“Oh, yes, maybe. But if we do hit a market, where’ll we round up the next herd for her? Some one else has got our cows. There’s a big steal been going on in Central Texas. “You see, we done our damnedest to take care of her and not let her know. God ha’ mercy on me! I’m the worstest perjured liar in Texas, and that’s a big claim. We’ve had a rodeo now and then, here at the home place, but she didn’t know how fur we driv some of them cows! “But how could we fool her if we put up a big herd? She kin read a brand as well as us. We’d road brand, I reckon—yes; but that wouldn’t change the facts none. She’d ketch on. She ain’t no fool, that girl. What do you say, then?” “Why, I say start your round-up to-morrow! Keep in the T.L., the Del Sol brand, or do the best you can. It will come to a show-down anyhow before long, so why wait? Let hers be the first herd north of the Red this spring. While the others are thinking it over, let’s be up the trail! Believe me, all Texas will be moving north before long!” “She pops!” said Jim Nabours suddenly. He had decided. “How long to make the herd?” McMasters also kindled. “Two weeks. We could brand out within another two, only we’ll have to rope and throw. Our pens won’t hold. We got no chute.” “Build one to-day. It will pay you.” Nabours looked at the newcomer curiously with an eye not free of suspicion. “You taken a mighty interest.” He spoke slowly. “I have! I want to go up the trail with you-all. I’ve reason for going north again. My business there wasn’t settled.” “But what’s your reasons for being so brash about coming in with us? I dunno’s I’ve give you leave, and I know the boss didn’t.” “Two reasons. One I’ve told you—the business that took me north and brought me south will take me north again. Never mind what that is. I’m a captain of Rangers, and we can’t talk. The other reason you can guess.” “I reckon I do guess.” “_Muy bien!_ Our families both came in with Stephen Austin. They both had men massacred with Fannin at Goliad. They both had men in the Alamo. Her father and mine were both killed up the trail. Do you think any McMasters would let any Lockhart starve? Listen! You say she’s poor; say her range is skinned. Tell her nothing—but please let a McMasters help a Lockhart. Let me send you fifty horses and two wagonloads of grub. You needn’t let her know. Make it a loan or gift, either way you please. And let me ride with you.” A surprising irrelevancy marked Jim Nabours’ next remark. “That girl can marry twenty-seven men to-morrow morning. She ain’t going to marry no one until she knows who killed Burleson Lockhart. ‘Bring me the man that finds my father’s murderer,’ says she, ‘and I believe I’d marry him.’” “She said that?” “_Si, señor._ Maybe meant it, or thought she did. You can’t tell much about no woman, and least of all about Burleson Lockhart’s daughter. One thing, she’ll be slow to quit anything she starts. She’s sot now on driving. I reckon she will.”