tantalizing. "Was that horse gentled for your
grandmother?"

He eyed her angrily, but checked the reply on his tongue.

"Say, girl, can you tell me where I can find that fat Injun woman's tepee
who lives around here?"

"You mean my mother?"

He looked at her with new interest.

"Does she live in a log cabin on a crick?"

"She did about an hour ago."

"Is your mother a widder?"

"Lookin' for widders?"

"I likes widders. It happens frequent that widders are sociable
inclined--especially if they are hard up," he added insolently.

"Oh, you're ridin' the grub-line?" Her insolence equalled his own.

"Not yet;" and he took from his pocket a thick roll of banknotes.

"Blood money? Some sheep-herder's month's pay, I guess."

"You're a good guesser."

"Not very--you're easy."

The girl's dislike for Smith was as unreasoning and violent as was her
liking for the excitable little man whom she had helped up the hill, and
whose wagon was now rumbling close at her horse's heels.

They all travelled together in silence until, after a mile and a half on
the flat, the road sloped gradually toward a creek shadowed by willows. On
the opposite side of the creek were a ranch-house, stables, and corrals,
the extent of which brought a glint of surprise to Smith's eyes.

"That's where the widder lives who might be sociable inclined if she was
hard up," said the girl, with a sneer which made Smith's fingers itch to
choke her. "Couldn't coax you to stop, could I?"

"I aims to stay," Smith replied coolly.

"Sure--it won't cost you nothin'."

The girl waited for the wagon, and, with a change of manner in marked
contrast to her impudent attitude toward Smith, invited the little man to
spend the night at the ranch.

"We should not be intruders?" he asked doubtfully.

"You won't feel lonesome," she answered with a laugh. "We keep a kind of
free hotel."

"Colonel, I cakalate we better lay over here," broke in Tubbs.

His employer winced at this new title, but nodded assent; so they all
forded the shallow stream and entered the dooryard together.

"Mother!" called the girl.

One of the heavy plank doors of the long log-house opened, and a short
woman, large-hipped, full-busted--in appearance a typical blanket
squaw--stood in the doorway. Her thick hair was braided Indian fashion,
her fingers adorned with many rings. The wide girdle about her waist was
studded with brass nail-heads, while gaily-beaded moccasins covered h