right along?"

"Sure am. I saved some money, you know. And what's the use to hoard it?
I'll buy cheap. In five years I'll have five hundred, maybe a thousand
head. Wade, my old dad will be pleased to find out I've made the start
I have."

"Well, it's a fine start, I'll allow. Have you picked up any unbranded
stock?"

"Sure I have. Say, pard, are you worrying about this two-bit rustler
work that's been going on?"

"Wils, it ain't two bits any more. I reckon it's gettin' into the
four-bit class."

"I've been careful to have my business transactions all in writing,"
said Moore. "It makes these fellows sore, because some of them can't
write. And they're not used to it. But I'm starting this game in my
own way."

"Have you sold any stock?"

"Not yet. But the Andrews boys are driving some thirty-odd head to
Kremmling for me to be sold."

"Ahuh! Well, I'll be goin'," Wade replied, and it was significant of his
state of mind that he left his young friend sorely puzzled. Not that
Wade did not see Moore's anxiety! But the drift of events at White
Slides had passed beyond the stage where sympathetic and inspiring hope
might serve Wade's purpose. Besides, his mood was gradually changing as
these events, like many fibers of a web, gradually closed in toward a
culminating knot.

That night Wade lounged with the cowboys and new hands in front of the
little storehouse where Belllounds kept supplies for all. He had lounged
there before in the expectation of seeing the rancher's son. And this
time anticipation was verified. Jack Belllounds swaggered over from the
ranch-house. He met civility and obedience now where formerly he had
earned but ridicule and opposition. So long as he worked hard himself
the cowboys endured. The subtle change in him seemed of sterner stuff.
The talk, as usual, centered round the stock subjects and the banter and
gossip of ranch-hands. Wade selected an interval when there was a lull
in the conversation, and with eyes that burned under the shadow of his
broad-brimmed sombrero he watched the son of Belllounds.

"Say, boys, Wils Moore has begun sellin' cattle," remarked Wade,
casually. "The Andrews brothers are drivin' for him."

"Wal, so Wils's spread-eaglin' into a real rancher!" ejaculated Lem
Billings. "Mighty glad to hear it. Thet boy shore will git rich."

Wade's remark incited no further expressions of interest. But it was
Jack Belllounds's secret mind that Wade wished to pierce. He saw the