t-herding the swelling numbers of restless
shorthorns. Howard, having had his supper, his cigarette and his brief
rest, was saddling his fifth horse to take his turn at a four-hour
shift, when he was aware that some one had ridden into camp. And then
came a voice, shouting through the din and the dark:

'Hey, there. Where's Al?'

'Here,' called Howard. 'Who is it?'

'It's me,' and Barbee with jingling spurs came on. 'Special delivery
letter for you, old-timer.'

Letters came rarely to Desert Valley, and Howard expected none. But he
put out his hand eagerly; he had no reason to think such a thing, but
none the less the conviction was upon him that Helen had written him.
His arm through his horse's bridle, he struck a match and took into his
hand a scrap of paper. As his peering eyes made out a sweeping,
familiar scrawl, he felt a disappointment quite as unreasonable as had
been his hope. It was unmistakably from the hand of John Carr, hastily
written in lead pencil upon the inner side of an old envelope and said
briefly:

'Better look out for Courtot, Al. He has left Big Run and is headed
out your way.--JOHN.'

Howard tore the paper to bits.

'Where's Carr?' he asked quietly. 'Gone on back?'

Barbee chuckled softly.

'He was at your place last night, wasn't he? Well, he headed back and
got as far as Big Run. That's where I saw him late this afternoon when
he give me this for you. About that time I guess he changed his mind
about going home and shifted his trail. He's gone up that way.'

The vague sweep of Barbee's arm indicated a wide expanse of country
lying to the north. When Howard was silent, the boy went on lightly
and perhaps a hint maliciously:

'Get me? Gone to see how the professor and his girl are making out.
Keep your eye peeled, Al, or he'll beat you to it. Old John's a sure
heller with the women.'

Howard snapped out a curt admonition to Barbee to mind his own business
and flung himself into the saddle. As he spurred away to the outer
fringe of his herd he was not thinking over-much of Carr's warning;
somehow Barbee's stuck closer in his mind. A spurt of irritation with
himself succeeded that first desire to slap the message-bearer's face.
For he knew within his heart that he resented Carr's making himself at
home at the Longstreet camp, and he knew that to-night he was an
unreasonable beast. Had not Carr once already ridden far out of his
way to warn him? Was there