"She must be some corker of a female," muttered Bruce. "What does she
look like, Jim?"

"Tall. Young and not bad looking. Vain as a peacock and high and
mighty."

"That kind of a girl makes me sick," was young Bruce's quick decision.
"Let's ride back, Jim; it'll be time to eat."

As they rode slowly down toward the ranch house Bruce pointed out how,
living in constant expectation of the operations of cattle and horse
thieves, he took what precautions he could. The pick of his saddle
horses, a dozen of them, were grazed during the day in the fields near
the house and at night were brought in and stabled. A number of the
finest cattle, including a thoroughbred Hereford bull and forty
beautiful Hereford cows, recently purchased, were driven each evening
into the nearest fields where from dark to daylight they were herded by
a night rider.

"I've got to take it for granted," explained West, "that at least some
of my vacqueros are on the level. I pick my best men for jobs like
this. And I've always got night riders out, making their rounds from
one end of the valley to the other. On top of all that I've got my
dogs; look, here they come to meet us."

There were ten of them, big tan and white collies, vying with one
another to come first to their master. Splendid animals all of them,
but at the fore ran the most splendid of them all, the father and
patriarch of his flock. It was his keen nostril and eye that was wont
first to know who came; his superb strength and speed carried him well
in the lead and he guarded his supremacy jealously. His sharp teeth
snapped viciously when a hardy son ran close at his side and the
youngster, though he snarled and bristled, swerved widely and thus fell
back. They barked as they swept on, the sharp, stacatto bark of their
breed.

"They're something I can trust," said Bruce proudly. "No hand but mine
feeds them; if I catch a man carressing one of them he draws his pay
and quits. And I go to sleep of nights reasonably sure that their din
will wake me if an outsider sets foot near the home corrals. Hi!
Monarch! Jump for it."

From his pocket he brought out a bit of dried beef, the "jerky" of the
southwest. He held it out arm's length, sending his horse racing
forward with a sudden touch of his spur. The big dog barked eagerly
and launched his sinewy body into the air; the sunlight flashed back a
moment from the bared sharp teeth; Monarch dropped softly back to earth