a horse was just the flimsiest kind of an excuse to steal one."

"You don't know, yet--for sure."

The girl laughed: "Oh, yes I do. I didn't think you were, when I told
you that this was McWhorter's ranch. The name didn't mean anything to
you, and if you were a horse-thief, it would have meant 'hands off.'
Then, to make sure, I asked you what Mr. Colston's chief worry was? You
see if you were a horse-thief you might know Y Bar, but you'd hardly
know him well enough to know about how he fusses over that little bald
spot."

Tex laughed: "Little bald spot just about reaches his ears now. Top of
his head looks like a sheep range."

"There you go," flashed the girl, "you mighty cattlemen always poking
fun at the sheep. We can't help it if the sheep eat the grass short.
They've got just as much right to eat as the cattle have--and a good
deal better right than your old horse-thieves that you all stick up
for!"

The Texan regarded her with twinkling eyes: "First thing we know, we'll
be startin' a brand new sheep an' cattle war, an' most likely we'd both
get exterminated."

Janet laughed, and as the horses plodded across the sodden range with
the man slightly in advance, she watched him out of the corner of her
eye. "He's got a sense of humour," she thought, "and, he's, somehow,
different from most cowboys--and, he's the best looking thing." Then her
eyes strayed to the bandage about his head and her brows drew into a
puzzled frown.

They had dipped down into a wide coulee, and the Texan jerked his horse
to a stand, swung to the ground, and leaned over to examine some tracks
in the mud.

"Are they fresh?" asked the girl. "Is it your horse?"

A moment of silence followed, while the man studied the tracks. Then he
looked up: "Yes," he answered, "it's his tracks, all right. An' there's
another horse with him. They're headin' for the bad lands." He swung
into the saddle and started down the coulee at a gallop, with the bay
mare pounding along in his wake.

The little plateau where he had left Alice Endicott was deserted!
Throwing himself from the saddle, the Texan carefully examined the
ground. Here also, were the tracks of the two horses he had seen farther
up the coulee, and mingled with the horse tracks were the tracks of
high-heeled boots. The man faced the girl who still sat her bay mare,
and pointed to the tracks on the ground. "Someone's be'n here," he said,
in a low, tense voice.

"Maybe your partner woke up