slept on. Senor Johnson tip-toed a dozen times to the bedroom
door. Once he ventured to push it open. He looked long within, then
shut it softly and tiptoed out into the open, his eyes shining.

"Jed," he said to his foreman, "you don't know how it made me feel. To
see her lying there so pink and soft and pretty, with her yaller hair
all tumbled about and a little smile on her--there in my old bed, with
my old gun hanging over her that way--By Heaven, Jed, it made me feel
almost HOLY!"

CHAPTER SIX

THE WAGON TIRE

About noon she emerged from the room, fully refreshed and wide awake.
She and Susie O'Toole had unpacked at least one of the trunks, and now
she stood arrayed in shirtwaist and blue skirt.

At once she stepped into the open air and looked about her with
considerable curiosity.

"So this is a real cattle ranch," was her comment.

Senor Johnson was at her side pressing on her with boyish eagerness the
sights of the place. She patted the stag hounds and inspected the
garden. Then, confessing herself hungry, she obeyed with alacrity
Sang's call to an early meal. At the table she ate coquettishly,
throwing her birdlike side glances at the man opposite.

"I want to see a real cowboy," she announced, as she pushed her chair
back.

"Why, sure!" cried Senor Johnson joyously. "Sang! hi, Sang! Tell
Brent Palmer to step in here a minute."

After an interval the cowboy appeared, mincing in on his high-heeled
boots, his silver spurs jingling, the fringe of his chaps impacting
softly on the leather. He stood at ease, his broad hat in both hands,
his dark, level brows fixed on his chief.

"Shake hands with Mrs. Johnson, Brent. I called you in because she
said she wanted to see a real cow-puncher."

"Oh, BUCK!" cried the woman.

For an instant the cow-puncher's level brows drew together. Then he
caught the woman's glance fair. He smiled.

"Well, I ain't much to look at," he proffered.

"That's not for you to say, sir," said Estrella, recovering.

"Brent, here, gentled your pony for you," exclaimed Senor Johnson.

"Oh," cried Estrella, "have I a pony? How nice. And it was so good of
you, Mr. Brent. Can't I see him? I want to see him. I want to give
him a piece of sugar." She fumbled in the bowl.

"Sure you can see him. I don't know as he'll eat sugar. He ain't that
educated. Think you could teach him to eat sugar, Brent?"

"I reckon," replied the cowboy.

They went out towa