Racey shook his head. "Wouldn't be sensible, that wouldn't. Somebody might see you. You come along later like I told you. Me and Rack will travel together." "I was goin' to the 88," protested Rack. "Yo're mistaken," Racey told him, firmly. "Yo're going to Farewell--with me. Ain't you?" "I s'pose so," Rack Slimson capitulated. "Then c'mon. Get a-goin'." Marie watched the two men ride away together. "Ain't he the hellion?" she said, admiringly, to Tom and Old Salt. "Bound to have his own way if it kills him." At this there was a slight sound from the direction of the garden. Marie and the two men turned to look. Trowel in hand Molly Dale was kneeling on one knee between the brook and a row of blue camass. But she was not doing any weeding. She was staring fixedly at Marie. While a man could breathe twice Molly stared at Marie, then she dropped her head and became very busy with the trowel. Marie's sniff was audible at thirty feet. She picked up her reins and nodded to Tom Loudon and Mr. Saltoun. "See you later," said she, and started her horse in the direction of Farewell. But she whirled him back before he had taken three steps. "I clean forgot he was yore hoss," she said, apologetically, to Mr. Saltoun. "I'll have to go back to the Bar S first." "Thassall right," Mr. Saltoun made haste to assure her. "You take him right along. One of the boys can ride yore hoss to town on the next trip an' ride this one back." "That _will_ save me a lot of trouble," said Marie, turning her bewildered mount a second time. "She ain't ridin' straight toward Farewell," said Tom Loudon, rolling a slow cigarette. "Aw, she's sensible," yawned Mr. Saltoun. "She'll do like Racey says all right. She must like him a lot. I--Whatsa matter with _you_?" For Tom Loudon had contrived to make a long leg and give Mr. Saltoun a vigorous kick on the ankle. "I guess we'll be goin'," dodged Tom Loudon, and then took off his hat to Miss Dale. "So long, miss. If you--uh--You know where the Bar S is in case--just in case, y' understand." He touched his horse with the spur and moved off with as much dignity as a colonel of cavalry. Not so Mr. Saltoun. He had been kicked, and the kick hurt, and he was very red and ruffled in consequence. Swearing under his breath he followed his son-in-law. "Here," he demanded, crowding his horse alongside, "what did yuh kick me for?" Tom Loudon looked over his shoulder before replying. The ranch-house was a hundred yards in the rear and Molly Dale was not in sight. He deliberately turned his head and looked his father-in-law straight in the eye. "What did I kick you for?" he repeated. "I kicked you because you didn't have any sense." This was too much. "Huh? Because I--Lookit here, you--" "'Tsall right, 'tsall right. You didn't have any sense. Here's Molly Dale thinks Racey is the only fellah ever rode a cayuse, and you have to blat out so she can hear you, 'Marie must shore like him a lot'." "Well, what of it? I don't see--"