nchanted
mesa Rutherford Wadley descended to a valley draw in which were huddled
a score of Mexican _jacals_, huts built of stakes stuck in a trench,
roofed with sod and floored with mud. Beyond these was a more
pretentious house. Originally it had been a log "hogan," but a large
adobe addition had been constructed for a store. Inside this the dance
was being held.

Light filtered through the chinks in the mud. From door and windows came
the sounds of scraping fiddles and stamping feet. The singsong voice of
the caller and the occasional whoop of a cowboy punctuated the medley of
noises.

A man whose girth would have put Falstaff to shame greeted Rutherford
wheezily. "Fall off and 'light, Ford. She's in full swing and the
bridle's off."

The man was Jumbo Wilkins, line-rider for the A T O.

Young Wadley swung to the ground. He did not trouble to answer his
father's employee. It was in little ways like this that he endeared
himself to those at hand, and it was just this spirit that the
democratic West would not tolerate. While the rider was tying his horse
to the hitch-rack, Jumbo Wilkins, who was a friendly soul, made another
try at conversation.

"Glad you got an invite. Old man Cobb hadn't room for everybody, so he
didn't make his bid wide open."

The young man jingled up the steps. "That so? Well, I didn't get an
invite, as you call it. But I'm here." He contrived to say it so
offensively that Jumbo flushed with anger.

Wadley sauntered into the room and stood for a moment by the door. His
trim, graceful figure and dark good looks made him at once a focus of
eyes. Nonchalantly he sunned himself in the limelight, with that little
touch of swagger that captures the imagination of girls. No man in the
cow-country dressed like Rutherford Wadley. In the kingdom of the blind
the one-eyed are kings, and to these frontier women this young fellow
was a glass of fashion. There was about him, too, a certain dash, a
spice of the devil more desirable in a breaker of hearts than any mere
beauty.

His bold, possessive eyes ranged over the room to claim what they might
desire. He had come to the dance at Tomichi Creek to make love to Tony
Alviro's betrothed sweetheart Bonita.

She was in the far corner with her little court about her. If Bonita
was a flirt, it must be admitted she was a charming one. No girl within
a day's ride was so courted as she. Compact of fire and passion,
brimming with life and health, she drew m