ould
be a mere waste of time and words now that his business was done, and
swinging his horse about raked it with his spurs and galloped back
toward the Echo Creek. Wayne Shandon, suddenly a little thoughtful,
turned and went to the stable. Little Saxon jerked up his head and
looked at his master with glaring, untamed eyes.

"We've got to get busy, Little Saxon," he said, looking with critical
eyes at the lithe, powerful, rebellious body.

"Say, Red! Ain't you on to his game?" Shandon had not noticed that
Willie Dart was anywhere near, but was hardly surprised when the little
man popped up, wild eyed and excited. "Once you get your cash down
he's going to put you out of the running! That guy'd put ground glass
in a baby's milk bottle for the price of a beer. Gee, Red. You sure
enough do need a keeper!"

Which position Willie Dart was already seeking manfully to fill.

CHAPTER XIV

IN WANDA'S CAVE

Willie Dart's sunny nature seemed to grow ever brighter as the days
wore on. Once or twice he sighed at Wayne Shandon's failure to respond
to his levities; and when he felt particularly unappreciated he carried
his dimpling personality to the bunk house where he was hailed with
delight. When a flask that had come in with Long Steve, who had made a
brief trip to the outer world, disappeared before that joyous gentleman
had consumed half of the potent contents, and when later the empty
flask was found in the covers of Emmet's bunk, Willie Dart looked on
with sorrowful, innocent eyes while Steve and Emmet resorted to
physical argument. When a game of crib was being played while half a
dozen men looked on, and a portion of the deck vanished, only to turn
up ten minutes later in the hip pocket of Tony Harris, who had not once
been near the table and was most thoroughly mystified, no one thought
of blaming the cheerful Mr. Dart. It was only when he offered
privately to collect for Big Bill a debt of six bits long owing to him
from Dave Platt that the real gift of those wonderful hands of his
began to be at all apparent.

Then, too, the method of his progress over the range was another source
of unfailing delight and unbounded admiration. He had ridden a horse
to the Bar L-M, but no man of them ever saw his little legs astride a
horse again. He found, back of the blacksmith shop, the wreck of an
old cart which years ago had been used for breaking colts; he
improvised shafts and seat; he discovered the enc