“Aire them plug-uglies two o’ ther gang thet put ye in ther b’ar-trap, Golightly, and run off with ther buckboard?” asked the trapper. “Faith, they look like ut,” answered the Irishman. “They didn’t shtop t’ tell us whoy they took th’ buckboard.” “Nary, they didn’t,” chuckled Nomad. “Mebbyso they’ll send their explanations by mail. Let’s see what ther young woman has ter tell us. What did ye say her name was.” “Dell av th’ Double D Ranch.” “Dell, hey? Ain’t thar nothin’ more to et?” “Dauntless, Dell Dauntless, Oi belave, is her full name, but nobody iver calls her that. F’r ivery wan in these parts she’s Dell--Dell av’ th’ Double D.” Nomad, after watching the two masked men disappear in the gulch, had turned his horse the other way. “Dell Dauntless,” he muttered, his eyes on the girl as she came riding back on her white cayuse. “Waal, thet’s er great name. Et somehow tickles my fancy like, an’ appeals ter my imagination. Et makes Dauntless Dell, when ye turns et front-end to, an’ shore stacks up ther clear quill. Ther name’s purty, an’ ther gal thet wears et is ther same. She looks like she was got up ter play ther star part in ‘Ther Cowboy’s Pride,’ er some other mellerdrammer with lots er blue fire and trembly music. Mebbyso ther name’s er false alarm, an’ thet war-rig o’ her’n is on’y fer looks.” “Arrah, ye’re wrong!” declared Golightly; “they do be sayin’ Dell av th’ Double D is nervier than any mon in these parts. She can hit a squirrel in th’ eye as far as she can git a sight av him, an’ she can shtand aff twinty feet an’ throw th’ p’int av a bowie through anny pip ye name in a playin’-card.” “Waugh! Ye’re gittin’ me plum inter_est_ed; but go lightly, will ye, ef thet’s yer name. What ye tell me is more’n ary woman kin do.” “Yez don’t know Dell av th’ Double D,” muttered Golightly. As she came loping easily toward the trapper and the Irishman, perfect mistress of her horse and her lithe body swaying rhythmically in the saddle, the girl was certainly a “picture.” Nomad, who cared little for the sex feminine, felt a mighty stirring of admiration in his old heart. Certainly, Dell of the Double D appealed to his admiration for the picturesque. The girl could not have been more than nineteen or twenty years of age, and that she was athletic by training and temperament was manifest in every graceful move. Her blouselike waist was of softest doeskin, fringed and beaded and secured about her trim waist by a carved Mexican belt, from which depended an ornate knife-sheath, showing the pearl handle of a bowie; her short skirt was of buckskin, likewise fringed and beaded; below the skirt’s edge were laced tan leggings, and below the leggings were small russet shoes, with silver spurs at the heels. Her hat was a rakish brown sombrero. Her riding gear was decorated with silver trimmings, which dazzlingly reflected the sun. The cayuse, white and pink-nosed, was as smooth as satin.