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 fallen. The young man in the buggy put his foot out on the little iron step, his face a lively reflection of completely baffled understanding. He looked at Coburn's retreating figure, screwing around slowly then to stare at Simpson. He didn't have enough sense left in one place to make up a word.

What would that remarkable ass of a cowman say when he learned he was out a horse? Simpson wondered. Coburn had not seen the animal Mrs. Ellison had supplied him on his word that he would return it as soon as possible. There was money in that fool bag; Simpson had a glimpse of it when the cowman tore it open and thrust his hand into it, turning the bundles of banknotes to make sure no substitution had been effected. If he had it in him to be so meanly suspicious when his money was in his hands, he doubtless was small enough to kick up a rumpus over the horse.

Working for a man like that was out of the question, even though Coburn would want him after that experience, which was not likely. Simpson dismissed the possibility of a job on that ranch then and there. He went in and got the belt and holster of his borrowed gun from under the bunk where he had slept. When he came out the livery driver was unharnessing the weary team.

"Hell! That damn gripsack was full of money!" the young man said.

"Was it?" said Simpson, unmoved and unconcerned.

"It sure was! I seen it when he was rammin' his hand down in it. Sa-a-y man!"

The young fellow looked at Simpson as he made that