cavanagh went to the door Gregg rode up,