“Now you men go on and string ’em out”—he turned to his well-wetted associates. “They’re all over and all ready to move. It’s a dandy crossing. We’ll bed three or four miles on, if it looks good. Feed ’em slow and get ’em full. A full belly’s the best way to handle a cow. I’ll push on ahead right soon.” Just now he rode over to the moody figure that sat her reclaimed horse at the upper side of the fording trail. His face was frowning. “Miss Taisie,” said he, “one thing I’ve got to tell you. There ain’t going to be two trail bosses on this herd. It’s you or me. Now I want to say that we can’t be over about thirty of forty mile from Fort Worth. I reckon you and Del can get married there, huh? Then you still could ride back home to Del Sol. I don’t know what there is ahead. We ain’t more’n started. I can take chances for myself, and men and my cows—but not for you!” “Jim! Why, Jim!” She laid a hand on his soaked sleeve. “You don’t think I’m a quitter, do you?” “Lord knows I don’t, ma’am! I wisht you was.” “Jim! The lone herd of Del Sol, the first out of Texas? Something big, Jim! I don’t think I’ll be scared any more. It wouldn’t be playing square with you-all to get married and go back home. . . . Home?” He turned quickly. Tears again were on the girl’s cheeks. With a savage groan he caught the cheek strap of Blancocito and led her to the vehicles. “You Milly, damn yore black Baptist hide, quit yore shouting and build a fire! Make some coffee for Miss Taisie. I’ll tell Sinker to hold the remuda back, Miss Taisie. You-all come on up then.” Presently Cinquo Centavos rode up, shy and grinning, abashed yet happy at being appointed personal guardian of his deity. Thin, burned brown, ragged, his hat almost no hat at all, boots and saddle alone marked him worthy to join these other men—these and his instinctive mastery of horseflesh. At sight of Milly clambering down over the cart wheel—indeed a dismaying spectacle—his mount began to plunge and pitch. The boy sat him, annoyed. Taisie waved a hand. “Fine, Cinquo!” she called. “I like to see you ride.” The boy smiled as he jerked up the head of the horse. “I didn’t make him pitch, ma’am,” said he. “He’s jest done that hisself. I reckon it was the sight o’ Milly’s laigs. He’s all right now.” He dismounted. “How are you coming on, Cinquo?” inquired his mistress. “Getting to be a regular trail man?” “I ain’t lost a head yit, ma’am,” said the youth simply. “One D Slash hawse turned back this mornin’, but I crossed him. I got my hull bunch. Now we’re over two-three rivers; they won’t turn back now. Hawses is a heap reasonabler than cows.” “Jim says you work too hard. You don’t need to be up all night on a remuda, he says—horses stick together. You don’t have to watch them every minute.”