ile of empty cans, symbol of the arid lands, lay
beside the path. He picked up one and put it on a post. Then he stepped
off fifteen paces.

"Ventilate it," he ordered.

The boy drew his revolver, took a long, steady aim, and fired. The
bullet whistled past across the prairie. His second shot scored a clean
hit. With pardonable pride he turned to the cattleman.

"Set up another can," commanded Wadley.

From the pile of empties the young man picked another and put it on the
post. Wadley, known in Texas as a two-gun man, flashed into sight a pair
of revolvers almost quicker than the eye could follow. Both shots came
instantly and together. The cattleman had fired from the hips. Before
the can had reached the ground the weapons barked again.

Ridley ran forward and picked up the can. It was torn and twisted with
jagged holes, but the evidence was written there that all four bullets
had pierced the tin. The Easterner could hardly believe his eyes. Such
shooting was almost beyond human skill.

The owner of the A T O thrust into place his two forty-fives.

"If you're goin' to wear six-shooters, learn to use 'em, son. If you
don't, some bad-man is liable to bump you off for practice."

As the two men stepped around the corner of the house a girl came down
the steps of the porch. She was dressed in summer white, but she herself
was spring. Slim and lissome, the dew of childhood was still on her
lips, and the mist of it in her eyes. But when she slanted her long
lashes toward Arthur Ridley, it was not the child that peeped shyly and
eagerly out from beneath them. Her heart was answering the world-old
call of youth to youth.

"I'm going downtown, Dad," she announced.

Ridley stepped forward and lifted his hat. "May I walk with you, Miss
Ramona?"

"Stop at the post-office and see if the buckboard driver is in with the
mail, 'Mona," her father said.

The boy and the girl made a couple to catch and hold the eye.

They went down the street together chattering gayly. One of the things
young Ridley knew how to do well was to make himself agreeable to girls.
He could talk nonsense charmingly and could hold his own in the jolly
give-and-take of repartee. His good looks were a help. So too was the
little touch of affectionate deference he used. He had the gift of being
bold without being too bold.

It was a beautiful morning and life sang in the blood of Ramona. It
seemed to her companion that the warm sun caressed the li