leapt to the suggestion of what the offspring of such a pair must be.
The men of the cattle country have a proper appreciation of heredity....

"My wife--Mr. Transley, Mr. Linder," said the rancher, with a
courtliness which sat strangely on his otherwise rough-and-ready speech.
"I been tellin' her the fine job you boys has made in the hay fields,
an' I reckon she's got a bite of supper waitin' you."

"Y.D. has been full of your praises," said the woman. There was a touch
of culture in her manner as she received them, which Y.D.'s hospitality
did not disclose.

She led them into another room, where a table was set for five. Linder
experienced a tang of happy excitement as he noted the number. Linder
allowed himself no foolishness about women, but, as he sometimes sagely
remarked to George Drazk, you never can tell what might happen. He shot
a quick glance at Transley, but the contractor's face gave no sign. Even
as he looked Linder thought what an able face it was. Transley was not
more than twenty-six, but forcefulness, assertion, ability, stood in
every line of his clean-cut features. He was such a man as to capture at
a blow the heart of old Y.D., perhaps of Y.D.'s daughter.

"Where's Zen?" demanded the rancher.

"She'll be here presently," his wife replied. "We don't have Mr.
Transley and Mr. Linder every night, you know," she added, with a smile.

"Dolling up," thought Linder. "Trust a woman never to miss a bet."

But at that moment a door opened, and the girl appeared. She did not