hints--of Prince Charming. Forrest's seemed a more efficient and
formidable organism, more dangerous to other life, stouter-gripped on
its own life.

Forrest threw a glance at his wrist watch as he talked, but in that
glance, without pause or fumble of focus, with swift certainty of
correlation, he read the dial.

"Eleven-thirty," he said. "Come along at once, Graham. We don't eat
till twelve-thirty. I am sending out a shipment of bulls, three
hundred of them, and I'm downright proud of them. You simply must see
them. Never mind your riding togs. Oh Ho--fetch a pair of my leggings.
You, Oh Joy, order Altadena saddled.--What saddle do you prefer,
Graham?"

"Oh, anything, old man."

"English?--Australian?--McClellan?--Mexican?" Dick insisted.

"McClellan, if it's no trouble," Graham surrendered.

They sat their horses by the side of the road and watched the last of
the herd beginning its long journey to Chili disappear around the
bend.

"I see what you're doing--it's great," Graham said with sparkling
eyes. "I've fooled some myself with the critters, when I was a
youngster, down in the Argentine. If I'd had beef-blood like that to
build on, I mightn't have taken the cropper I did."