Billy rode Redbuck, Curly Drumfire, and they were princes of a royal blood, albeit Nature's strain alone. Slim, spirited, wiry, eager heads up, manes flying, bright hoofs flashing in the late sunlight, they came home to Last's after a long day's work, fresh as when they went out at dawn. "Nothin' ever floors them," Tharon said aloud to herself. "Wonderful creatures." She set the butter down on the rock at her feet, cupped her hands about her lips and sent out a keen, clear call, two notes, one rising, one falling. It had a livening, compelling quality. Instantly Drumfire flung up his head and answered it with a ringing whistle, though he did not lose a stride in the flying curve he was performing to head a stubborn yearling that refused in stiff-tailed arrogance to go into the corrals. The girl smiled and, stooping, picked up her dish and entered. It was late before the last straggler was in from the range. The boys washed at the big sink on the porch, and were ready for the hearty fare that steamed in the lamp-lighted room. For the last hour Tharon had been watching the eastern slopes for her father. "He's ridin' late, Anita," she said anxiously as the men trooped in with the usual jest and laughter. "He went far, no doubt, _Corazon,"_ said old Anita comfortably. "He goes so fast on El Rey that time as well as distance flies beneath the shining hoofs." Anita was like her people, mystic and soft-spoken. "True," said the girl gently, "I forget, El Rey is mighty. He went very far I make no doubt. We'll hear him comin' soon." Then she poured steaming coffee in the cups about the table, smiling down in the eyes upturned to hers. Billy, Curly, Bent Smith, Jack Masters and Conford, the foreman, they all had a love-look for her, and the girl felt it like a circling guerdon. She was grateful for the sense of security that seemed to emanate from her father's riders, a bit wistful withal, as if, for the first time in her life, she needed something more than she had always had. "Which way did Dad go, Billy?" she asked, "north or south?" "North," said Billy, "he rode th' Cup Rim range today." When the meal, a trifle silent in deference to Tharon's silence, was done, the men rose awkwardly. They stood a moment, looking about, undecided. Conford picked them up with his eyes and nodded out. He felt that just maybe the girl would rather be alone. But Tharon stopped the reluctant egress. "Don't go, boys," she said, "come on in th' room. There's no moon tonight." But she did not play on the melodeon. Instead she sat in the deep window that looked over the rolling uplands and was quiet, listening. "Turn out th' light, Bent," she said, "somehow I feel like shadows tonight."