hton's bunk."

Gowan again stared across at the tenderfoot, this time with unblinking
solemnity. "Can't say, Mr. Knowles," he replied. "Except it might be
that desperado guide of his came around in the night and brought him
Mr. Rattler for bedfellow."

"Oh, Kid!" remonstrated Isobel. "It's not a joking matter!"

"No, you're dead right, Miss Chuckie," he agreed. "There shore ain't
any joke about it."

"Ah, but perhaps I can make one," gayly dissented Ashton. "Had you not
interfered, Miss Chuckie, the poor snake would have taken one bite,
and then curled up and died. I'm so charged with nicotine, you know."

Neither Isobel nor the puncher smiled at this ancient witticism. But
Knowles burst into a hearty laugh, which was caught up and reenforced
by the hitherto silent haymakers.

"By--James! Ashton, you'll do!" declared the cowman, wiping his eyes.
"When a tenderfoot can let off a joke like that on himself it's a sure
sign he's getting acclimated. Yes, you'll make a puncher, some day."

Ashton smiled with gratification, and looked at Isobel in eager-eyed
appeal for the confirmation of the statement. She smiled and nodded.

Upon his return from his remarkable ride to town she had assured him
that he need not worry. Her present kindly look and the words of her
father might have been expected to remove his last doubts. Such in
fact was the result for the remainder of the evening.

But that night the new employe must have given much anxious thought to
the question of his future and his great need to "make good." The
liveliness of his concern was shown by his behavior during the next
two weeks. His zeal for work astonished Knowles quite as much as his
efforts to be agreeable to his fellow employes gratified Miss Isobel.
He charmed the Japanese cook with his praise of the cooking, he
flattered the haymakers with his interest in their opinions. Towards
the girl and her father he was impeccably respectful.

Within ten days he was "Lafe" to everybody except Gowan and the Jap.
The latter addressed him as "Mistah Lafe"; Gowan kept to the
noncommittal "Ashton." The puncher had become more taciturn than ever,
but missed none of the home evenings in the parlor. He watched Ashton
with catlike closeness when Isobel was present, and seemed puzzled
that the interloper refrained from courting her.

"Don't savvy that tenderfoot," he remarked one day to Knowles. "All
his talk about his dad being a multimillionaire--Acted like it at