convince George that he was unpopular with the objects of his democratic
affections. Such a conclusion was, to him, too absurd to be entertained,
no matter how many experiences might support it. If opportunity offered
he doubtless would propose to Y.D.'s daughter that very night--and get a
boxed ear for his pains.

The Y.D. creek had crossed its valley, shouldering close against the
base of the foothills to the right. Here the current had created a
precipitous cutbank, and to avoid it and the stream the trail wound over
the side of the hill. As they crested a corner the silver ribbon of the
Y.D. was unravelled before them, and half a dozen miles down its
course the ranch buildings lay clustered in a grove of cottonwoods and
evergreens. All the great valley lay warm and pulsating in a flood
of yellow sunshine; the very earth seemed amorous and content in the
embrace of sun and sky. The majesty of the view seized even the unpoetic
souls of Linder and Drazk, and because they had no other means of
expression they swore vaguely and relapsed into silence.

Hoof-beats again sounded by the wagon side. It was Transley.

"Oh, here you are, Drazk. How long do you reckon it would take you to
ride down to the Y.D. on that Pete-horse?" Transley was a leader of men.

Drazk's eyes sparkled at the subtle compliment to his horse.

"I tell you, Boss," he said, "if there's any jackrabbits in the road
they'll get tramped on."

"I bet they will," said Transley, genially. "Well, you just slide down
and tell Y.D. we're coming in. She's going to be later than I figured,