"Me, too, Miss Chuckie. But you know I'd rather eat a wolf or a rustler or even a daring desperado than sinkers and beans, any day." "You'll come in with us and see what Daddy has to say about it," the girl insisted. She started to loosen her saddle-cinch. Gowan handed back the silver flask, and stripping off saddle and bridle from her horse, placed them on the rail beside his own. Ashton waited, as if expecting a like service. The puncher started off beside Miss Isobel without looking at him. Ashton flushed hotly, and hastened to do his own unsaddling. CHAPTER VII THE CHANCE OF RECLAMATION Beyond the bunkhouse, which was the nearest building to the corral, stood the low but roomy log structure of the main ranch house. As Ashton came around the front corner, close behind Gowan and the girl, Knowles rose from his comfortable chair in the rustic porch, knocked out the half burned contents of his pipe and extended a freckled, corded hand to the stranger. "Howdy, Mr. Ashton! Glad to see you!" he said with hearty hospitality. "Hope you've come to ease up our lonesomeness by a month or two's visit." "Why, I--You're too kind, really!" replied Ashton, his voice quavering and breaking at the unexpected cordiality of the welcome. "If you--I shall take advantage of your generous offer. You see, I'm rather in a box, owing to my--" He caught himself up, and tightened his slackening lip. "But you'll pardon me if I ask you to let me do something in return for your hospitality." "We don't sell our hospitality on the range," brusquely replied the cowman. "Oh, no, no, I did not mean--I could not pay a penny. I'm utterly destitute--a--a pauper!" A spasm of bitter despair contorted his handsome face. Knowles and the girl hastily looked away from him, that they might not see him in his weakness. But he rallied and forced a rather unsteady laugh at himself. "You see, I haven't quite got used to it yet. I've always had money. I never really had to work. Now I must learn to earn a living. It's very good of you, Mr. Knowles, but--there's that veal. If only you'll let me work out what I owe you." "You don't owe me a cent for the yearling," gruffly replied the cowman. "Don't know what I could put you at, anyway." "Might use him to shoo off the rattlers and jackrabbits from in front the mowing machine," suggested Gowan. "Mr. Ashton can ride," interposed the girl, with a friendliness of tone that brought Gowan to a thin-lipped silence. "That's something," said Knowles, gazing speculatively at the slim aristocratic figure of the tenderfoot. "You're not built for pitching hay, but like as not you have the makings of a puncher. Ever throw a rope?" "Never. I shall start practicing the art--at once." "No, not until you and Kid have had dinner," gayly contradicted the girl. "We've had ours. But Yuki always has something ready. Kid, if you'll show Mr. Ashton where to wash, I'll tell Yuki."