cattleman, McGuire managed to
tumble into his clothes. Then Raidler took him by the collar and
shoved him out and across the yard to the extra pony hitched at the
gate. The cow-punchers lolled in their saddles, open-mouthed.

"Take this man," said Raidler to Ross Hargis, "and put him to work.
Make him work hard, sleep hard, and eat hard. You boys know I done
what I could for him, and he was welcome. Yesterday the best doctor in
San Antone examined him, and says he's got the lungs of a burro and
the constitution of a steer. You know what to do with him, Ross."

Ross Hargis only smiled grimly.

"Aw," said McGuire, looking intently at Raidler, with a peculiar
expression upon his face, "the croaker said I was all right, did he?
Said I was fakin', did he? You put him onto me. You t'ought I wasn't
sick. You said I was a liar. Say, friend, I talked rough, I know, but
I didn't mean most of it. If you felt like I did--aw! I forgot--I
ain't sick, the croaker says. Well, friend, now I'll go work for yer.
Here's where you play even."

He sprang into the saddle easily as a bird, got the quirt from the
horn, and gave his pony a slash with it. "Cricket," who once brought
in Good Boy by a neck at Hawthorne--and a 10 to 1 shot--had his foot
in the stirrups again.

McGuire led the cavalcade as they dashed away for San Carlos, and the
cow-punchers gave a yell of applause as they closed in behind his
dust.

But in less than a mile he had lagged to the rear, and was last man
when they struck the patch of high chaparral below the horse pens.
Behind a clump of this he drew rein, and held a handkerchief to his
mouth. He took it away drenched with bright, arterial blood, and threw
it carefully into a clump of prickly pear. Then he slashed with his
quirt again, gasped "G'wan" to his astonished pony, and galloped after
the gang.

That night Raidler received a message from his old home in Alabama.
There had been a death in the family; an estate was to divide, and
they called for him to come. Daylight found him in the buckboard,
skimming the prairies for the station. It was two months before he
returned. When he arrived at the ranch house he found it well-nigh
deserted save for Ylario, who acted as a kind of steward during his
absence. Little by little the youth made him acquainted with the work
done while he was away. The branding camp, he was informed, was still
doing business. On account of many severe storms the cattle had been
badly