d been able to afford it Bob would not have bought
expensive articles. He did not make any claim about his ability to punch
cattle, and he knew instinctively that real riders would resent any
attempt on his part to swagger as they did. A remark dropped by Blister
came to mind.

"The b-bigger the hat the smaller the herd, son. Do all yore b-braggin'
with yore actions."

It is often a characteristic of weakness that it clings to strength. Bob
would have given much for the respect and friendship of these clear-eyed,
weather-beaten men. To know that he had forfeited these cut deep into his
soul. The clerk that waited on him at the store joked gayly with two
cowboys lounging on the counter, but he was very distantly polite to
Dillon. The citizens he met on the street looked at him with chill eyes.
A group of schoolboys whispered and pointed toward him.

Bob had walked out from Haines's office in a huff, but as he rode back to
the ranch he recognized the justice of his fat friend's decision. He had
forfeited the right to take any interest in June Tolliver. His nature was
to look always for the easiest way. He never wanted trouble with anybody.
Essentially he was peace-loving even to the point of being spiritless. To
try to slip back into people's good will by means of the less robust
virtues would be just like him.

Probably Blister was right when he had told him to be a wolf. For him,
anything was better than to be a sheep.

He clamped his teeth. He would show the Rio Blanco country whether he had
a chicken heart. He would beat back somehow so that they would have to
respect him whether they wanted to or not. If he made up his mind to it
he could be just as game as Dud Hollister.

He would go through or he would die trying.

CHAPTER XXI

JUNE DISCOVERS A NEW WORLD

Blister had not overstated the case to Bob when he told him that June had
been having the time of her life getting well. She had been a lonely
little thing, of small importance in a country very busy on its own
affairs. The sense of inferiority had oppressed her, due both to the
secret of her father's past and the isolation in which she dwelt. This
had stimulated a sullen resentment and a shy pride which held even
friendly souls at arm's length.

Now she was being petted by everybody with whom she came into contact.
She was pathetically grateful, and the big-hearted men and women of the
frontier were worthy of the feeling. They gave her eager g