The cowboys were nervous.  Memory of last night was fresh in their minds.  It made them cautious in their talk.

Ophelia and Carolyn June, also, were a bit restrained.

They were not sure but they had started more than it would be easy to stop.  The expressions in the eyes of the cowboys paid tribute to the success of the two women’s efforts at wholesale heart-wrecking.  The child-like acceptance of a simple flirtation as the real thing, by these husky riders of the range, was little less than appalling.

It all but frightened Carolyn June and the widow.

Old Heck saw the worship in the eyes of the cowboys.

“Things sure are in a devil of a mix-up!” he growled to himself.

Skinny was so dejected Carolyn June felt half-guilty and tried to cheer him up.  She began talking, in a low voice, directly to the melancholy-looking cowboy.

“To-day—­or some time—­when the others are away,” she said caressingly, “you and I will dance all the dances by ourselves!”

His heart leaped joyously.  He was sorry, now, that he had not put on the white shirt.  He resolved, after a while, to sneak out to the bunk-house and change.

The confidential talk between Carolyn June and Skinny galled Chuck.  He decided to break it up.

“What was your idea in riding the Gold Dust maverick last night?” he said abruptly to the Ramblin’ Kid.

There was a general pause for the answer.  Carolyn June stopped in the middle of a sentence and looked curiously at the Ramblin’ Kid.  He took his time to reply.

“Because I wanted to!” was the slow unsatisfactory retort.

“Why didn’t you wait till to-day, so the rest of us could see how she acted?” Charley asked.

“What do you think you are”—­he started to say—­“a bunch of lawyers cross-examinin’ a witness?” thought better of it and with a careless laugh answered:  “If you’re huntin’ entertainment, why don’t you go up to Eagle Butte to th’ picture show?  Th’ maverick an’ me ain’t no exhibition!”

“Did she buck?” Charley continued, ignoring the sarcastic remark.

“Some,” the Ramblin’ Kid drawled.

“What you going to do with the filly while we’re out on the beef hunt?” Chuck queried, wishing to keep the conversation general.

“Ride her!” was the laconic reply.

“Ain’t you afraid she’ll break away from the caballero and you’ll lose her again?” Charley asked.

“When I ain’t usin’ her I’ll ‘neck’ her to Captain Jack,” the Ramblin’ Kid answered patiently, referring to the method of fastening a wild horse to one that is gentle and prevent its running away, by attaching a short length of rope to the neck of each.  “I don’t believe she’d leave th’ stallion anyhow!”

“By golly,” Chuck said earnestly and half-pleadingly, “I wish you’d put her against that Y-Bar outfit’s Thunderbolt horse in the two-mile sweepstakes this year!  It would be—­”