“The only country left unsurveyed to-day is desert that would starve a horn toad to death in a week. Some one has put one over on you, Pat. Where does he live? If you’ve paid him any money yet, I’ll have to go and get it back for you. You’ve bought a gold brick, Pat.” “I have not! I investigated, I tell you. I have really bought the Waddell outfit--cattle, horses, brand, ranch, water rights and everything. It took all the insurance money dad left me, except just a few hundred dollars. That Power of Attorney--I pinned it on the back of the deed to surprise you, and you haven’t looked at it yet--cost me ten dollars, Gary Marshall! It gives you the right to go over there and run the outfit and transact business just as if you were the owner. I--I thought you might need it, and it would be just as well to have it.” Gary leaned forward, his jaw squared, his right hand shut to a fighting fist on the table. “Do you think for a minute I’m crazy enough to go over _there_? To quit a good job that’s just opening up into something big, and go off in the sand somewhere to watch cattle starve to death? It just happens that I do know a little about the cow business. Cattle have to eat, my dear girl. They don’t just walk around in front of a camera to give dolled-up cowboys a chance to ride. They require food occasionally. “Why, Pat, take a look at that deed! That in itself ought to have been enough to warn you. It’s recorded in Tonopah. _Tonopah!_ I was there on location once when we made _The Gold Boom_. It’s a mining town--not a cow town, Pat.” Patricia smiled patiently. “I know it, Gary. I didn’t say that Johnnywater lies inside the city limits of Tonopah. Mines and cattle are not like sheep and cattle; they don’t clash. There are cattle all around in that country.” Patricia swept out an arm to indicate vast areas. “We have inquiries from cattle men all over Nevada about stock food. I’ve billed out alfalfa molasses and oil cakes to several Nevada towns. And remember, I was making up a mailing list for our literature when I ran across the ad. We don’t mail our price lists to milliners, either. They raise cattle all through that country.” “Well, _I_ don’t raise ’em there--that’s flat.” Gary settled back in his chair with absolute finality in tone, words and manner. “Then I’m a ruined woman.” But Patricia said it calmly, even with a little secret satisfaction. “I shall have to go myself, then, and run the ranch, and get killed by bronks and bitten to death by Gila monsters and carried off by the Indians----” “Piffle!” from the big chair. “You couldn’t get on a bronk that was dangerous, and Gila monsters live farther south, and the Injuns are too lazy to carry anybody off. Besides, I wouldn’t let you go.” “Then I’m still a ruined woman, except that I’m ruined quicker. My cows will die and my calves will be rustled and my horses ridden off--_my_ cows and _my_ calves and _my_ horses!”