The Duke thought perhaps they might come in handy. They turned back, accordingly, and each of the trespassers was compelled to shoulder an oak post, with much blasphemy and threatening of future adjustment. In that manner of marching, each free ranger carrying his cross as none of his kind ever had carried it before, they rode to the scene of their late depredations. Vesta Philbrook stood at the gate and watched them go, reproaching herself for her silence in the presence of this man who had come to her assistance with such sure and determined hand. She never had found it difficult before to thank anybody who had done her a generous turn; but here her tongue had lain as still as a hare in its covert, and her heart had gone trembling in the gratitude which it could not voice. A strong man he was, and full of commanding courage, but neither so strong nor so mighty that she had need to keep as quiet in his presence as a kitchen maid before a king. But he would have to pass that way coming back, and she could make amends. The old negro stood by, chuckling his pleasure at the sight drawing away into the distance of the pasture where his mistress' cattle fed. "Ananias, do you know who that man is," she asked. "Laws, Miss Vesta, co'se I do. Didn't you hear his hoss-wrangler call him Duke?" "I heard him call him Duke." "He's that man they call Duke of Chimley Butte--I know that hoss he's a-ridin'; that hoss used to be Jim Wilder's ole outlaw. That Duke man killed Jim and took that hoss away from him; that's what he done. That was while you was gone; you didn't hear 'bout it." "Killed him and took his horse? Surely, he must have had some good reason, Ananias." "I don' know, and I ain't a-carin'. That's him, and that's what he done." "Did you ever hear of him killing anybody else?" "Oh, plenty, plenty," said the old man with easy generosity. "I bet he's killed a hun'ed men--maybe mo'n a hun'ed." "But you don't know," she said, smiling at the old man's extravagant recommendation of his hero. "I don' know, but I bet he is," said he. "Look at 'em!" he chuckled; "look at old Nick Ha'gus and his onery, low-down Injun-blood boy!" CHAPTER X GUESTS OF THE BOSS LADY Vesta rode out to meet them as they were coming back, to make sure of her thanks. She was radiant with gratitude, and at no loss any longer for words to express it. Before they had ridden together on the return journey half a mile, Taterleg felt that he had known her all her life, and was ready to cast his fortunes with her, win or lose.