He shouldered his way through the crowd in the heedless manner of most bulky men, who seldom realize how much space they take that properly belongs to others. At six feet from the golden horse he halted, and surveyed him with shining eyes. "Sunnysides, eh?" he said, turning toward the nearest of the strangers. "The's only one," replied the cow-puncher. "Who caught him this time?" "Us three. That's Jim Raley, with the busted arm. That other is Jud Smith, My name's Larkin. We belong to the X bar O outfit on Lost Soldier Creek." "Second outfit below Forty-Mile," said Huntington, familiarly. "Right!" "Sanders still foreman?" "Yes." "Then what are you doing with that horse up here?" The cow-puncher grinned. "I ketch your meanin'," he replied. "It's like this. Sanders chased Sunnysides three seasons, an' thought he'd roped him. But all he gits 's a cracked leg, an' not a yeller hair of the slippery beast. Then us three takes on the job--not presumin' to be better'n Sanders, but hopin' for luck. It comes our way, an' there you are. We offer him to Sanders--for a price, natch'rally--but he says he don't believe in ghosts, an' we c'n go to hell with him." "You must have missed the road. This is Paradise," said Huntington. The crowd roared its appreciation. "The' ain't much in names," observed Larkin testily. The crowd laughed again, though, of course, less heartily. "Well, Heaven or Hell," said Huntington, "is the horse for sale?" "He is--if he ain't sold already." "How's that?" "We're offered a price for him--if it still holds good. That's why we've come to Paradise--an' no other reason, believe me!" "How much?" "Thousand." There was a stir in the crowd. "That's some price for a bronco," said Huntington, with an assumed indifference. "It sure is--if you're talkin' about a _bronco_," retorted the cow-puncher. There was a brief silence, in which all eyes were turned again upon the golden horse, standing motionless but alert, as if keenly alive to all that passed. The common ponies around him stamped, and champed their bits, and moved restlessly in their places, but Sunnysides remained calm and observant, with all the dignity and contempt of a captive patrician in a crowd of yokels. Marion saw admiration and desire growing in Seth's eyes, and knew that her foreboding had not been without reason. "And who's paying a thousand dollars for him?" asked Huntington. "Haig's his name, Philip Haig," answered Larkin. "Know him?"