fully. A yellow square opened in the cabin's side, and
a figure stood outlined against the shining background. Ward laughed
happily.

"Coma ti yi youpy, youpy-a, youpy-a," he sang uproariously.

Billy Louise turned her head toward the interior of the cabin and then
left the light and merged into the darkness without. Ward risked a
broken neck and went down the last bit of slope as if he were trying to
head a steer. By the time he galloped up to the gate, Billy Louise was
leaning over it. He could see her form dimly there.

"'Lo, Bill," he said softly and slid out of the saddle and went up to
her. "How you was, already?" Again his voice was like a kiss.

"'Lo, Ward!" (in a tone that returned the kiss). "Don't know whether
the stopping's good to-night or not. We've quit taking in tramps.
Where the dickens have you been for the last ten years?" And that, on
top of a firm conviction in Billy's Louise's mind that she did not care
whether Ward ever crossed her trail again, and that when he did, he
would have to do a lot of explaining before she would thaw to anything
approaching friendliness. Oh, well, we all change our minds sometimes.

"I felt like it was twenty," Ward affirmed. "Do I get any supper,
William? I like to have ridden my horse to a standstill getting here
to-night; know that? I hope you appreciate the fact."

"It's a wonder you wouldn't have started a little sooner, then," Billy
Louise retorted. "Along about Christmas, for instance."

"Wasn't my fault I didn't, William. Think I've got nothing to do but
chase around the country calling on young ladies? I've been a wage
slave, Bill-Loo. Come on while I put up my horse. Poor devil, I drove
cattle from Junkins' place with him, and they weren't what you could
call trail-broke, either. And then I came on down here. I've been in
the saddle since daylight, young lady; and Rattler's been under it."

"Well, I'm very sure that it is not my fault," Billy Louise disclaimed,
as she walked beside him to the stable.

"I'm not so sure of that! I might produce some pretty strong evidence
that the last twenty miles is your fault. Say, you didn't know I've
gone into the cow business myself, did you, William? I've been working
like one son-of-a-gun all fall and winter, and I'm in the cattle-king
class--to the extent of twelve head. I knew you were crazy to hear the
glad tidings, so I tried to kill off a horse to get here and tell you.
You and me'll