tell you, Boss," he said, "if there's any jackrabbits in the road
they'll get tramped on."

"I bet they will," said Transley, genially. "Well, you just slide down
and tell Y.D. we're coming in. She's going to be later than I figured,
but I can't hurry the work horses. You know that, Drazk."

"Sure I do, Boss," said Drazk, springing into his saddle. "Just watch
me lose myself in the dust." Then, to himself, "Here's where I beat the
boss to it."

The sun had fallen behind the mountains, the valley was filled with
shadow, the afterglow, mauve and purple and copper, was playing far up
the sky when Transley's outfit reached the Y.D. corrals. George Drazk
had opened the gate and waited beside it.

"Y.D. wants you an' Linder to eat with him at the house," he said as
Transley halted beside him. "The rest of us eat in the bunk-house."
There was something strangely modest in Drazk's manner.

"Had yours handed to you already?" Linder managed to banter in a low
voice as they swung through the gate.

"Hell!" protested Mr. Drazk. "A fellow that ain't a boss or a foreman
don't get a look-in. Never even seen her.... Come, you Pete-horse!" It
was evident George had gone back to his first love.

The wagons drew up in the yard, and there was a fine jingle of harness
as the teamsters quickly unhitched. Y.D. himself approached through the
dusk; his large frame and confident bearing were unmistakable even in
that group of confident, vigorous men.

"Glad to see you, Transley," he said cordially. "You done well out
there. 'So, Linder! You made a good job of it. Come up to the house--I
reckon the Missus has supper waitin'. We'll find a room for you up
there, too; it's different from bein' under canvas."

So saying, and turning the welfare of the men and the horses over to
his foreman, the rancher led Transley and Linder along a path through a
grove of cottonwoods, across a footbridge where from underneath came the
babble of water, to "the house," marked by a yellow light which poured
through the windows and lost itself in the shadow of the trees.

The nucleus of the house was the log cabin where Y.D. and his wife had
lived in their first married years. With the passage of time additions
had been built to every side which offered a point of contact, but the
log cabin still remained the family centre, and into it Transley and
Linder were immediately admitted. The poplar floor had long since worn
thin, save at the knots, and had been co