he mental effort to solve the problem before
him.

Carolyn June and Ophelia exchanged sly winks as they guessed the thing
that was in Old Heck's mind.

Skinny, himself, was a bit worried as the time drew near for the return
of the cowboys. He hoped Carolyn June wouldn't spring another dance or
similar opportunity for indiscriminate love-making.

Nor had Carolyn June forgotten that to-day was Saturday and Parker and
the cowboys were expected back from the first half of the beef round-up.
The week had been pleasant enough but she had missed the Ramblin' Kid
and the Gold Dust maverick more than she cared to confess. She wondered
if the outlaw filly would remember her.

Saturday was a day of considerable tension for all at the Quarter Circle
KT. Night came and Parker and the cowboys had not returned. Nor did they
come on Sunday. Evidently the beef round-up had gone more slowly than
was expected.

It was late Monday afternoon when the grub-wagon grumbled and creaked
its way up the lane and stopped near the back-yard gate. Sing Pete
climbed clumsily down from the high seat. Old Heck and Skinny unhitched
Old Tom and Baldy while the Chinese cook chattered information about
Parker, the cowboys and the round-up. He had left the North Springs
early that morning. Two nights before the herd had run--it was a
stampede--some sheep had been where the cattle were bedded. Maybe that
was it. Chuck and Bert were on night guard and could not hold them. The
steers mixed badly with the rangers. Nearly two days it took to gather
them again. That was why they were late. Now everything was all right
The cattle were being driven to the big pasture. Pedro would be along
soon with the saddle cavallard. By dark maybe the others would be at the
ranch.

It was midnight before Parker and the cowboys came in.

When Carolyn June stepped out on the porch Tuesday morning she glanced
toward the circular corral, which for more than a week had been empty.
Her heart gave a leap of delight.

Captain Jack was standing at the bars of the corral and behind him the
early sunlight glinted on the chestnut sides of the Gold Dust maverick.

CHAPTER XIV

THE GRAND PARADE

Eagle Butte was a jam of humanity. It was Tuesday noon. At one o'clock
the Grand Parade would circle the mile track at the "Grounds"--a hundred
level acres enclosed by a high board fence lying at the west edge of
Eagle Butte, between the Cimarron River and the road that led out to