"Whirling livers never appealed to me," rejoined Tex, putting the rope back. "Never," he affirmed decidedly; "but I’m goin’ to whirl yourn some of these days, an’ you with it!" "Those he loves, he annoys," said a low, sweet voice, its timbre stimulating the puncher like a draught of wine. His sombrero sweeping off as he turned, he bowed to the French Rose, wife of the big-hearted half-owner of the ranch. If only he had chosen a woman like this one! "I seem to remember him annoyin’ Dave Owens, at near half a mile, with Hoppy’s Sharps," he slowly replied. "Nobody ever told me that he loved Dave a whole lot." At the momentary cloud the name brought to her face he shook his head and growled to himself. "I’m a fool, ma’am, these days," he apologized; "but it strikes me that you ought to smile at that name--it shore played its unwilling part in giving you a good husband; an’ Buck a mighty fine wife. Where is Buck?" "Inside the house, walking rings around the table--he seems so, so--" she shrugged her shoulders hopelessly and stepped aside to let Tex enter. "I don’t know what he seems," muttered Tex as he passed in; "but I know what he is--an’ that’s just a plain, ornery fool." He shook his head at such behavior by any man who was loved by the French Rose. Buck stopped his pacing and regarded him curiously, motioning toward an easy chair. "Standin’s good enough for me, for I’m itchin’ with th’ same disease that you imagine is stalkin’ you," said Tex, looking at his old friend with level, disapproving gaze. "It don’t matter with me, but it’s plain criminal with you. I’m free to go; yo’re not. An’ I’m tellin’ you frank that if I had th’ picket stake that’s holdin’ you, all h--l couldn’t tempt me. Yo’re a plain, d--d fool--an’ you know it!" Buck leaned back against the edge of the table and thoughtfully regarded his companion. "It ain’t so much that, as it is Hoppy, an’ Red, an’ Johnny," he replied, spreading out his hands in an eloquent gesture. "They could write, anyhow, couldn’t they?" he demanded. "Shore," affirmed Tex, grinning. "How long ago was it that you answered their last letters?" He leaned back and laughed outright at the guilty expression on his friend’s face. "I thought so! Strong on words, but cussed poor on example." "I reckon yo’re right," muttered Buck. "But that south range shore calls me strong, Tex." "’Whither thou goest, I go’ was said by a woman," retorted Tex. "’Yore people are my people; yore God, my God.’ I’m sayin’ it works both ways. You ought to go down on yore knees for what’s come to you. An’ you will, one of these days. Think of Hoppy’s loss--an’ you’ll do it before mornin’. But I didn’t come in to preach common sense to a lunatic--I come to get my time, an’ to say good-bye."