A demand upon him strong as physical force or a voiced cry caused him to turn and peer into the mouth of a sort of gulch into which the green tailed off. There he saw some one gray-clad, dismounted, waiting—Jane, silently calling him. Spurring to her, he found that the three had thought it advisable to take cover in a small glen, irregularly oval in shape, that would have served excellently as a bull-ring had its granite sides been tiered with seats. Harford and Irene still sat their saddles, the girl holding rein on the horse ridden by Jane, who evidently had reconnoitered that he might not miss them on his promised return. Pape’s heart quickened from appreciation of her fealty. He decided if possible to “cut out” her alone from her undependable “bunch” and show her the discovery to which the beef-brute had led him—the latest operation of the Lauderdale enemy. “Why Not! So you’re safe?” The glad cry was Irene’s, as she pressed up to him. “But my pet cow—don’t tell me you let him get away?” “The ‘dar-rling’ is on the road to the calaboose—pinched for all sorts of crimes,” returned Pape unfeelingly. “You’ll need a larger crop of bail weeds than you possibly can gather to make good your claim to him.” She, with a voice throb of regret: “That’s what I get for not following. A girl’s got to keep on the heels of her live-stock, be he man or cow, _these_ rapid days. Think of me sitting here, losing out as if I’d been born a hundred years ago—_obeying_ a mere male!” Jane had remounted and now rode up. “But if the steer is arrested,” she asked, “how do you come to be free? Did you disown him?” “Didn’t have to.” Pape’s speech was that of a man in a hurry. “Trail’s-end for the red was an air pocket over a toy lake. He made a magnificent splash and started swimming for the other shore. In the water he was about as dangerous as a pollywog. Proved easy pickings for that active little arrester of last night, Pudge O’Shay. Another policeman sat in the stern of his commandeered row-boat, over-working a piece of rope. I wish ’em joy taking my escutcheon in.” He omitted report of his own desperate feat of saving Polkadot and himself a similar high-dive off the bluff edge. More authoritatively he turned back to Irene. “Likely his fate will make you feel some better over that obey oversight. If you’d like to get the habit, you’d do me a favor by hunting up the village pound and paying the dues put on that shield rampant o’ mine. Here’s a roll that ought to be a gent cow’s sufficiency. And you’d favor me further by taking the family friend along.” “You mean——” “_Your_ Harfy. Maybe you can impress him with the desirability of obeying orders. Got to confess I failed.” “You precious puzzle!”—the young lady of to-day. “You aren’t—Oh, you are—you _are_!” “Are I—just what?” “Jealous, you silly! Haven’t I told you that Harfy long ago gave up hopes of me, that he is as naught to me—ab-so-lutely naught more than a friend who——”