of open skepticism. "Who owns the Y Bar,
now?"

"Same man that's owned it for the last twenty years--Mr. Colston."

"You must know him pretty well if you're his foreman?"

"Tolerable," answered the man, "I've been with him most every day for a
year."

A swift smile curved the red lips--a smile that hinted of craft rather
than levity. "I wonder what's worrying him most, nowadays--Mr. Colston,
I mean."

"Worryin' him?" The Texan's eyes twinkled. "Well, a man runnin' an
outfit like the Y Bar has got plenty on his mind, but the only thing
that right down worries him is the hair on his head--an' just between
you an' me, he ain't goin' to have to worry long."

The air of reserve--of veiled hostility dropped from the girl like a
mask, and she laughed--a spontaneous outburst of mirth that kindled new
lights in the blue-black eyes, and caused a fanlike array of little
wrinkles to radiate from their corners: "I'll answer your question now,"
she said. "I'm Mrs. Nobody, thank you--I'm Janet McWhorter. But what
are you doing on this side of the river? And how's Mr. Colston?"

"He's just the finest ever," replied the cowboy, and the girl was quick
to note the deep feeling behind the words. "An' I--two of us--were
tryin' to cross on the Long Bill's ferry from Timber City, an' the drift
piled up again' us so we had to cut the cable, an' we got throw'd into
shore against the bench three or four miles above here."

"Where's your friend? Is he hurt?" Her eyes rested with a puzzled
expression upon the edge of the white bandage that showed beneath the
brim of his hat.

The Texan shook his head: "No, not hurt I reckon. Just plumb wore out,
an' layin' asleep on the bank. I've got to go back."

"You'll need two horses."

The man shook his head: "No, only one. We had our horses with us. We
lost one in the river, an' the other pulled us ashore, an' then beat it
up the coulee. I can catch him up all right, if I can get holt of a
horse."

"Of course you can have a horse! But, you must eat first----"

"I can't stop. There'll be time for that later. I'm goin' to bring--my
friend back here."

"Of course you're going to bring him back here! But you are about all in
yourself. Three or four miles through the mud and across the coulees in
high-heeled boots, and with your head hurt, and sopping wet, and no
breakfast, and--I bet you haven't even had a smoke! Come on, you can eat
a bite while I fix up something for your friend, and then yo