"It's a pity he didn't succeed!" Old Heck exclaimed. "The d.a.m.ned filthy whelp--excuse me, Ophelia, for cussing, but I just had to say It!"

"It's all right," was the laughing rejoinder, "I--I--wanted to say it myself!"

Carolyn June's eyes glowed. Her heart felt as if a weight had been lifted from it So, the Ramblin' Kid had kept the odd souvenir, and he cared--he cared!

"Go ahead," she whispered to Skinny; "what then?"

"I reckon that's about all," Skinny answered. "Th' Ramblin' Kid smashed Sabota and as he staggered back, picked up the ribbon--then he didn't quit till he thought the Greek was dead. Tom Poole arrested him, but th'

Ramblin' Kid got the drop on him and got away. He was justified in beating Sabota up anyhow," he added, "on account of the dirty cuss hiring a feller to 'dope' him so he couldn't ride the maverick the day of the big race--"

"'Dope' him?" Old Heck interrupted, puzzled.

"Yes," Skinny explained, "the Greek had a feller named Gyp Streetor put some stuff in th' Ramblin? Kid's coffee. He wasn't drunk at all--he was just poisoned with 'knock-out!'"

"Good lord!" Old Heck exclaimed. "And he rode that race when he was drugged! While we all thought he'd gone to pieces and was drunk!"

Carolyn June's cheeks suddenly turned pale. He cared, but he was gone!

Perhaps never to come back! It seemed as if an iron hand was clutching at her throat!

She and Ophelia went into the hotel and Old Heck and Skinny drove the car over to the stock-yards where the cattle were being loaded.

After Parker and the cowboys were on their way east with the steers and before he returned to the ranch Old Heck went into the room in which Sabota lay. The Greek's head was a ma.s.s of white bandages. His eyes battered and swollen shut, he could not see the face of his visitor.

For a moment Old Heck looked at him, his lips parted in a smile of contempt lightened with satisfaction.

"Well, Sabota," he said at last, "th' Ramblin' Kid didn't quite do his duty, did he? If he had gone as far as he ought to you wouldn't be laying there--they'd just about now be hiding your dirty carca.s.s under six feet of 'dobe!'"

Sabota mumbled some guttural, unintelligible reply.

"Listen, you infernal skunk," Old Heck went on coldly, "as quick as you're able to travel you'll find Eagle b.u.t.te's a right good place to get away from! You understand what I mean. If I catch you around, well, I won't use no fists!" And without waiting for an answer he turned and left the room.

The owner of the Quarter Circle KT then hunted lip the marshal of Eagle b.u.t.te.

"Tom," he said, "I reckon you'll be looking some for th' Ramblin' Kid, after what happened last night, won't you?"

The marshal had heard of Sabota's effort to have the young cowboy drugged the day of the race and also the immediate cause for the fight.

"Oh, I don't know as I will," he said, "unless the Greek makes some charge or other. I don't imagine he'll do that"

"I know blamed well he won't!" Old Heck interrupted. "But how about th'

Ramblin' Kid putting his gun in your ribs--resisting an officer and so on?"

"Putting his gun in my ribs? Resisting an officer?" the lanky Missourian answered with a sly grin; "who said he put a gun on me--or resisted an officer or anything? I ain't heard nothing about it!"

Two days later Sabota, with the help of "Red" Jackson, managed to get to the Santa Fe station. He was able to travel and he did travel. Jackson said he went to the "Border." Eagle b.u.t.te did not know or care--the Cimarron town was through with him.

When Old Heck, Carolyn June and Ophelia returned to the Quarter Circle KT the evening of the day following the fight, the Gold Dust maverick whinnied lonesomely from the circular corral as the Clagstone "Six"

stopped in front of the house.

"What are we going to do with that filly?" Old Heck asked, looking at the beautiful creature with her head above the bars of the corral gate.

"I am going to ride her!" Carolyn June said softly. "Until the Ramblin'

Kid comes back and claims her she is mine! She loves me and I can handle her!"

"I'm afraid--" Old Heck started to protest.

"You need not be," Carolyn June interrupted, "the Gold Dust maverick and I know each other--she understands me and I understand her--she will be perfectly gentle with me!"

The next day Carolyn June rode the wonderful outlaw mare. It was as she said. The filly was perfectly gentle with her. After that, every day, the girl saddled the Gold Dust maverick and, unafraid, took long rides alone.

The night the cattle were shipped Skinny had supper in Eagle b.u.t.te. He sat alone at a small table at one side of the dining-room in the Occidental Hotel. The cowboy was the picture of utter misery. Parker, Charley, Chuck, Bert were gone to Chicago with steers; the Ramblin' Kid was gone--n.o.body knew where; Skinny's dream about Carolyn June was gone--she didn't love him, she just liked him; even his whisky was gone, he had given it to the hostler at the barn; he didn't have any friends or anything.

"What's the matter, Skinny?" Manilla Endora, the yellow-haired waitress, asked softly, as she stepped up to the table and looked down a moment at the dejected cowboy. There was something in her voice that made Skinny pity himself more than ever. It made him want to cry. "What's wrong?'

Manilla repeated almost tenderly.

"Everything!" Skinny blurted out, dropping his head on his arms. "The whole blamed works is shot to pieces!"

A little smile stole over Manilla's rosy lips.

"I know what it is," she said gently, unreproachfully; "it's that girl, Carolyn June. Yes, it is," as Skinny started to interrupt. "Oh, I don't blame you for falling for her!" she went on. "She is nice--but, well, Skinny-boy," her voice was a caress, "Old Heck's niece is not the sort for you. You and her wouldn't fit at all--the way you wanted--and anyhow, there--there--are others," coloring warmly.

Skinny looked up into the honest blue eyes.

"You ain't sore at me or anything are you, Manilla?" he asked.

"Sore?" she answered. "Of course not!"

Hope sprung again into his heart. "I--I--thought maybe you would be," he stammered.

"Forget it!" she laughed. "The old world still wobbles!"

"Manilla, you--you're a peach!" he cried.

She chuckled. "Did you hear about that dance next Sat.u.r.day night after the picture show?" she asked archly.

"No. Is there one?" with new interest in life.

"Yes," she replied, her lashes drooping demurely; "they say the music is going to be swell."

"If I come in will you--will we--go, Manilla?" he asked eagerly.

They would.

"Poor Skinny," Manilla murmured to herself as she went to the kitchen to get his order, "poor cuss--he can't keep from breaking his heart over every skirt that brushes against him, but"--and she laughed softly--"darn his ugly picture, I like him anyhow!"

After supper Skinny hurried to the Golden Rule store. It was still open.