Pickles was at the table in a moment. "Betcher life he does," he agreed. "You don’t want a boy, anyhow. I ’d have a girl if I was you. Say, Buck," he informed between bites, "I seen Ned an’ he says that d—n bull’s broke out again. He ’s gone after him. An’ Cock Murray says: Can you lend him a hat. That wall-eyed pinto o’ his made b— out o’ his ’n." "You young scallywag! You must n’t swear afore a lady—not never. An’ you must talk polite, besides. Don’t you never forget it." Pickles looked straight into Buck’s stern eyes, without fear. "I won’t," he promised, earnestly. "Gosh! I ’m hungry," and he proceeded to prove it. And Rose knew then that Pickles would grow up a "strong man"—and a good man, after the ideas of M’sieu Peters, which, she had become convinced, were very good ideas, indeed. Pickles had long since departed with a hat for the far-distant Murray; the boys had straggled in and gone again from the bunk-house, where Jake ministered to their amazing appetites; and the afternoon sun was casting shadows of warning before Rose remembered the long ride home which was to come. A silence, longer than usual, had fallen upon them, which neither seemed to find embarrassing. Buck’s inscrutable face, as he looked upon her, told nothing of his thoughts; but on hers was a soft wistfulness that surely sprang from pleasant imaginings. She pushed back her chair at last with a murmur of regret. Jake was glad to hear it. He had begun to have anxious misgivings regarding his job. Buck glanced through the window and really saw the outside world for the first time in two hours. He sprang to his feet and exclaimed in bewilderment. "First time in my life I ever did it," he declared. Rose looked an inquiry. "First time th’ sun ever stole a march on me that way," he explained. "Reckon I must a’ been some interested in your talk, ma’am," and his humorous smile was deliciously boyish. The sparkle in her eyes and the flush on her cheeks told that Rose discerned a compliment higher than the spoken one. She began to draw on her thick man’s gloves with an air almost demure. "It is very selfish that I have make you waste so much time, M’sieu Peters," she apologized, her eyes intent upon the gloves. Buck stared. There was a certain grimness in his humor as he answered: "Hm! Well, I ’m a-goin’ to waste some more. That is, I will if you don’t run away from Allday. He ’s good, but that black o’ yourn has got th’ laigs of him, I reckon." She watched him as he strode away for the horses, deciding how best to approach the object of her visit. True to her nature it was less an approach than a direct appeal. As they set off together she spoke abruptly: "What time did you see Tex Ewalt last? I think—I am sure—it is better if you have not see him for a long time—so." "Well, I ain’t seen him in a long time." He was plainly surprised. "Do you know Tex?" he asked, wonderingly.