Larkin was paying the piper
for some unsavory fling of which she had heard nothing. She did not for a
moment believe that the affair could be as serious as Stelton wished her
to imagine; but she was sorely troubled, nevertheless, for she had always
cared for Larkin in a happy, wholehearted way.

Many times since her final coming West she had remembered with a secret
tenderness and pride that this wealthy and popular young man had been
willing to trust his life to her. It was one of the sweetest recollections
of those other far-off days.

Now, because the thought of Stelton's revelations was unbearable to her
she resolutely put it from her until a time when she could mourn alone
over this shattered illusion.

"Thank you, Mike, for telling me this," she said gently. "Please never say
anything further about it."

And Stelton, elated that his plan of revenge had worked so well, smiled
with satisfaction and relapsed into silence during the remainder of the
ride home.

All of these events are set down here with some pretense at detail to
indicate the important trend of affairs after Larkin had said a
more-or-less indifferent good-by to Juliet Bissell at the fork of Grass
Creek. While he was wrestling with material problems, these others that
destiny had suddenly joined to him were undergoing mental disturbances in
which he was the principal though unconscious factor. And this unconscious
prominence was to be the main reason for what next occurred.

It was perhaps noon of the day following Larkin's capture by the rustlers,
when from a point directly east of the ranch house a cowboy appeared,
riding at a hard gallop. Contrary to most fictions, cowboys rarely ever
urge their ponies beyond a trot, the only occasions being the round-up,
the stampede, the drive, or when something serious has occurred.

Mike Stelton saw the puncher from a distance and walked to the corral to
meet him. Jerking his pony back on his haunches, the rider leaped from his
back before the animal had fairly come to a stop.

"Mike, we've been tricked!" he cried. "That whole two thousand head of
sheep are tracking north as fast as they can go far over east on the
range, beyond the hills."

"What!" cried the foreman, hardly able to credit his ears. "The boys down
on watch at the Big Horn swore they had scattered the flock last night
when Larkin started to run them north on the range."

"Well, they swore wrong, then, for I've just come from where I s