she's through and never a step more. I know the minute she's through
working on muscle and starts working on her nerve, and when that time
comes, I stop. I've put up in the middle of nowheres to let her get back
her wind. Kill her? Nope, lady, and the only reason Shorty's hoss was so
used up was because he plumb insisted on keeping up with us!"

And Marianne nodded. Ordinarily such a speech would have drawn argument
from her. Indeed, her own submissiveness startled her as she found
herself gently inviting the fire eater to come into the house and learn
in detail the work which lay before him.



CHAPTER XII

FROM THE HIP

Shorty rode for the bunkhouse instead of the corrals and tumbling out
of the saddle he staggered through the door. Inside, the cowpunchers sat
about enjoying a before-dinner smoke and the coolness which the evening
wash had brought to their wind-parched skins. Shorty reeled through the
midst of them to his bunk and collapsed upon it.

Not a man stirred. Not an eye followed him. No matter what curiosity was
burning in their vitals, etiquette demanded that they ask no questions.
If in no other wise, the Indian has left his stamp on the country in the
manners of the Western riders.

In the meantime, Shorty lay on his back with his arms flung out
crosswise, his eyes closed, his breath expelled with a moan and drawn in