They had reined up, facing each other. The second man nodded and grunted a brief, “Howdy.” The girl stared at Rock with frank interest, as he lifted his hat. Her expression wasn’t lost on him. He wondered if he were expected to know her well, in his assumed identity. In the same breath he wondered if a more complete contrast to Nona Parke could have materialized out of those silent plains. She was a very beautiful creature, indeed. It was hot, and she had taken off her hat to fan her face. Her hair was a tawny yellow. A perfect mouth with a dimple at one corner fitted in a face that would have been uncommon anywhere. Curiously, with that yellow hair she had black eyebrows and eyelashes. And her eyes were the deep blue, almost purple, of mountains far on the horizon. To complete the picture more effectually her split riding skirt was of green corduroy, and she sat atop of a saddle that was a masterpiece of hand-carved leather, with hammered-silver trimmings. It was not the first time Rock had seen the daughters of cattle kings heralding their rank by the elaborate beauty of their gear. He made a lightning guess at her identity and wondered why she was there, riding on roundup. She seemed to know him, too. There was a curious sort of expectancy about her that Rock wondered at. However, he took all this in at a glance, in a breath. He said to the boy on the Parke horse: “Where’s the outfit?” “Back on White Springs, a coupla miles. You might as well come along to camp with us, Doc. It’s time to eat, an’ you’re a long way from home.” “Guess I will.” Rock was indeed ready to approach any chuck wagon thankfully. It was eleven, and he had breakfasted at five. They swung their horses away in a lope, four abreast. What the deuce was this Parke rider’s name, Rock wondered? He should have been primed for this. Nona might have told him he would possibly come across the Maltese Cross round-up. This must be her “rep.” And he was likewise unprepared for the girl’s direct attack. Rock rode on the outside, the girl next. She looked at him sidewise and said without a smile, with even a trace of resentment: “You must be awful busy these days. You haven’t wandered around our way for over two weeks.” “I’m working for a boss that don’t believe in holidays,” he parried. “I’d pick an easier boss,” she said. “Nona never lets the grass grow under anybody’s feet, that I’ve noticed. Sometimes I wish I had some of her energetic style.” “If you’re suffering from lack of ambish,” Rock said, merely to make conversation, “how’d you get so far from home on a hot day?” “Oh, Buck was in at the home ranch yesterday, and I rode back with him. Took a notion to see the round-up. I think I’ll go home this afternoon.”