lves gits a
rope twisted round his stummick an' lastly a mule kicks him into a bunch
of cactus. Whereupon he remarks, 'I don't figger I was calculated for
runnin' a cattle ranch,' sells out an' goes back to herdin' muskeeters
in New Jersey.

"Mormon, you warn't calculated to handle wimmen. This li'l' gel is game
as they make 'em, an' I reckon she's right sweet if she on'y gits a
chance. Leastwise, I see several signs of pay dirt this afternoon an'
evenin' as I reckon Sandy done the same. She's been trailin' her dad all
over hell an' creation, talkin' like him, swearin' like him, actin' like
him. Never see nothin' different. All she needs is a chance."

"What's the idee in pickin' on me?" asked Mormon aggrievedly. "She's as
welcome as grass in spring. They ain't no one got a bigger heart than me
fo' kids."

"No one got a bigger heart, mebbe," said Sam caustically. "Nor none a
smaller brain. All engine an' no gasoline in the tank!"

"She's an orphan," went on Sandy. "She ain't got a cent that I know of.
The claims her old dad mentioned ain't no good because, in the first
place, they'd have been worked if they was; second place, they're over
to Dynamite an' the sharps say Dynamite's a flivver. All she has in
sight is the dawg. Some dawg! Comes in from the desert an' takes us out
to her an' Pat Casey--him dyin'. Ef it hadn't been fo' the dawg, she'd
have stayed there, to my notion. Got some sort of idee she'd deserted
ship ef she hadn't stuck till it was too late fo' her to crawl out of
that slit in the mesa. She's fifteen an' she's got sense. I figger we
better turn in right now an' hold a pow-wow with the gel ter-morrer."

"Second the motion," said Sam.

"Third it," said Mormon.

And the Three Musketeers of the Range went off to bed.

CHAPTER III

MOLLY

Molly came down next morning in the faded blue gingham. Sandy marked how
worn it was and marked an item in his mind--clothes. He smiled at her
with the sudden showing of his sound white teeth that made many friends.
She was much too young, too frank, too like a boy to affect him with any
of his woman-shyness. He did not realize how close she was to womanhood,
seeing only how much she must have missed of real girlhood.

Molly had a snubby nose, a wide mouth, Irish eyes of blue that were far
apart and crystal clear, freckles and a lot of brown hair that she wore
in a long braid wound twice about her well-shaped head. She was a
combination of curves and