hed the way in which
the ranch had been sold to him. And the girl, though she knew little
enough about business methods, was startled to learn how these two men
trusted each other. She recalled what Carr had said; between him and
Howard a deal involving many thousands of dollars was as simple a
matter as the sale of a horse. The two, riding together, had in a few
words agreed upon price and terms. They had returned to the house and
Howard had written a cheque for seven thousand dollars as first
payment; all of his ready cash, he admitted freely, saving what he must
keep on hand for ranch manipulation. There was no deed given, no deed
of trust, no mortgage. It was understood that Howard should pay
certain sums at certain specified dates; each man had jotted down his
memoranda in his own hand; the deal was made.

'But,' gasped Helen, 'if anything unforeseen should happen? If--if he
should die? Or you? If----'

'In any case there would be one of us left, wouldn't there?' he
countered in his off-hand way. 'Unless we both went out, and then what
difference? He has no one to look out for; neither have I. Besides,'
he laughed carelessly, 'John and I both plan on being on the job a good
fifty years from now. Come out here and I'll show you a real horse.'

She went with him to the porch. Carr was leaving the stable, riding
Bel. Helen knew little enough of horseflesh and yet she understood
that here was an animal to catch anyone's eye; yes, and Carr, sitting
massive and stalwart in the saddle, was a man to hold any woman's. The
horse was a big, bright bay; mane and tail were like fine gold; the sun
winked back from them and from the glorious reddish hide. Carr saw
them and waved his hat; Bel danced sideways and whirled, and for an
instant stood upon his rear legs, his thin, aristocratic forelegs
flaying the air. Then came Carr's deep bass laugh; the polished hoofs
struck the ground and they were off, flashing away across the
meadowlands.

'Some day,' said Helen, her eyes sparkling, 'I want to ride a horse
like that!' She turned to him, asking eagerly, 'Could I learn?'

'If with all my heart I wanted to be a first-rate Philadelphia lawyer
or a third-rate San Francisco politician,' he announced with that
sweeping positiveness which was one of his characteristics, 'I'd
consider the job done to start with! All you've got to do is to want a
thing, want it hard, and it's as good as yours. Now, to begin with,