but I can't hurry the work horses. You know that, Drazk."

"Sure I do, Boss," said Drazk, springing into his saddle. "Just watch
me lose myself in the dust." Then, to himself, "Here's where I beat the
boss to it."

The sun had fallen behind the mountains, the valley was filled with
shadow, the afterglow, mauve and purple and copper, was playing far up
the sky when Transley's outfit reached the Y.D. corrals. George Drazk
had opened the gate and waited beside it.

"Y.D. wants you an' Linder to eat with him at the house," he said as
Transley halted beside him. "The rest of us eat in the bunk-house."
There was something strangely modest in Drazk's manner.

"Had yours handed to you already?" Linder managed to banter in a low
voice as they swung through the gate.

"Hell!" protested Mr. Drazk. "A fellow that ain't a boss or a foreman
don't get a look-in. Never even seen her.... Come, you Pete-horse!" It
was evident George had gone back to his first love.

The wagons drew up in the yard, and there was a fine jingle of harness
as the teamsters quickly unhitched. Y.D. himself approached through the
dusk; his large frame and confident bearing were unmistakable even in
that group of confident, vigorous men.

"Glad to see you, Transley," he said cordially. "You done well out
there. 'So, Linder! You made a good job of it. Come up to the house--I
reckon the Missus has supper waitin'. We'll find a room for you up