t about the supper work
along with Anita and Jose and pretty dark Paula. She stood a moment on
the broad stone at the kitchen door, a dish of butter from the
springhouse under the poplars in her hand, and watched Billy Brent and
Curly bring in a bunch from up Long Meadow way. She thought how bright
the spotted cattle looked, how lithe and graceful the men, and then
her eyes lighted as they always did when she beheld the horses of
Last's Holding--the horses of the Finger Marks.

Billy rode Redbuck, Curly Drumfire, and they were princes of a royal
blood, albeit Nature's strain alone. Slim, spirited, wiry, eager
heads up, manes flying, bright hoofs flashing in the late sunlight,
they came home to Last's after a long day's work, fresh as when they
went out at dawn.

"Nothin' ever floors them," Tharon said aloud to herself. "Wonderful
creatures."

She set the butter down on the rock at her feet, cupped her hands
about her lips and sent out a keen, clear call, two notes, one rising,
one falling. It had a livening, compelling quality.

Instantly Drumfire flung up his head and answered it with a ringing
whistle, though he did not lose a stride in the flying curve he was
performing to head a stubborn yearling that refused in stiff-tailed
arrogance to go into the corrals.

The girl smiled and, stooping, picked up her dish and entered.

It was late before the last straggler was in from the range. The boys
washed at the big sink on the porch, and were ready for the hearty
fare that steamed in the lamp-lighted room. For the last hour Tharon
had been watching the eastern slopes for her father.

"He's ridin' late, Anita," she said anxiously as the men trooped in
with the usual jest and laughter.

"He went far, no doubt, _Corazon,"_ said old Anita comfortably. "He
goes so fast on El Rey that time as well as distance flies beneath the
shining hoofs."

Anita was like her people, mystic and soft-spoken.

"True," said the girl gently, "I forget, El Rey is mighty. He went
very far I make no doubt. We'll hear him comin' soon."

Then she poured steaming coffee in the cups about the table, smiling
down in the eyes upturned to hers. Billy, Curly, Bent Smith, Jack
Masters and Conford, the foreman, they all had a love-look for her,
and the girl felt it like a circling guerdon. She was grateful for the
sense of security that seemed to emanate from her father's riders, a
bit wistful withal, as if, for the first time in her life, she n