sk me to quit now," he grinned. And
now he looked at her fairly, holding her gaze, his eyes glowing. "But as
for bein' range boss--" He paused, and a subtle gleam joined the glow in
his eyes. "There's a better job--that I'm goin' to ask you for--some day.
Don't you think that I ought to be promoted, ma'am?"

She wheeled her pony, blushing, and began to ride toward the ranchhouse.
But he urged Patches beside her, and, reaching out, he captured the hand
nearest him. And in this manner they rode on--he holding the hand, a
thrilling exultation in his heart, she with averted head and downcast
eyes, filled with a deep wonder over the new sensation that had come to
her.

Uncle Jepson, in the doorway of the house, eagerly watching for the
girl's return, saw them coming. Stealthily he closed the door and slipped
out into the kitchen, where Aunt Martha was at work.

"Women is mighty uncertain critters, ain't they, Ma?" he said, shaking
his head as though puzzled over a feminine trait that had, heretofore,
escaped his notice. "I cal'late they never know what they're goin' to do
next."

Aunt Martha looked at him over the rims of her spectacles, wonderment in
her gaze--perhaps a little belligerence.

"Jep Coakley," she said severely, "you're always runnin' down the women!
What on earth do you live with one for? What are the women doin' now,
that you are botherin' so much about?"

He gravely took her by the arm and pointed out of a window, from which
Ruth and Randerson could be seen.

Aunt Martha looked, long and intently. And when she finally turned to
Uncle Jepson, her face was radiant, and she opened her arms to him.

"Oh, Jep!" she exclaimed lowly, "ain't that wonderful!"

"I cal'late I've been expectin' it," he observed.

CHAPTER XXV

A MAN IS BORN AGAIN

The meeting between Catherson and Randerson had taken the edge off
Catherson's frenzy, but it had not shaken his determination. He had been
in the grip of an insane wrath when he had gone to see the Flying W range
boss. His passions had ruled him, momentarily. He had subdued them,
checked them; they were held in the clutch of his will as he rode the
Lazette trail. He did not travel fast, but carefully. There was something
in the pony's gait that suggested the mood of his rider--a certain
doggedness of movement and demeanor which might have meant that the
animal knew his rider's thoughts and was in s