Six weeks had passed and business was running smoothly again at the Bar X ranch. Mason had fully recovered from his wound and Tex was also able to be about, although his complete recovery was still a matter of time. No word had been heard from Trent Burton, the Marshal, since he had taken his prisoners away. His services were in great demand by the Government, and the opinion prevailed at the ranch that he was working on a hard criminal case somewhere in the East. The Marshal had seemed anxious to dispose of the Ricker case in a hurry, saying that he had matters of great importance awaiting him at headquarters. One fine morning, Mason feeling the need of exercise, found himself longing for a spin in his racing car. He had not been out in it since the time he drove to the station with Josephine to meet his mother and sister. The idea getting a firm hold on him, he made his way to the shed that did duty as a garage, with the intention of giving the car a careful overhauling. He paused as he was about to open the door, and looked down the trail leading to Trader’s Post. It was a magnificent morning with a gentle breeze sweeping up the valley. He smiled as he made out the figures of Waneda and Tex just coming out of the bunk-house and headed his way. The Spanish girl called regularly on Tex every morning, and insisted that he take a walk in the warm sunshine. It was due to this fact that the cowboy was recovering so rapidly. The lanky cowboy had taken a great liking to his Spanish nurse with the large dreamy eyes, and it didn’t take very hard coaxing on her part to get him to take a walk when the weather was fine. Mason was working industriously on his racer when the pair came up and looked in on him. “Good morning, Tex,” he called cheerfully, bowing to Waneda. “Want to take a ride in my racer? I can take both of you to Trader’s Post and back again before breakfast is ready.” Tex was eyeing the machine distrustfully. “Nope,” he answered laconically. “A hoss is plenty good enough for me. What if the blamed thing got to frisking balky like? I reckon I ain’t afraid of no hoss that walks, but if this here critter got to acting up peevish like, why I know I sure would jump out. I ain’t got no objections to the gal here a-going with you if she likes.” Before Waneda could answer two riders rode past them on their way to the ranch. Tex looked after them in surprise. “Bruce and Lem Gaylor from the Gaylor ranch across the valley from us,” he said in a puzzled tone. “Wonder what they want this early in the morning?” “Probably nothing serious,” Mason answered, briskly, turning his attention to getting his car in running order. “People can begin to enjoy life again in this part of the country, now that the Ricker gang has been cleaned out,” he resumed. “Tex, doesn’t it seem good to know you can ride this range without bumping into some of Ricker’s cut-throats?” Tex frowned darkly.