he said disbelievingly. "Do you think you can make me swallow that?"

Bud looked at her inquiringly, which forced her to go on.

"You must know about Catrock Canyon, Bud Birnie. Don't try to make me
believe you don't."

"I don't. I never heard of it before that I remember. What is it makes
you want to explore it?"

Honey studied him. "You're the queerest specimen I ever did see," she
exclaimed pettishly. "Why, it's not going to hurt you to admit you know
Catrock Canyon is--unexplorable."

"Oh. So you want to explore it because it's unexplorable. Well, why is
it unexplorable?"

Honey looked around her at the dry sageland they were crossing. "Oh, you
make me TIRED!" she said bluntly, with something of the range roughness
in her voice. "Because it is, that's all."

"Then I'd like to explore it myself," Bud declared.

"For one thing," Honey dilated, "there's no way to get in there. Up on
the ridge this side, where the rock is that throws a shadow like a cat's
head on the opposite wall, you can look down a ways. But the two sides
come so close together at the top that you can't see the bottom of the
canyon at all. I've been on the ridge where I could see the cat's head."

Bud glanced speculatively up at the sun, and Honey, catching his
meaning, shook her head and smiled.

"If we get into the Sinks and back to-day, they will do enough talking
about it; or Uncle Dave will, and Marian. I--I thought perhaps you'd be
able to tell me about--Catrock Canyon."

"I'm able to say I don't know a thing about it. If no one can get into
it, I should think that's about all, isn't it?"

"Yes--you'd think so," Honey agreed enigmatically, and began to talk
of the racing that day, and of the dance, and of other dances and other
races yet to come. Bud discussed these subjects for a while and then
asked boldly, "When's Lew coming back?"

"Lew?" Honey shot a swift glance at him. "Why?" She looked ahead at the
forbidding, craggy hills toward which she had glanced when she spoke of
Catrock. "Why, I don't know. How should I?"

Bud saw that he had spoken unwisely. "I was thinking he'd maybe hate
to miss another running match like to-day," he explained guilelessly.
"Everybody and his dog seemed to be there to-day, and everybody had
money up. All," he modified, "except the Muleshoe boys. I didn't see any
of them."

"You won't," Honey told him with some emphasis. "Uncle Dave and the
Muleshoe are on the outs. They never come around excep