ny longer unless he accepted Bostil's offer, and this
was not to be thought of. With a wrench Slone threw off the softening
indecision and hurried out to find Bostil while the determination was
hot.

Bostil was in the corral with Wildfire. This was the second time Slone
had found him there. Wildfire appeared to regard Bostil with a much
better favor than he did his master. As Slone noted this a little heat
stole along his veins. That was gall to a rider.

"I like your hoss," said Bostil, with gruff frankness. But a tinge of
red showed under his beard.

"Bostil, I'm sorry I can't take you up on the job," rejoined Slone,
swiftly. "It's been hard for me to decide. You've been good to me. I'm
grateful. But it's time I was tellin' you."

"Why can't you?" demanded Bostil, straightening up with a glint in his
big eyes. It was the first time he had asked Slone that.

"I can't ride for you," replied Slone, briefly.

"Anythin' to do with Lucy?" queried Bostil.

"How so?" returned Slone, conscious of more heat.

"Wal, you was sweet on her an' she wouldn't have you," replied Bostil.

Slone felt the blood swell and boil in his veins. This Bostil could say
as harsh and hard things as repute gave him credit for.

"Yes, I AM sweet on Lucy, an' she won't have me," said Slone, steadily.
"I asked her to let me come to you an' tell you I wanted to marry her.
But she wouldn't."

"Wal, it's just as good you didn't come, because I might...." Bostil
broke off his speech and began again. "You don't lack nerve, Slone.
What'd you have to offer Lucy?"

"Nothin' except--But that doesn't matter," replied Slone, cut to the
quick by Bostil's scorn. "I'm glad you know, an' so much for that."

Bostil turned to look at Wildfire once more, and he looked long. When
he faced around again he was another man. Slone felt the powerful
driving passion of this old horse-trader.

"Slone, I'll give you pick of a hundred mustangs an' a thousand dollars
for Wildfire!"

So he unmasked his power in the face of a beggarly rider! Though it
struck Slone like a thunderbolt, he felt amused. But he did not show
that. Bostil had only one possession, among all his uncounted wealth,
that could win Wildfire from his owner.

"No," said Slone, briefly.

"I'll double it," returned Bostil, just as briefly.

"No!"

"I'll--"

"Save your breath, Bostil," flashed Slone. "You don't know me. But let
me tell you--you CAN'T BUY my horse!"

The great veins swelle