coloring up with embarrassment, "but not a wild one."

"Oh, who is that?" Carolyn June cried suddenly as a lone rider whirled
out of the corral, around the stables, and his horse sprang into a
gallop straight down the valley toward the harrows at its lower end.

"That," Skinny said after a quick glance, "oh, that's th' Ramblin'
Kid--Where in thunder do you reckon the darned fool's going now?" he
added to Old Heck.

"Can't tell nothing about where he's going," Old Heck said. "He's liable
to be heading for anywhere. What's he riding?" he asked without looking
up.

"Captain Jack," Skinny replied. "Wonder if he ain't going over to Battle
Ridge to find out if it's so about them sheep coming in over there?"

"Maybe," Old Heck grunted, "either that or else he's took a notion to
hunt that Gold Dust maverick again"--referring to a strange, wonderfully
beautiful, outlaw filly that had appeared on the Kiowa range a year
before and tormented the riders by her almost fiendish cunning in
dodging corral or rope--"if he's riding Captain Jack that's probably
what he's after."

"Who is he, what's his real name?" Carolyn June asked with interest.

"Just th' Ramblin' Kid, as far as I know," Old Heck answered.

"Does he live at the Quarter Circle KT?" Carolyn June continued
curiously as she studied the slender form rising and falling with the