"Yes; Ashton feeds him sugar, like he does the rest of you," rejoined the puncher. "It ain't natural in his brand of tenderfoot--Bound to ride out, if there's any riding to do; bound to fuss and stew around the corral; bound to help with the haying; bound to help haul the water; bound to practice with his rope every moment he ain't doing something else. Can't tell me there ain't a nigger in that woodpile." "Now, don't go to hunting out any more mares' nests, Kid," admonished Knowles. "He's just a busted millionaire, that's all; and he's proving he realizes it. Guess the smash scared him. He's afraid he can't make good. Chuckie says he thinks I'll turn him adrift if he doesn't hustle enough to earn his salt." "Why not fire him anyway? You don't need him, and you won't need him," argued the puncher. "Well, he helps keep Chuckie entertained. With you and him both on the place, she might conclude to stay over the winter, this year." Gowan's mouth straightened to a thin slit. "Better send her to Denver right off." "Look here, Kid," reproved the cowman. "You've had your chance, and you've got it yet. I've never interfered with you, and I'm not going to with him. It's for Chuckie to pick the winner. Like as not it'll be some man in town, for all I know. She has the say. Whether he wears a derby or a sombrero, she's to have her own choice. I don't care if he's a millionaire or a busted millionaire or a bronco buster, provided he's a man, and provided I'm sure he'll treat her right." Gowan lapsed into a sullen silence. Mounted as before on Rocket, Ashton had already made a second trip to Stockchute for mail, returning almost as quickly as on his wild first ride. Monday of his third week at the ranch he was sent on his third trip. As before, he started at dawn. But this time he did not come racing back early enough for a belated noon meal as he had on each of the previous occasions. By mid-afternoon Isobel began to grow uneasy. Remarkable as had been the efforts of his new rider's training, there was the not improbable chance that Rocket had reverted to his ugly tricks. She shuddered as she pictured the battered corpse of the city man dragging over the rocks and through the brush, with a foot twisted fast in one of the narrow iron stirrups. Her father and Gowan were off on their usual work of inspecting the bunches of cattle scattered about the range. The other men were as busy as ever mowing more hay and hauling in that which was cured. She was alone at the ranch with the Jap. At four o'clock she saddled her best horse and rode out towards Dry Fork. She hoped to sight Ashton from the divide. But there was no sign of any horseman out on the wide stretch of sagebrush flats.