hoop-la, when you're a little older. Wine and women and a good horse.
They help."

Douglas drew a shuddering breath. "Is that all you've found out? All?"

"Of course, there's ambition," said Charleton. "I was ambitious, myself,
once. You know my father was a college man and he wanted me to go back
East to school. I almost went."

"Why didn't you go?" asked Douglas, immensely flattered at the mark of
confidence being shown him. Charleton Falkner was notoriously reticent
about himself.

"O, it's this easy life of the open! Why should I have gone into politics
as my father wanted me to, when I could be happier with an easy living
right here? And it would all end up there in the cemetery, anyhow. And
what had ambition to offer me in comparison to the sport of running wild
horses on Fire Mesa, or riding herd in the Reserve or hunting deer on
Falkner's Peak. Horses, dogs, guns, women, whiskey, the open country
of the Rockies. Enough for any man."

"Maybe!" muttered Douglas.

"What are you going to do now you're through school?" asked Charleton
abruptly.

"Ride for Dad. He's promised me a herd of my own when I'm twenty-one."

"Listen!" said Charleton. "How'd you like to do a little business with me
once in a while when John can spare you? You know, cattle, horses and