s. Bissell, who proved to be a
typical early cowman's wife, thin, overworked, and slightly vinegary of
disposition, despite the fact that she had at one time in her life been
the belle of a cowtown, and had been won from beneath the ready .45's of a
number of rivals.

At Bud's entrance Stelton grunted and scowled, and generally showed
himself ill-pleased that Juliet should have known the visitor. On the
other hand, as the girl had promised, Beef Bissell, for years the terror
of the range, displayed a side that the sheepman would never have
suspected. His voice became gentle, his laugh softened, his language
purified, and he showed, by many little attentions, the unconscious
chivalry that worship of a good woman brings to the surface.

For her part, the girl appraised this devotion at its true value and never
failed in the little feminine thoughtfulnesses that appeal so strongly to
a worried and busy man.

That Stelton should be at the table at all surprised Bud, for it was not
the habit of foremen to eat away from the punchers. But here the fact was
the result of a former necessity when Bissell, hard-pressed, had called
his foreman into consultation at meal times.

Old Bissell proved himself a more genial host than business rival, and
when he had learned of Larkin and his daughter's former friendship, he
forgot sheep for the moment and took an interest in the man. Mrs. Bissell
sat open-mouthed while Bud told of the glories of Chicago in the early
eighties, and never once mentioned her famous visit to St. Paul, so
overcome was she with the tales this young man related.

Everyone was at his or her ease when the rapid tattoo of hoofs was heard,
and a horse and rider drew up abruptly at the corral. One of the punchers
from the rear dining-room went out to meet him and presently appeared
sheepishly in the doorway where Bissell could see him.

"Is there a Mr. Larkin here?" asked the puncher.

"Yes," said Bud, pushing back his chair.

"There's a stranger out here that 'lows he wants to see you."

"Send him in here and give him something to eat, Shorty," sang out
Bissell. "If he's a friend of Larkin's, he'd better have dinner with him.
And, Shorty, tell that Chinaman to rustle another place here _pronto!_"

As for Bud Larkin, he was at a total loss to know who his visitor might
be. With a sudden twinge of fear he thought that perhaps Hard-winter Sims,
his chief herder, had pursued him with disastrous information from