“Mebbe he did an' mebbe he didn't. Anyway, what's the difference whether he finds out this mornin' or this evenin'?” “Then you ain't expectin' a fight if Anson holds up the stage?” “Wal, he'd have to shoot first, which ain't likely. John an' Hal, since thet shootin'-scrape a year ago, have been sort of gun-shy. Joe might get riled. But I reckon the best we can be shore of is a delay. An' it'd be sense not to count on thet.” “Then you hang up here an' keep watch for Anson's gang--say long enough so's to be sure they'd be in sight if they find our tracks this mornin'. Makin' sure one way or another, you ride 'cross-country to Big Spring, where I'll camp to-night.” Roy nodded approval of that suggestion. Then without more words both men picked up ropes and went after the horses. Helen was watching Dale, so that when Bo cried out in great excitement Helen turned to see a savage yellow little mustang standing straight up on his hind legs and pawing the air. Roy had roped him and was now dragging him into camp. “Nell, look at that for a wild pony!” exclaimed Bo. Helen busied herself getting well out of the way of the infuriated mustang. Roy dragged him to a cedar near by. “Come now, Buckskin,” said Roy, soothingly, and he slowly approached the quivering animal. He went closer, hand over hand, on the lasso. Buckskin showed the whites of his eyes and also his white teeth. But he stood while Roy loosened the loop and, slipping it down over his head, fastened it in a complicated knot round his nose. “Thet's a hackamore,” he said, indicating the knot. “He's never had a bridle, an' never will have one, I reckon.” “You don't ride him?” queried Helen. “Sometimes I do,” replied Roy, with a smile. “Would you girls like to try him?” “Excuse me,” answered Helen. “Gee!” ejaculated Bo. “He looks like a devil. But I'd tackle him--if you think I could.” The wild leaven of the West had found quick root in Bo Rayner. “Wal, I'm sorry, but I reckon I'll not let you--for a spell,” replied Roy, dryly. “He pitches somethin' powerful bad.” “Pitches. You mean bucks?” “I reckon.” In the next half-hour Helen saw more and learned more about how horses of the open range were handled than she had ever heard of. Excepting Ranger, and Roy's bay, and the white pony Bo rode, the rest of the horses had actually to be roped and hauled into camp to be saddled and packed. It was a job for fearless, strong men, and one that called for patience as well as arms of iron. So that for Helen Rayner the thing succeeding the confidence she had placed in these men was respect. To an observing woman that half-hour told much. When all was in readiness for a start Dale mounted, and said, significantly: “Roy, I'll look for you about sundown. I hope no sooner.” “Wal, it'd be bad if I had to rustle along soon with bad news. Let's hope for the best. We've been shore lucky so far. Now you take to the pine-mats in the woods an' hide your trail.”