thers; loved the grade geldings and fillies and
the registered stock that he kept close to home in fenced pastures; loved
the broom-tail bronks that ranged far afield and came in a dust cloud
moiling up from their staccato hoof beats, circled by hoarse, shouting
riders seen vaguely through the cloud.

There was a thrill in watching a corral full of wild horses milling round
and round, dodging the whispering ropes that writhed here and there
overhead to settle and draw tight over some unlucky head. There was a
thrill in the taming--more thrills than dollars, for until the war
overseas brought eager buyers, the net profits of the horse ranch would
scarcely have paid for Mary V's clothes and school and what she demurely
set down as "recreation."

But Sudden loved it, and Mary V loved it, and Mary V's mother loved
whatever they loved. So the Rolling R was home. And that is why the
Rolling R boys looked upon Mary V with unglamoured eyes, being thoroughly
accustomed to the sight of her and to the sharp tongue of her and to the
frequent discomfort of having her about.

They liked her, of course. They would have fought for her if ever the
need of fighting came, just as they would have fought for anything else
in their outfit. But they took her very calmly and as a matter of course,
and were not inclined to that worshipful bearing which romancers would
have us accept as the inevitable attitude of cowboys toward the daughter
of the rancho.

Wherefore Johnny Jewel was not committing any heinous act of treason when
he walked past Mary V with stiffened spine and head averted. Johnny was
mad at the whole outfit, and that included Mary V. Indeed, his anger
particularly included Mary V. A young man who has finished high school
and one year at a university, and who reads technical books rather than
fiction and has ambitions for something much higher than his present
calling,--oh, very much higher!--would naturally object to being called
a witless wight.

Johnny objected. He had cussed Aleck for repeating the epithet in the
bunk house, and he had tried to lick Bud Norris, and had failed. He
blamed Mary V for his skinned knuckles and the cut on his lip, and for
all his other troubles. Johnny did not know about the coat, though he had
it on; and if he had known, I doubt whether it would have softened his
mood. He was a terribly incensed young man.

Mary V had let her steps lag a little, knowing that Johnny must overtake
her presentl