that is to say, from Kansas City.

Lida had ceased to protest against the cowboy's attendance and his
love-making, for the good reason that her protests were unavailing. He
declined to take offense, and he would not remain silent. A part of his
devotion was due, of course, to his sense of guilt, and yet this was
only a small part. True, he had sent warnings and dire threats to
silence his band of marauders; but he did not feel keenly enough about
their possible tale-bearing to carry his warnings in person. "I can't
spare the time," he argued, knowing that Lida would be going home in a
few days and that his world would then be blank.

"I lose too much of you," he said to her once; "I can't afford to have
you out of my sight a minute."

She had grown accustomed to such speeches as these, and seldom replied
to them, except to order the speaker about with ever-increasing tyranny.
"You're so anxious to work," she remarked, "I'll let you do a-plenty.
You'll get sick o' me soon."

"Sick of you! Lord heavens! what'll I do when you leave?"

"You'll go back to your ranch. A fine foreman you must be, fooling round
here like a tramp. What does your boss think?"

"Don't know and don't care. Don't care what anybody thinks--but you.
You're my only landmark these days. You're my sun, moon, and stars,
that's what you are. I set my watch by you."

"You're crazy!" she answered, with laughter.

"Sure thing! Locoed, we call it out here. You've got me locoed--you're
my pink poison blossom. There ain't any feed that interests me but you.
I'm lonesome as a snake-bit cow when I can't see you."

"Say, do you know Uncle Dan begins to notice you. He asked me to-day
what you were hanging round here for, and who you were."

"What did you tell him?"

"I told him you were McCoy's hired man just helping me take care of
him."

"That's a lie. I'm _your_ hired man. I'm takin' care of you--willing to
work for a kiss a day."

"You'll not get even that."

"I'm _not_ getting it--yet."

"You'll never get it."

"Don't be too sure of that. My life-work is _collecting_ my dues. I've
got 'em all set down. You owe me a dozen for extra jobs, and a good hug
for overtime."

She smiled derisively, and turned the current. "The meals you eat are
all of a dollar a day."

"They're worth a bushel of diamonds--when you cook 'em. But let me ask
you something--is your old dad as fierce as Uncle Dan?"

She nodded. "You bet he is! He's crusty as old crus