ft the room Miss Isobel smiled and nodded to Ashton. "You see
how friendly he is, in spite of his cold manner to strangers. I
thought he had taken a dislike to you, yet you saw how readily he
offered to go out after your assailant."

"More likely it's because he thinks it would discredit us to let such
a scoundrel get away," differed her father. "However, he'll leave you
alone, Mr. Ashton, if you stay with us as a guest, and will only haze
you a bit, if you insist upon joining our force."

"You mean, working for you? I must insist on that," said Ashton, with
an eager look at the girl. "If only I can do well enough to be
employed right along!"

The cowman grunted, and winked solemnly at his daughter. "Yes, I can
understand your feeling that way. How about the winter, though? You
mayn't like it over here so well then."

Ashton flushed and laughed at the older man's shrewdness; hesitated,
and confessed candidly: "No, I should prefer Denver in winter."

Miss Isobel blushed in adorable payment of his compliment, but thrust
back at him: "We bar cowboys in the Sacred Thirty-six."

He winced. Her stroke had pierced into his raw wound.

"Oh!--oh!" she breathlessly exclaimed. "I didn't mean to--Oh, I'm so
sorry!"

He dashed the tears from his eyes. "No, you--don't apologize! It's
only that I'm--Please don't fancy I'm a baby! You see, when a fellow
has always lived high--on top, you know--and then to have everything
go out from under him without warning!"

"Keep a stiff upper lip, son," advised Knowles. "You'll pull through
all right. It isn't everyone in your fix that would be asking for
work."

Ashton laughed a trifle unsteadily. "It's very kind of you to say
that, Mr. Knowles. I--I wish a steady position, winter as well as
summer."

"How about Denver?" asked Knowles.

"That can wait," replied Ashton. He met the girl's smile of approval,
and rallied fully. "Yes, that can wait--and so can I."

Again the girl blushed, but she found a bantering rejoinder: "With you
and Kid and Daddy all waiting for me to come home, I suppose I'll have
to cut the season short."

"The winters here are like those you read about up at the North
Pole," the cowman informed Ashton. "But we get our sunshine back along
in the spring."

"Oh, Daddy! you're a poet!" cried his daughter, flinging her arm
around his sunburnt neck.

"Wish I were one!" enviously sighed Ashton. The cowman gave him a look
that brought him to his feet. "Mr. Knowl