THE ELITE AMUs.e.m.e.nT PARLOR

An hour after breakfast, on Monday morning, Old Heck, Ophelia, Skinny and Carolyn June Were alone at the Quarter Circle KT. Parker and the cowboys were climbing out on the sand-hills north of the Cimarron, traveling in the direction of Battle Ridge, where the beef hunt was to begin.

The circular corral was empty.

The Ramblin' Kid was riding the Gold Dust maverick. Captain Jack was with the saddle horses which Pedro, the Mexican, had wrangled on ahead of the other riders an hour before.

The filly made no effort to throw the Ramblin' Kid on this her second riding. She seemed perfectly willing to carry the burden on her back.

Carolyn June watched the beautiful mare as she stepped lightly and daintily along beside the other horses, and when the group disappeared among the rolling ridges across the river the ranch someway seemed deserted and she felt strangely alone, although Ophelia, Old Heck and Skinny were standing at her side.

Sing Pete followed the riders, jolting along in the grub-wagon, awkwardly driving, with much clucking and pidgin-English, Old Tom and Baldy hitched to the heavy, canvas-covered vehicle with its "box-kitchen" and mess-board protruding gawkily out from the rear.

Old Heck heaved a sigh of relief. There was a feeling of serene peace in his heart, now that Parker and the cowboys were safely away on the round-up. In Skinny's heart the feeling was echoed.

For a week or more they would be able to love Ophelia and Carolyn June without the constant fear of interruption.

Only one thing troubled Old Heck. The widow had not yet exposed her hand in that suffragette movement or whatever it was. He dreaded the form in which it might, sooner or later, break out. But at that he would be glad to have it over. At present he felt as though he were sitting on the edge of a volcano, or above an unexplored blast of dynamite at the bottom of a well. Meanwhile he would have to wait and watch--and hope for the best.

The week that followed was heaven and h.e.l.l, mixed together, for Old Heck and Skinny.

The women were lovely and lovable to the last degree, but cautious and tormentingly self-restrained when it came to loving. At the first intimation of dangerous sentimentality on the part of Old Heck the widow would suddenly and without an instant's warning change the subject. When Skinny had been pensive and silent for half an hour or so and would then start, in a halting and quivering voice, to say something, Carolyn June invariably interrupted with a remark about the weather, the Gold Dust maverick, the Ramblin' Kid, Old Heck, Sing Pete, the yellow cat, the coming Rodeo, Ophelia or something else.

They paired on the work of preparing the meals, Carolyn June and Skinny and Ophelia and Old Heck taking shift and shift about in the kitchen. In this way the work was made a joke, with friendly rivalry between the couples in the preparation of tasty dishes.

Old Heck and Skinny surprised the women with their knowledge of cooking.

Nor was there the least embarra.s.sment on the part of either when, with one of Sing Pete's ap.r.o.ns tied about his waist, he worked at the range or kitchen table. As a matter of course every cow-man must know something of how to cook a meal and, also, naturally and as a matter of course, Old Heck and Skinny, without the slightest thought that it was "womanish" or beneath the "dignity" of men, peeled potatoes, fried meat, washed dishes or did whatever there was to do.

Indeed each was proud of his skill.

Ophelia herself was clever, particularly at making biscuits and dainty salads.

Carolyn June's sole accomplishment in the art of preparing food was the making of coffee-jelly. This she had learned at college--taught, perhaps, by the other girls during stolen midnight frolics. Probably this, also, was the reason she usually made it the last thing at night before Skinny and Old Heck left to go to the bunk-house. Coffee-jelly was the regular, inevitable, evening meal dessert for the entire week.

"It ain't so very filling," Skinny remarked the first time he tasted the delicate dish, "but it's tender and has a dandy flavor!"

Carolyn June blushed at the compliment.

"It is pretty good," Old Heck agreed, "but these biscuits Ophelia made are just what was needed to set it off!"

The widow smilingly showed her pleasure.

Twice during the week Skinny rode "line" on the big pasture to look after the Diamond Bar steers. Carolyn June accompanied him. Each time she rode Browny, the old cow-horse. On these days Old Heck and Ophelia, in the Clagstone "Six," drove to Eagle b.u.t.te. The second trip to town Ophelia asked to be left at the minister's house. Old Heck was to call in an hour and get her. During the hour he slipped into the dentist's and had his teeth cleaned. When the tobacco-blackened tartar was sc.r.a.ped away they were surprisingly white and even. He stopped at the drug store and bought a tooth-brush and a tube of paste.

Ophelia noticed the wonderful improvement in his appearance, guessed the reason, and the thought sent a warm thrill through her body.

"Like a big boy," she laughed to herself, "when he begins to wash his neck and ears!"

"It ain't healthy to have your teeth so dirty," Old Heck explained, coloring and in an apologizing manner, when Skinny discovered him, after supper that evening, carefully scrubbing his molars.

Skinny watched the performance, saw the result, and murmured:

"Guess I'll get me one of them layouts!"

On Friday the quartette went to Eagle b.u.t.te, Old Heck driving, with Ophelia beside him, and Carolyn June and Skinny in the rear seat of the Clagstone "Six."

It was on this trip, while Ophelia and Carolyn June were in the Golden Rule doing some shopping, that Old Heck and Skinny strolled into the Elite Amus.e.m.e.nt Parlor. Lafe Dorsey, owner of the Y-Bar outfit and to whom belonged the black Thunderbolt horse; Newt Johnson, Dave Stover and "Flip" Williams--the latter three cowboys on the big Vermejo ranch--were playing a four-handed game of billiards at one of the tables near the front of the place.

Dorsey noticed the entrance of the pair from the Quarter Circle KT. All were range men and were well known to one another. The Y-Bar owner had been drinking. Boot-leg liquor was obtainable, if one knew how and where, in Eagle b.u.t.te.

"h.e.l.lo, there, Old Heck!" Dorsey greeted them hilariously and with a half-leer. "Howdy, Skinny! How's the Cimarron? Don't reckon you've taught Old Quicksilver to run yet, have you?" with a boisterous laugh as he referred to the race in which Thunderbolt had defeated Old Heck's crack stallion.

The taunt stung Old Heck while it called out a suppressed snicker from the cowboys who were with Dorsey and the loafers in the pool-room. The bull-like guffaw of Mike Sabota, the gorilla-built, half-Greek proprietor of the Amus.e.m.e.nt Parlor roared out above the ripple of laughter from the others. The racing feud between the Y-Bar and the Quarter Circle KT was well known to all and Sabota himself had cleaned up a neat sum when the black horse from the Vermejo had outstepped the runner from the Quarter Circle KT.

Old Heck reddened at Dorsey's words but replied quietly:

"The Cimarron is middling--just middlin'. No, we ain't been paying much attention to teaching horses how to run lately. Old Quicksilver's pretty fair. Of course he ain't the best horse in the world but he'll do for cows and general knocking around. Horses are a good deal like men, you know, Dorsey--there's always one that's a little bit better!"

The Vermejo cow-man colored at the thrust.

"Any of you Quarter Circle KT fellers going in on anything at the Rodeo, this year?" one of the Y-Bar riders asked Skinny before Dorsey could reply.

"Charley said he might go in on the 'bull-d.o.g.g.i.ng' and Bert is figuring some on the bucking events--but I don't reckon they'll either one enter," Skinny carelessly; "both of them got first money in them entries last year and they ain't caring much. The Mexican," referring to Pedro, "will probably do some roping--"

"What about you and the Ramblin' Kid?" Flip Williams interrupted, "ain't neither of you going to take part?"

"Probably not," Skinny drawled. "I ain't aiming to, and I don't know what th' Ramblin? Kid is figuring on. He ain't much for showing off. He only rode in the bucking contest last year because after that Cyclone horse killed d.i.c.k Stanley everybody said there wasn't any one that could ride him and the blamed little fool just wanted to demonstrate that there was. You never can tell what he'll do, though. He may be intending to go in on something or other."

"Guess you people ain't got anything out there for the two-mile sweepstakes this year, have you?" Dorsey broke in with a sneer. "Old Thunderbolt's too much for them sand-hill jumpers from the Cimarron."

"Oh, I don't know as he is," Old Heck said in a voice emotionless as an Indian's. "The Quarter Circle KT will probably be represented in the big event. It seems to me I heard Chuck mention entering that Silver Tip colt of his and, let's see, I believe th' Ramblin' Kid said something about running a new filly he's been riding some, didn't he, Skinny?"

"Since I come to think of it I believe he did," Skinny answered as if it were a matter without especial interest; "if I remember right he did speak something of it a day or two ago."

"Well, bring 'em on!" Dorsey exclaimed boastfully, "the Y-Bar will take all the money you Kiowa fellers feel like contributing! Old Thunderbolt's as fit as a new rawhide rope and is just aching to rake in another three or four thousand of Quarter Circle KT _dinero_ if you people have got the nerve to back your judgment!"

There was a dead hush as the crowd in the pool-room waited for Old Heck's reply to Dorsey's drunken challenge.

"We'll kind of remember that invitation, Dorsey," Old Heck said in tones as hard and smooth and cold as ice, while his gray eyes narrowed and bored the boastful cow-man like points of steel, "we'll sort of bear in mind that suggestion of yours. The Quarter Circle KT will send a horse into the big race that will beat that Thunderbolt critter of yours just three times as bad as he set old Quicksilver back--and we'll give you action on any amount of money, cattle or anything else you want to name!

You can put your friends here in on it too, if you want to--" with a scornful glance around the pool-room at the loafers in the place. "Come on, Skinny," he added as he started toward the door, "more than likely Ophelia and Carolyn June are through with their trading and ready to go home."

All stood silent until Skinny and Old Heck stepped out of the door, then Mike Sabota broke into a coa.r.s.e, taunting laugh. As they turned up the street Old Heck and Skinny heard Dorsey and the crowd inside join in the merriment.

"d.a.m.n that fool, Dorsey!" Old Heck exclaimed viciously, as he heard the shouts of derisive laughter. "I'm going to wipe him out on that race--if he's got the guts to come across and back up that Thunderbolt horse as hard as he blows about him!"

"I think I'll hook Sabota for a few hundred on the sweepstakes, myself,"

Skinny replied with a good deal of feeling, "I don't like the way that dirty cuss acts any better than I like Dorsey's bragging!"

Carolyn June and Ophelia were waiting when Old Heck and Skinny arrived at the Golden Rule.