."

At this point Mrs. Transley arose, and the men moved out into the
living-room to chat on less contentious subjects. After a time the women
joined them, and Grant presently found himself absorbed in conversation
with the old rancher's wife. Zen seemed to pay but little attention
to him, and for the first time he began to realize what consummate
actresses women are. Had Transley been the most suspicious of
husbands--and in reality his domestic vision was as guileless as that of
a boy--he could have caught no glint of any smoldering spark of the long
ago. Grant found himself thinking of this dissembling quality as one of
nature's provisions designed for the protection of women, much as the
sombre plumage of the prairie chicken protects her from the eye of the
sportsman. For after all the hunting instinct runs through all men, be
the game what it may.

Before they realized how the time had flown Linder was protesting
that he must be on his way. At the gate Transley put a hand on Grant's
shoulder.

"I'm prepared to admit," he said, "that there's a whole lot in this old
world that needs correcting, but I'm not sure that it can be corrected.
You have a right to try out your experiments, but take a tip and keep
a comfortable cache against the day when you'll want to settle down and
take things as they are. It is true and always has been true that a man
who is worth his salt, when he wants a thing, takes it--or goes down
in the attempt. The loser may squeal, but that seems to be the path of
progress. You can't beat it."

"Well, we'll see," said Grant, laughing. "Sometimes two men, each worth
his salt, collide."

"As in the meadow of the South Y.D.," said Transley, with a smile. "You
remember that, Y.D.--when our friend here upset the haying operations?"

"Sure, I remember, but I'm not holdin' it agin him now. A dead horse is
a dead horse, an' I don't go sniffin' it."

"Perhaps I ought to say, though," Grant returned, "that I really do not
know how the iron pegs got into that meadow."

"And I don't know how your haystacks got afire, but I can guess.
Remember Drazk? A little locoed, an' just the crittur to pull off a fool
stunt like that. When the fire swept up the valley, instead of down, he
made his get-away and has never been seen since. I reckon likely there
was someone in Landson's gang capable o' drivin' pegs without consultin'
the boss."

The little group were standing in the shadow and Grant had no
opportun