“There is something going forward that Mike wishes me to see,” though Eric, as he hurried off to the livery stable.  “That is why he took Patty away.”

A crowd of gamblers were just putting up a pair of riders on two horses.

“Hey, Eric Tallman, you used to own this horse.  Can he beat this rat-tailed kyoodle that runs after steers?”

Eric laid a hand fondly on the magnificent black “half breed,” who had just enough mustang to give him the stamina and spirit and wildness characteristic of the Spanish-bred horse.

“Keep him on a steady rein and he’ll beat anything in the mountains.  I’d never have sold him except — .”  He sighed, turning to the cattle horse.  She was long necked, long legged, long haired, wall-eyed, lean, and badly in need of currying, and yet Irish Mike was no fool, and Mike knew Eric’s extremity — his and the girl’s whom he loved.

He noted the deep, broad chest, the tapering barrel and the tremendous driving power in the steel muscles of the hind quarters, but she drooped, spiritless.  He turned again to the satin-coated half-breed.

“Any dust up yet?”

“Ye-aw, about ten thousand.  Old fool seems to be well heeled.  We’ve got ‘im full to the eyes, down at String-halt Eddie’s place, an’ the boys are goin’ to try the plugs out before they put up any more.”  Two trial races were ridden and the sad cow horse was outrun with apparent ease.

The next morning as Patty went on her daily stroll to “take the air,” her way was blocked by a clamoring crowd of undesirables who were baiting a miserable old cattle man.

“I tell ye, gentlemen, I was indisposed.  ’Twas the liquor talking.  Surely you would not take advantage of a poor old man and his honest, hard-working little mount.  Every day of her life she works.  Gentlemen, I beg you — "

“Begging will get you nothing better than a good drubbing, you filthy cattle lout!  If you don’t pay up your bets, we’ll take it out of your hide.  I, for one, have a special use for my money at the week’s end.”

It was Slick-heels Saul.  Patty turned aside, sick at heart.  This was the creature in whose power she was “like to fall.”

Upon her return she found the old cowboy sitting dejectedly under a liveoak bush.  “Sir,” she began timidly, “you are in trouble.  I should like to express my sympathy.”

He rose with suspicious nimbleness.  “Now, bless your kind heart, Miss, to stop to console a sad old man.”

“I overheard what Mr. Saul said to you, sir.  He is — "

“Without doubt, without doubt, he is everything you mention.  Could you, now, be Mistress Patty Laughton, of Kentucky?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I knew your Grandfather Laughton, my child, and since I came here I have heard-of you,” he finished, with innate delicacy.  Indeed, who had not heard her story?

She opened her silken reticule and drew forth a small, buckskin bag.  “Will you not accept it?” Yesterday, at the claims, I panned it out myself.  I am sorry for your plight.  I am sorry for anyone in the clutches of Slick-heels Saul.”