Beatrice was in no mood for an argument--on that subject, at least. She
let Rex out and raced over the prairie at a gait which would have
greatly shocked her mother, who could not understand why Beatrice was
not content to drive sedately about in the carriage with the rest of
them.

When they reached the round-up Keith Cameron left the bunch and rode out
to meet them, and Dick promptly shuffled responsibility for his sister's
entertainment to the square shoulders of his neighbor.

"Trix wants to wise up on the cattle business, Keith. I'll just turn her
over to you for a-while, and let you answer her questions; I can't, half
the time. I want to look through the bunch a little."

Keith's face spoke gratitude, and spoke it plainly. The face of
Beatrice was frankly inattentive. She was watching the restless, moving
mass of red backs and glistening horns, with horsemen weaving in and out
among them in what looked to her a perfectly aimless fashion--until one
would wheel and dart out into the open, always with a fleeing animal
lumbering before. Other horsemen would meet him and take up the chase,
and he would turn and ride leisurely back into the haze and confusion.
It was like a kaleidoscope, for the scene shifted constantly and was
never quite the same.

Keith, secure in her absorption, slid sidewise in the saddle and
studied her face, knowing all the while that he was simply storing up
trouble for himself. But it is not given a man to flee human nature, and
the fellow who could sit calmly beside Beatrice and not stare at her if
the opportunity offered must certainly have the blood of a fish in his