Farlane knew how to mollify his master and long habit had made him proficient. Bostil's eyes flashed. He was proud of Lucy's power over a horse. The story Bostil first told to any stranger happening by the Ford was how Lucy had been born during a wild ride--almost, as it were, on the back of a horse. That, at least, was her fame, and the riders swore she was a worthy daughter of such a mother. Then, as Farlane well knew, a quick road to Bostil's good will was to praise one of his favorites. "Reckon you spoke sense for once, Farlane," replied Bostil, with relief. "I wasn't thinkin' so much of danger for Lucy.... But she lets thet half-witted Creech go with her." "No, boss, you're wrong," put in Holley, earnestly. "I know the girl. She has no use fer Joel. But he jest runs after her." "An' he's harmless," added Farlane. "We ain't agreed," rejoined Bostil, quickly. "What do you say, Holley?" The old rider looked thoughtful and did not speak for long. "Wal, Yes an' no," he answered, finally. "I reckon Lucy could make a man out of Joel. But she doesn't care fer him, an' thet settles thet.... An' maybe Joel's leanin' toward the bad." "If she meets him again I'll rope her in the house," declared Bostil. Another clear-eyed rider drew Bostil's attention from the gray waste of rolling sage. "Bostil, look! Look at the King! He's watchin' fer somethin'.... An' so's Sarch." The two horses named were facing a ridge some few hundred yards distant, and their heads were aloft and ears straight forward. Sage King whistled shrilly and Sarchedon began to prance. "Boys, you'd better drive them in," said Bostil. "They'd like nothin' so well as gettin' out on the sage.... Hullo! what's thet shootin' up behind the ridge?" "No more 'n Buckles with Lucy makin' him run some," replied Holley, with a dry laugh. "If it ain't! ... Lord! look at him come!"