years. The herd of our friend grew very
rapidly. He sold just enough cattle to keep himself and his wife
alive; he was bent on making one big haul, you see. So when his
doggies got to the right age and condition for the market, he'd trade
them off, one fat doggie for two or three skinny yearlings. But
finally he had a really big herd together, and shipped it off to the
market on a year when the price was sky-high."

"Like this year?"

"Don't interrupt me, Jack!"

From the shadow behind him she smiled again.

"They went at a corking price, and our friend cleared up a good many
thousand--I won't say just how much. He sank part of it in a ruby
brooch for his wife, and shoved the rest into a satchel.

"You see how careful he'd been all those years while he was piling up
his fortune? Well, he began to get careless the moment he cashed in,
which was rather odd. He depended on his fighting power to keep that
money safe, but he forgot that while he'd been making a business of
rustling doggies and watching cattle markets, other men had been making
a business of shooting fast and straight.

"Among others there was the silent man who'd watched and waited for so
long. But this silent man hove alongside while our rich friend was
bound home in a buckboard.

"'Good evening!' he called.

"The rich chap turned and heard; it all seemed all right, but he'd done
a good deal of shady business in his day, and that made him suspicious
of the silent man now. So he reached for his gun and got it out just
in time to be shot cleanly through the hand.

"The silent man tied up that hand and sympathized with the rich chap;
then he took that satchel and divided the paper money into two bundles.
One was twice the size of the other, and the silent man took the
smaller one. There was only twelve thousand dollars in it. Also, he
took the ruby brooch for a friend--and as a sort of keepsake, you know.
And he delivered a short lecture to the rich man on the subject of
carelessness and rode away. The rich man picked up his gun with his
left hand and opened fire, but he'd never learned to shoot very well
with that hand, so the silent man came through safe."

"That's a bully story," said Jack. "Who was the silent man?"

"I think you've seen him a few times, at that."

She concealed another smile, and said in the most businesslike manner:
"Chow-time, Pierre," and set out the pans on the table.

"By the way," he said easily, "I've g