It did not occur to her that she herself made a picture to delight the
heart. The curves of her erect tiger-lithe young body were modeled by
nature to perfection. Radiant with the sheer pleasure of life, happy as
God's sunshine, she was a creature vividly in tune with the glad morning.

"Anyhow, I'm glad you won."

Their eyes met. A spark from his flashed deep into hers as a star falls
through the heavens on a summer night. Each looked away. After one
breathless full-pulsed moment she recovered herself.

"Wouldn't it be nice if----?"

His gaze followed hers to two riders in front of them. One was Maloney,
the other Myra Anderson. The sound of the girl's laughter rippled back to
them on the light breeze.

Curly smiled. "Yes, that would be nice. The best I can say for her--and
it's a whole lot--is that I believe she's good enough for Dick."

"And the best I can say for him is that he's good enough for her," the
girl retorted promptly.

"Then let's hope----"

"I can't think of anything that would please me more."

He looked away into the burning sun on the edge of the horizon. "I can
think of one thing that would please me more," he murmured.

She did not ask him what it was, nor did he volunteer an explanation.
Perhaps it was from the rising sun her face had taken its swift glow of
warm color.

PART II

LUCK

CHAPTER I

AT THE ROUND UP CLUB

A big game had been in progress all night at the Round Up Club. Now the
garish light of day streamed through the windows, but the electric cluster
still flung down its yellow glare upon the table. Behind the players were
other smaller tables littered with cigars, discarded packs, and glasses
full or empty. The men were in their shirt sleeves. Big broad-shouldered
fellows they were, with the marks of the outdoors hard-riding West upon
them. No longer young, they were still full of the vigor and energy of
unflagging strength. From bronzed faces looked steady unwinking eyes with
humorous creases around the corners, hard eyes that judged a man and his
claims shrewdly and with good temper. Most of them had made good in the
land, and their cattle fed upon a thousand hills.

The least among them physically was Luck Cullison, yet he was their
recognized leader. There was some innate quality in this man with the
gray, steel-chilled eyes that marked him as first in whatever company he
chose to frequent. A good friend and a good foe, men thought seriously
be