words, but not taking their gaze from Grace Harlowe's face for an
instant.

"The bunch reckoned, too, that bein' a champeen mebby you'd take a
little present from 'em. I ain't much on spreadin' the dough, even
if I have some gab," added Bud, floundering for the rest of his
speech.

"Bud, I'm just as excited as you are, and, were I in your place, I
should not know what to say next," comforted Grace seriously.
"What is it that the 'bunch' wished you to give to me?"

Bud reached a hand behind him, whereupon his companion placed
something in it. Emma Dean whispered to Nora that it looked like a
blacksnake all coiled up and ready to jump.

"This here," resumed the cowboy, holding up the coil that had been
passed to him, "is a real Mexican lariat, made by a Greaser, but
real horsehair, and warranted not to kink or to miss in the hands
of a lady. The bunch reckons they'd like to give it to you to
remember 'em by," concluded Bud, stepping forward and handing the
lariat to Grace.

"Bud--boys, I don't need anything to make me remember you, but of
course I will accept your thoughtful gift. I never threw a rope
and could not hit the side of a barn with one, but now that you
have given me this beautiful piece of rope I am going to learn to
throw it. Mr. Lang, will you teach me how to rope--to throw the
lasso?"