"An' I want a yellow plush furniture set, an' a photograph-album to match, an' a center-table, an' a Rock-of-Ages picture, an' a boudoir--" A boudoir was beyond the ken of Bud. He knew nothing of housekeeping. This must be one of those strange articles, the mystery of which he would have to solve before he could feel that he was really a married man. "What the devil is a boudoir?" he asked. "I don't know what it is, but all rich women have them." Bud took both of Polly's hands in his. Looking her fondly in the eyes, he said: "Then, by thunder, I'll get you two of 'em. We'll raise the limit when we furnish that shack. I'm the happiest man in the country." "Well you ought to be," laughed Polly. "Just see what you are gettin'." "I've got to chase myself back to the house. You're ridin' night herd to-night, ain't you?" she added. "Yes. I'm on the cocktail to-night. I am goin' to bunk down here. I'll be up to the house at sunup, and we can go over to Florence together." "I'll have breakfast ready for you. Rope my pony for me, will you?" Bud was smiling and happy again. All of his troubles were forgotten. "All right!" he cried, as he started to mount. "Say, you're awful forgetful, aren't you?" asked Polly demurely. Bud looked about him slightly bewildered. Then he realized his oversight. He ran to Polly's and tried to kiss her, but she motioned him aside, saying: "Too late--you lose." "But I didn't know," stammered Bud. "Next time you'll know. On your way," airily commanded the girl. Bud's face darkened. "Oh, well, good-by." Polly looked after him perplexed and angry. His surrender to her whims without a fight nettled her. "Good-by, yourself," she snapped. "He's the most forgetful man I ever loved. If I thought he was a gamblin'-man, I'd get a divorce from him before I married him. I would sure," murmured Polly, as Bud disappeared toward the corral. Polly's musing was interrupted by the return of Buck McKee. "Is Bud Lane over yere?" he asked. "You must have passed him just now. He's just got in from night-herdin'." "I thought I seed him comin' this way. When's the weddin'-bells goin' to ring?" Polly flushed. "Next month. Then you'll lose Bud's company fer good," she answered defiantly. "Well, I ain't been doin' him much good," Buck assented. "I'm goin' back home, though." Polly gazed at Buck in surprise. Here was a new view of the man; one she had never considered. It was strange to hear this outlaw and bad man talk of a home. The repetition of the word "home" by Polly, led him to continue: "Yep. Up to the Strip, where I was borned at. This yere climate's a leetle too dry to suit me. I'm goin' to get a leetle ranch and a leetle gal, an' settle down for sure." "I wish you may," said Polly heartily. "You sure acted mighty fine about that Peruna insultin' Mrs. Payson." Harshly as Polly had felt toward Buck, his actions in the recent incidents had softened her feelings toward him.