eir going had been, for there was
a great glare of red in the sky, near to the lake, that was
suspiciously close to their own ranch.

Neither spoke a word, but, as the feeling of idle curiosity gave way
to one of interest, interest to suspicion and suspicion to anxiety,
their horses--as if sensing their masters' feelings--started off
themselves from a walk to a canter, from a canter to a gallop and from
a gallop to a hell-bent-for-leather race which never slackened until
the two riders threw themselves breathlessly from their backs, among a
crowd of neighbouring ranchers who had been doing their best to combat
the flames in the absence of the owners.

But it was all over. The heavy horses had been saved, the barns were
practically uninjured, but the dwelling house itself was but a charred
heap of smoking debris.

Phil looked dumbly at Jim. Jim threw out his hands, palms up and
showed his big teeth.

"Well, Philly, old cock!--there, there, by the grace of God, goes up
in smoke my ambitions to be the greatest fruit rancher and stock
breeder the world has ever known."

"Aren't we going to start and build up on the ruins?" asked Phil.

"We? Start all over? Good Lord, man,--not me, anyway! Not on your
tin-tacks! This is the best excuse I ever had for a thing in my life.
It's a heller of a game, this ranching stuff, to one who doesn't know
a darned thing about it. Great Scot, man!--we were never made for it,
anyway."

"I can't say that we have done very much so far," replied Phil.

"Do you want to have another go?"

Phil shook his head.

"No,--can't say I'm aching for it. If we could only sell the blessed
place as it stands."

A voice at Phil's elbow broke into the conversation.

The speaker was old Ralph Mawson, the man who owned the adjoining
ranch on the right.

Phil and Jim woke up as it were to find themselves surrounded by their
neighbours.

"You boys want to sell out? I'll make you a bid for her as she
stands--spot cash."

"Yes!" said Jim.

"Five thousand bucks," said Mawson.

"Haud yer horrrses!" said another voice, which simply romped with
delight every time it struck the letter "r."

Alick McAdam, the rancher on the left, was also on the job.

"I'll gi'e ye fifty-five hunnerrr."

"Six thousand!" topped Mawson in ministerial tones.

Things began to get interesting, and the crowd saw possibilities of an
auction.

Jim immediately turned from Mawson to McAdam.

"Sixty-five hunnerrr," dou