savory reputation, Dakota appears to be the only _man_ here!"

She took up the reins and urged her pony away from the butte and toward
the level that stretched away to the Double R buildings in the distance.
For an instant Duncan stood looking after her, his face red with
embarrassment, and then with a puzzled frown he mounted and followed her.

Later he came up with her at the Double R corral gate and resumed the
conversation.

"Then I reckon you ain't got no use for rustlers?" he said.

"Meaning Dakota?" she questioned, a smoldering fire in her eyes.

"I reckon."

"I wish," she said, facing Duncan, her eyes flashing, "that you would kill
him!"

"Why----" said Duncan, changing color.

But Sheila had dismounted and was walking rapidly toward the ranchhouse,
leaving Duncan alone with his unfinished speech and his wonder.

CHAPTER V

DAKOTA EVENS A SCORE

With the thermometer at one hundred and five it was not to be expected
that there would be much movement in Lazette. As a matter of fact, there
was little movement anywhere. On the plains, which began at the edge of
town, there was no movement, no life except when a lizard, seeking a
retreat from the blistering sun, removed itself to a deeper shade under
the leaves of the sage-brush, or a prairie-dog, popping its head above the
surface of the sand, took a lightning survey of its surroundings, and
apparently dissatisfied with the outlook whisked back into the bowels of
the earth.

There was no wind, no motion; the little whirlwinds of dust that arose
settled quickly down, the desultory breezes which had caused them
departing as mysteriously as they had come. In the blighting heat the
country lay, dead, spreading to the infinite horizons; in the sky no speck
floated against the dome of blue. More desolate than a derelict on the
calm surface of the trackless ocean Lazette lay, its huddled buildings
dingy with the dust of a continuing dry season, squatting in their dismal
lonesomeness in the shimmering, blinding sun.

In a strip of shade under the eaves of the station sat the station agent,
gazing drowsily from under the wide brim of his hat at the two glistening
lines of steel that stretched into the interminable distance. Some
cowponies, hitched to rails in front of the saloons and the stores, stood
with drooping heads, tormented by myriad flies; a wagon or two, minus
horses, occupied a space in front of a blacksmith shop.

In the Red Dog saloon so