“I rid down, Miss Lockhart,” said he, “to ast fer the job. Would ye take me? I kin ride and rope.”
His eyes, brown, direct, unabashed, looked fair and square into the dark eyes of Taisie Lockhart. She spread out her hands at length, with words of assent which might have had a double meaning:
“One more man? Very well.”
A Paramount Picture. North of 36.
TAISIE INVITES THE MYSTERIOUS McMASTERS IN.
CHAPTER XIII
“BRING AN IRON!”
THE cow hunter lost little time in settling down to work in his new capacity. He had initiative, seemed masterful, independent.
“Let me bring two or three of my boys down and help you-all throw back a lot of these cows and calfs. I’ll leave couple boys to hold our stuff. Come on up again and look it over.”
They rode together until they reached the edge of the wild range herd—literally the loot of a land untenanted—animals wild as buffalo. Nabours gave the herd the quick glance of the practiced cowman.
“Yore stuff’s fatter’n ours,” said he; “yet you’ve driv further.”