over
to the Concho and get fixed up."

"Reckon that ain't no dream, Hi. Got to see the boss, anyhow."

"Well, 'anyhow' is correc'. And, say, you want to see him first and
tell him it's you. Your hoss is tied over there. Sinker fetched him
in."

"Hoss? Oh, yes, hoss! My hoss! Uhuh!"

With this somewhat ambiguous string of ejaculations Sundown limped
toward the pony. He turned when halfway there and called to Wingle.
"The cattle business is fine, Hi, fine, but between you and me I reckon
I'll invest in sheep. A fella is like to live longer."

Wingle stared gravely at the tall and tattered figure. He stared
gravely, but inwardly he shook with laughter. "Say, Sun!" he managed
to exclaim finally, "that there Nell Loring is a right fine gal, ain't
she?"

"You bet!"

"And Jack ain't the worst . . ." Wingle spat and chewed ruminatively.
"No, he ain't the worst," he asserted again.

"I dunno what that's got to do with gettin' drug sixteen mile," said
Sundown. "But, anyhow, you're right."

CHAPTER XIV

ON THE TRAIL TO THE BLUE

In the shade of the forest that edged the mesa, and just back of
Fernando's camp, a Ranger trail cuts through a patch of quaking-asp and
meanders through the heavy-timbered land toward the Blue range, a
spruce-clad ridge of southern hills. Close to the trail two saddle
horses were tied.

Fadeaway, riding toward his home ranch on the "Blue," reined up, eyed
the horses, and grinned. One of them was Chinook, the other Eleanor
Loring's black-and-white pinto, Challenge. The cowboy bent in his
saddle and peered through the aspens toward the sheep-camp. He saw
Corliss and Nell Loring standing close together, evidently discussing
something of more than usual import, for at that moment John Corliss
had raised his broad Stetson as though bidding farewell to the girl,
but she had caught his arm as he turned and was clinging to him. Her
attitude was that of one supplicating, coaxing, imploring. Fadeaway,
with a vicious twist to his mouth, spat. "The cattle business and the
sheep business looks like they was goin' into partnership," he
muttered. "Leave it to a woman to fool a man every time. And him
pertendin' to be all for the long-horns!" He saw the girl turn from
Corliss, bury her face in her arms, and lean against the tree beneath
which they were standing. Fadeaway grinned. "Women are all crooked,
when they want to be," he remarked,--"or any I ever knowed. If they