"I reckon thar's more whar that cam from! Ye needn't fear but that she kin keep up that gait ez long ez Hiram McKinstry hez the runnin' of her." Mr.Ford gazed hopelessly at the hideous ranch in the distance, at the sky, and the trail before him; then his glance fell upon the hand still upon his shoulder, and he struggled with a final effort.

"At another time I'd like to have a long talk with you about your daughter, Mr.
McKinstry." "Talk on," said McKinstry, putting his wounded hand through the master's arm.

"I admire to hear you.

You're that kam, it does me good." Nevertheless the master was conscious that his own arm was scarcely as firm as his companion's.

It was however useless to draw back now, and with as much tact as he could command he relieved his mind of its purpose.