you."

Brower did not turn his head, nor did Tiger slow up. After twenty
seconds I realized that he intended to do neither. I ceased urging on my
animal, there was no use tiring us both; evidently the jockey was
enjoying to the full the exhilaration of a good horse, and we would
catch up at Box Springs. I only hoped the boys wouldn't do anything
drastic to him before my arrival.

So I jogged along at the little running walk possessed by even the most
humble cattle horse, and enjoyed the evening. It was going on toward
dusk and pools of twilight were in the bottomlands. For the moment the
world had grown smaller, more intimate, as the skies expanded. The dust
from Brower's going did not so much recede as grow littler, more
toy-like. I watched idly his progress.

At a point perhaps a mile this side the Box Springs ranch the road
divides: the right-hand fork leading to the ranch house, the left on up
the valley. After a moment I noticed that the dust was on the left-hand
fork. I swore aloud.

"The damn fool has taken the wrong road!" and then after a moment, with
dismay: "He's headed straight for Hooper's ranch!"

I envisaged the full joy and rapture of this thought for perhaps half a
minute. It sure complicated matters, what with old Hooper gunning on my
trail, and this partner's daughter shut up behind bars. Me, I expected
to last about two days unless I did something mighty sudden. Brower I
expected might last approximately half that time, depending on how soon
Ramon _et al_ got busy. The girl I didn't know anything about, nor did I