as,
galloping on to the wagon. There he unsaddled his horse and turned it
to graze, setting about immediately to get his dinner. Mackenzie
waited for a summons when the meal was ready, but received none.
Presently he saw that Reid had no intention of calling him in, for he
was sitting down selfishly alone.

Mackenzie determined there was not going to be any avoidance on his
part. If unpleasantness must rise between them Reid would be the one
to set it stewing, and it looked from a distance as if this were his
intention. Mackenzie went to camp, his coat on his arm.

Reid had finished his dinner when Mackenzie arrived. He was sitting in
the shade of some low bushes, his hat on the ground, smoking a
cigarette. He looked up at the sound of Mackenzie's approach, smiling
a little, waving his cigarette in greeting.

"Hello, Jacob," he said.

Mackenzie felt the hot blood rush to his face, but choked down
whatever hot words rose with it. But he could not suppress the
indignation, the surprise, that came with the derisive hail. It seemed
that the range, vast, silent, selfish, melancholy as it was, could not
keep a secret. What did Reid know about any Jacob and Rachel romance?
How had he learned of that?

"How're you makin' it, Earl?" Mackenzie returned, pleasantly enough.
And to himself: "He listened, the scoundrel--sneaked up on us and
heard it all!"

"Oh, well enough," said Reid, coughing huskily.

If well enough, a little more of it would do for him, Mackenzie
thought, noting with surprise the change that had come over Reid since
they last met. The improvement that had begun in him during his first
weeks on the range had not continued. Opposed to it, a decline
appeared to have fastened upon him, making his flaccid cheeks thinner,
his weary eyes more tired, his slight frame lighter by many pounds.
Only his voice was unchanged. That was hearty and quick, resonant of
enjoyment in life and a keenness in the pursuits of its pleasures.
Reid's voice was his most valuable possession, Mackenzie knew; it was
the vehicle that had carried him into the graces of many transitory
friends.

"I thought Tim had sent some old taller-heel over to let me off--I
didn't know it was you," said Reid, lying with perfect ease.

"Taller-heel enough, I guess," Mackenzie returned, detached and
inattentive as it seemed, his mind fixed on dinner.

"I didn't think you'd be able to get out so soon from what Dad told
me. Been havin' some trouble w