s ranchmen,
and the girls belonging to their little world. Nor among them could
have been found any one more brightly debonair and attractive than Nan
Tristram.

There was never a sign about her of the disquieting thoughts of
overnight. Such things might never have been. Her eyes, so soft and
brown, were sparkling with that joy of life which never fails in its
attraction even for the most serious mind. She sat her brown mare
astride with the easy grace of a born horsewoman. Her equipment lacked
no detail in its comparison with that of the other women. Bud's
warning on this point had fallen upon willing and attentive ears when
he had handed the girl a signed blank check. And the old man had found
ample reward for his generosity in the rivalry amongst the men for his
"gal's" escort.

The only shadow which fell across his enjoyment had occurred when he
beheld Jeff leading the cavalcade at the side of Mrs. Van Blooren. But
in Nan's case it seemed to give not the smallest qualm. Her one single
purpose seemed to be to obtain a maximum of enjoyment at the side of
young Bill Dugdale, a college-bred youth of more than ordinary repute
as a prosperous cattleman.

The day was fresh for midsummer. The sky was ruffled with great
billowing white summer clouds, and a cool northwest breeze was coming
off the mountain tops. The whole world about them was assuming that
tawny green of the ripening season, and the trail was sufficiently
dusty for its abandonment in favor of the bordering grass. But if
midsummer reigned over Nature, Spring, fresh, radiant Spring was in the
hearts of those seeking the mild excitement of Calthorpe's race-track.

Nan and young Dugdale laughed and chattered their way in the wake of
the several couples ahead. Dugdale's desire to please was more than
evident. And Nan was at no time difficult. Just now she seemed to
enter into the spirit of everything with a zest which sent the man's
hopes soaring skyward.

Once only during the brief ride did the girl give the least sign that
her interest lay on anything but her good-looking escort. It was at a
moment when Dugdale was pointing out to her the humorous inspiration of
his own registered cattle brand.

"You see, 'B.B.' don't sound much of a scream, Miss Tristram," he said,
in great seriousness. "I don't guess it's likely to set you falling
out of your saddle in one wild hysterical whoop of unrestrained mirth.
Course I'm known by it, same as you