t
along with little me."

Beth, in her tumult of emotions, was changing color with bewildering
rapidity.

"Why--I expected to go along, of course," she said. "I've got a
suit--I've done it before--I mean, I expect to dress as you are, Glen,
and help to run the line."

Pratt grinned good-naturedly. "Keeps it all in the family. That's one
advantage."

"All right," said Glen. "Hike upstairs and don your splendors."

He had hired a car and stocked it with provisions, tents, and bedding.
He hastened off and returned with the chauffeur to the door.

Beth, in the costume she had worn on the day when Van found her lost in
the desert, made a shy, frightened youth, when at length she appeared,
but her courage was superb.

At ten o'clock they left the town, and rolled far out to the westward
on their course.

Van learned of their departure. He was certain that Beth had gone to
the "Laughing Water" claim, perhaps to be married to Bostwick. Three
times he went to the hay-yard that day, intent upon saddling his
broncho, riding to the claim himself, and fighting out his rights by
the methods of primitive man.

On the third of his visits he met a stranger who offered to purchase
Suvy on the spot at a price of two hundred dollars.

"Don't offer me a million or I might be tempted," Van told him gravely.
"I'll sell you my soul for a hundred."

The would-be purchaser was dry.

"I want a soul I can ride."

Van looked him over critically.

"Think you could ride my cayuse?"

"This broach?" said the man. "Surest thing you know."

"I need the money," Van admitted. "I'll bet you the pony against your
two hundred you can't."

"You're on."

Van called to his friend, the man who ran the yard.

"Come over here, Charlie, and hold the stakes. Here's a man who wants
to ride my horse."

Charlie came, heard the plan of the wager, accepted the money, and
watched Van throw on the saddle.

"I didn't know you wanted to sell," he said. "You know I want that
animal."

"If he goes he sells himself," said Van. "If he doesn't, you're next,
same terms."

"Let me have that pair of spurs," said the stranger, denoting a pair
that hung upon a nail. "I guess they'll fit."

He adjusted the spurs as one accustomed to their use. Van merely
glanced around. Nevertheless, he felt a sinking of the heart. Five
hundred dollars, much as he needed money, would not have purchased his
horse. And inasmuch as luck had been against hi