“You’re back, then, and you got Diablo?”

“Look yonder.”

Jack Hood went to the box stall and came back rubbing his hands, but his exultation was cut short by Riley’s remark.  “He doesn’t belong to Hal.  Hal was thrown and another gent rode him.”

The amazement of Jack Hood took the shape of a wild torrent of profanity.  He was proud of the ranch which he had controlled for so long, and still prouder of his young master.  His creed included two main points—­the essential beauty of his daughter and the infallibility of young Hal Dunbar; consequently his great ambition was to unite the two.

“Mary took to Hunter pretty kindly,” concluded Riley, as they walked back toward the house at the conclusion of the story.

The foreman took off his hat and shook back his long, iron-gray hair.

“Trust her for that.  Something new is always what she wants.”

“They’ve got the new well pretty near sunk,” said Riley.  “Take a look at it?”

“All right.”

But before they had gone halfway down the path onto which Riley had cunningly diverted the older man, he caught Hood’s arm and stopped him with a whisper.

“Look at that. Already! This Hunter ain’t such a slow worker, eh, Jack?”

They had come in view of the little terraced garden which was Mary’s particular property; it was screened from the house by a rank or two of the spruce, and on a rustic bench, seated with their backs to the witnesses, were Mary and Bull Hunter.  The girl was rapt in attention, and her eyes never left the face of Hunter.  As for Bull, he was talking steadily, and it seemed to Jack Hood that as the big stranger talked he leaned closer and closer to the girl.  The hint which Riley had already dropped was enough to inflame the imagination of the suspicious foreman; what he now saw was totally conclusive, he thought.  Now, under his very eyes, he saw the big man stretch out his hand, and he saw the hand of Mary dropped into it.

It was more than Riley had dared to hope for.  He caught Jack Hood by the shoulders, and whirled him around, and half dragged him back to the house.

“Not in front of your daughter, Jack,” he pleaded.  “I don’t blame you for being mad when a skunk like that starts flirting with a girl the first day he’s seen her.  But if you got anything to say to him, wait till Mary is out of the way.  There goes the supper bell.  Hurry on in.  Keep hold on yourself.”

“Do I have to sit through supper and look at that hound?”

“Not at all,” suggested the cunning Riley.  “Have a bite in the kitchen and go up to your room.  I’ll say that you got some figures to run over.  Afterward, you can come down and jump him!”

He watched Jack Hood disappear, grinning faintly, and then hunted for Hal Dunbar.

“It’s started,” he said.  “I dropped a word in Jack’s ear and then showed him the two of ’em sitting together.  It was like a spark in the powder.  The old boy exploded.”