Jumped?" repeated Miss Kitty, mystified. "Oh, is that one of your
cowboy words? Tell me what it means!"

"W'y, it means," drawled Creede, "that two young fellers like me and
Rufe goes out to ride the range and when we come back some other
outfit has moved into our happy home and we're orphans. We've been
havin' a little trouble with the sheep lately, and when I heard them
pots and kittles rattlin' around in here I thought for sure some
Mormon sheepman had got the jump on us and located the ranch."

"And what would you have done if he had?" continued Kitty eagerly.
"Would you have shot him with that big pistol?" She pointed to the
heavy Colt's which Creede had slung on his hip.

But this was getting too romantic and Western, even for Jeff. "No,
ma'am," he said modestly. "We just carry that to balance us in the
saddle."

"Oh!" exclaimed Kitty, disappointed, "and didn't you ever shoot
_anybody_?"

Creede blushed for her, in spite of himself. "Well," he replied
evasively, "I don't know how it would be up where you come from, but
that's kind of a leadin' question, ain't it?"

"Oh, you have, then!" exclaimed Kitty Bonnair ecstatically. "Oh, I'm
so glad to see a really, truly cowboy!" She paused, and gazed up at
him soulfully. "Won't you let me have it for a minute?" she pleaded,
and with a sheepish grin Creede handed over his gun.

But if there had been another cowboy within a mile he would have
hesitated, infatuated as he was. Every land has its symbolism and
though the language of flowers has not struck root in the cow
country--nor yet the amorous Mexican system of "playing the bear"--to
give up one's pistol to a lady is the sign and token of surrender.
However, though it brought the sweat to his brow, the byplay was
pulled off unnoticed, Hardy and Lucy Ware being likewise deep in
confidences.

"How strange you look, Rufus!" exclaimed Lucy, as Kitty Bonnair began
her assault upon the happiness of Jefferson Creede. "What have you
been doing to yourself in these two years?"

"Why, nothing," protested Hardy, a little wan from his encounter with
Kitty. "Perhaps you have forgotten how I used to look--our hair gets
pretty long up here," he added apologetically, "but--"

"No," said Lucy firmly. "It isn't a matter of hair, although I will
admit I hardly knew you. It's in your eyes; and you have some stern,
hard lines about your mouth, too. Father says you spend all your time
trying to keep the sheep out--and he's very