owan stepped nearer the girl as her father went inside. "I'll leave
it to the tenderfoot to tell you, Miss Chuckie. He'll have to own up I
gave him fair warning. Told him he wouldn't need his spurs, and asked
if he'd have another bit and saddle; but it wasn't any use. He's the
kind that won't take advice."

"I know you meant it as a joke, Kid. You did not realize the danger of
his narrow stirrups. Had he been caught in mounting or had he been
thrown, he would almost certainly have been dragged. And for you to
give him our one ugly hawss!"

"You said he could ride," the puncher defended himself.

"I'll forgive you for your joke--if he comes back safe," she
qualified, without turning her gaze from the now distant horse and
rider.

Gowan started for the corral, the slight waddle of his bowlegged gait
rather more pronounced than usual. When Knowles came out with his hat,
the runaway was well up on the divide towards Dry Fork. Rocket was
justifying his name.

In a few seconds the flying horse and rider had disappeared down the
far slope. The girl followed her father and Gowan to the corral, and
after they had ridden off, she roped and saddled one of the three
horses in the corral. She mounted and was off on the jump, riding
straight for the nearest point on the summit of the divide.

As, presently, she came up towards the top of the rise, she gazed
anxiously ahead towards Dry Fork. Before she could see over the bend
down to the creek channel, she caught sight of a cloud of dust far out
on the mesa beyond the stream. She smiled with relief and wheeled
about to return. The tenderfoot had safely crossed the stream bed. He
would have Rocket well in hand before they came to rough country.

CHAPTER IX

THE SNAKE

Early in the afternoon, having nothing else to do, Isobel again
saddled up and started off towards Dry Fork. Her intention was to ride
out on the road to Stockchute and meet Ashton, if he was not too
late.

As she rode up one side of the divide, a hat appeared over the bend of
the other side. She could not mistake the high peak of that comic
opera sombrero. Ashton was almost back to the ranch. Her first thought
was that he had gone part way, and given up the trip. The big sombrero
bobbed up and down in an odd manner. She guessed the cause even before
Ashton's head and body appeared, rising and falling rhythmically. She
stared as Rocket swept up into view, covering the ground with a
long-strided trot.