“No, and there ain’t much use lookin’ fer him now; but it would a-made you-all feel easier,” replied the man. “Why isn’t there any use looking for him now?” she demanded. “Because the Boss kin take keer of himself. He ain’t a-goin’ to thank us none, I’m figgerin’.” “No, if he’s all right, he won’t; but if he isn’t all right we’ll be glad we did.” “Them hosses must a-gone plumb to the fer end of the pasture,” remarked Kreff. “They always do, if we’re in a particular hurry to get them up,” said Wichita. The other men had come from the bunk house by now and were standing around waiting. “Thet dog-gone ‘cavvy’ must a-knowed we wanted ’em bad,” said one. “Like as not they seed Luke comin’ an’ hid out in the willows,” suggested another. “They shore are an ornery bunch,” admitted a third. “I could of ridden down there backwards on a bicycle an’ rounded ’em up before this,” boasted a fourth. “Here they come now,” exclaimed Wichita, as several horses broke from the willows and trotted toward the corrals. In twos and threes they emerged from the dense foliage until some forty or fifty horses were strung out on the trail to the corrals, and then Luke Jensen rode into sight from out the willows. “What’s thet critter he’s leadin’?” demanded one of the men. “It’s saddled,” volunteered another. “It’s Scar Foot,” said Kreff. After that there was silence. Some of the men glanced at Wichita; but most of them stood looking away, embarrassed. Scar Foot was Billings’ favorite horse—the animal he had ridden out on the previous day. The men walked out of the corral into the pasture to head the horses through the bars that had been let down to receive them. No one said anything. Kreff walked forward toward Luke; and the latter reined in and, leaning down, spoke to the foreman in a low voice. Wichita approached them. “Where did you find Scar Foot?” she asked. “Where is Dad?” “Scar Foot was jest outside the east gate, Miss,” explained Jensen. “The other hosses was all up there by him, jest inside the fence.” “Did you see anything of Dad?” she demanded again. “We-all’s goin’ to ride right out an’ look fer him, Miss,” said Kreff. Inside the corral two men were roping, and the others were busy saddling their horses as they were caught. Wichita climbed to the top of the corral. “I’ll ride Two Spot,” she called to one of the ropers. Finally all the horses they needed had been caught and the others turned back into the pasture. One of the men who had been among the first to saddle was saddling Two Spot for Wichita. Luke Jensen, who had transferred his outfit to one of his own string, kept as far from Wichita as he could; but as she was about to mount, Kreff approached her, leading his own horse. “I wouldn’t come along, Miss, ef I was you,” he advised. “We may have some hard ridin’.” “When did I get so I couldn’t ride with any of you?” she asked, quietly. “There may be some fightin’,” he insisted, “an’ I wouldn’t want you-all to get hurted.”