"That's a lie, ma'am! Leastways, it ain't true. You done put a lizard down my back with a bunch of grass." They were in high glee when a clatter of hoofs broke in on them. It startled Mrs. Floyd. "What's that? Who's that?" Two riders pulled up in front of the house, and Floyd stepped stiffly out of the saddle. He gave the reins to Miguel, who disappeared toward the corrals at a gallop. The boss was spattered with mud, and wringing wet and dog-weary. As he came into the light, he dragged his feet, and water ran in streams from his overalls and seeped from his boots. "Tom!" His wife ran to him. "Don't," he said. "I'm soaking." "How did you get here? Mercy! You're a sight. Don't let the rain drip on the rug! Stand over here." "How's the bridge, Floyd?" Johnson asked. "The bridge is down," the boss answered. "We done swum the river." Then he chuckled grimly. "Miguel, he was plumb scared, but I pulled a gun on him and made him go ahead." He threw himself into a chair and removed his muddied spurs. "I never dreamed you'd get back to-night," said Sally. "I said I would, didn't I?" Johnson, resting his shoulders against the sitting-room mantel, suddenly bethought himself and went to his room, whence he returned briskly with a bottle of whisky. "This'll keep the cold out." "Why, you must be half dead, you poor, dear old Boy Blue!" Sally cried; the name fitted the boss as happily as Fido would a rhinoceros. "Wait, and I'll cook you something." Something in her manner or her words caused Floyd to lift his head sharply. A slow smile twisted his features. He got up and went into the dining-room to pour some water into his drink. Before he drained it, he looked at his reflection in the glass above the sideboard. His eyes showed tired but well content. "Come on, Lafe," he said brusquely. "Let's eat." "You're on," said the cheery Mr. Johnson. Sally hovered about them, constantly running to the kitchen for hot coffee and toast. Lafe sat back--it being his custom to bring his mouth down to his fork, instead of his fork up to his mouth--and surveyed the scene with much approval. Mrs. Floyd was at that moment pressing her husband to a second plate of scrambled eggs. "There's nothing like a home, after all," said the boss, with a sigh of satisfaction. "You ought for to get married, Lafe." "Hell!--yes!" said Lafe, who was sometimes careless in his speech. CHAPTER IV OUT OF A JOB Three days later Johnson left us to go north with his last load of cattle. Floyd and his wife were at the pens to say good-by, and waved at him until the caboose followed the rest of the train around a curve. Even Tommy flapped his chubby fist. And in the course of time Horne paid him off.