Bess looked beautifully charming in her well-fitted jacket and divided skirt of reseda green. A filmy white veil was tied over her sombrero and floated over her shoulder in long loops like a fleecy cloud nestling against her soft, brown tresses. At her throat showed the soft whiteness of her shirt waist, for, “was it not Sunday, and were they not going to church, and ought they not to be dressed in their best?” she argued when James asked why she had not worn her corduroy suit for the long, dusty ride. Bess wished secretly that she, too might wear the leathern “chapps” like the boys; as they seemed so much more comfortable than a lot of useless cloth about one. She vowed inwardly that some day, when no one was looking, she would try the “chapps,” and if they proved satisfactory why should she not wear them too? The horses made good time at a steady gait, and all were so preoccupied that only a few desultory remarks were exchanged. As the miles grew in number the dawn became brighter and brighter, till now old Sol shot forth his streaming gold and a new and glorious day began. “This will be a very warm day,” remarked Henry West, after a deliberate survey of the sky. “It feels like a weather-breeder and I think we’ll have a heavy rain by night.” He unfastened his mackinaw, and the breeze blew out his soft, white, silk shirt in little fat puffs. They passed groups of fine, sleek cattle and horses, the _HW_ brand being the most conspicuous among them. Suddenly Henry West gave Eagle a swift turn on the bridle and sped across the grass till he came upon some strange calves. From the distance intervening Bess and James watched him wonderingly and with interest. When he returned to them his face was lowering. James was about to ask what was wrong, but thought if it were anything of interest to him that Henry would tell him. On and on they rode, now in a swift gallop, for the road was smooth and hard, and by this time the horses had their “second wind.” Bess’ inquisitiveness got the better of her, and she cried: “For pity’s sake, Henry, do tell me what is wrong! Can’t you see I’m just bursting to know?” And she gave her contumacious hair a vigorous thrust under her sombrero. West began slowly: “James, in your riding over the range, have you noticed among any of my cows a scrub, measly-looking red bull? Those calves, back there, show his ear-marks. Last year I told old Savaeau that if he did not kill that damned nuisance I would the first chance I got. And here this season’s calves are again contaminated by scrub breeding.” Bess had grown so accustomed to hearing discussions of all kinds concerning the cattle and horses that she was deeply interested, and now, before James had time to reply, she spoke: