Stunned at first, Jane flatly refused to talk about it, and had fled from the supper table to her room. Later on when he had cautiously broached the subject again, quoting the enthusiastic Murphy almost entirely, to show that his own opinions were well founded, she had listened to all he had to say, but had remained dumb. The evening was anything but pleasant and he had gone to bed in an unconcealed huff. She gave credit to Watkins but withheld it from Jones, who had earned it all. "D--n women, anyhow," had been his summing up. The following morning he ate a silent breakfast and hurried to the station as he would flee to an oasis from the open desert. He found Tim waiting for him, eager to talk it all over again. Hardly had the station been opened when Tex rode up, leaped from the magnificent roan, and sauntered to the door. His face was grave, his manner dignified and calm. "How’d’y, boys," he said in greeting. "Proud I am this mornin’," beamed Murphy, his thick, huge hand closing over the lean, sinewy one of the gunman. "’Twas a fine job ye done, Tex, my boy; an’ a fine way ye did it! Gave th’ beast th’ first shot! There’s not another man could do it." "There’s plenty could," answered Tex. "I can name two, an’ there’s many more. I’m no gunman, understand: I’m just plain Tex Jones. But I didn’t come here to hold any pow-pow--I’m wonderin’ if you’d let me look in th’ toolhouse--I might ’a’ left it there when we loaded th’ hand car." "An’ what’s ’it’?" asked Murphy. "My knife." "Come along then," said the section-boss, swinging his keys and leading the way. They found no knife, but Murphy was given some information which he considered worth while. As they reached the station door again Tex burst out laughing. "I know where it is! Cuss me for a fool, I left it in Carney’s stable, stickin’ in th’ side of th’ harness closet. Oh, well; there’s no harm done." He turned to Jerry. "I wonder if Miss Saunders would like another bit of practice today?" Jerry’s face clouded. No matter how much he might admire Bud Haines’ master in the late Bud’s profession of gun-throwing, and no matter how much he might admire him for sundry other matters, nevertheless none of them qualified the new-found friend as an aspirant for his sister’s hand. He did not wish to offend Tex, and certainly he did not want his enmity. To him came Jane’s inexplicable behavior and in coming it brought an inspiration. Jane, he thought, could handle this matter far better than he could. "She didn’t seem to be feeling well this morning," he answered. "Still, I never guess right about her. If you feel like riding again, go up and ask her."