I’ll give you five hundred in gold an’ Sarchedon to boot.”

Creech looked as if he had not heard aright. Bostil repeated the offer.

“No,” replied Creech.

“I’ll make it a thousand an’ throw Plume in with Sarch,” flashed Bostil.

“No!” Creech turned pale and swallowed hard.

“Two thousand an’ Dusty Ben along with the others?” This was an unheard-of price to pay for any horse. Creech saw that Bostil was desperate. It was an almost overpowering temptation. Evidently Creech resisted it only by applying all his mind to the thought of his clean-limbed, soft-eyed, noble horse.

Bostil did not give Creech time to speak. “Twenty-five hundred an’ Two Face along with the rest!”

“My God, Bostil—stop it! I can’t PART with Blue Roan. You’re rich an’ you’ve no heart. Thet I always knew. At least to me you never had, since I owned them two racers. Didn’t I beg you, a little time back, to lend me a few hundred? To meet thet debt? An’ you wouldn’t, unless I’d sell the hosses. An’ I had to lose my sheep. Now I’m a poor man—gettin’ poorer all the time. But I won’t sell or trade Blue Roan, not for all you’ve got!”

Creech seemed to gain strength with his speech and passion with the strength. His eyes glinted at the hard, paling face of his rival. He raised a clenching fist.

“An’ by G—d, I’m goin’ to win thet race!”

During that week Lucy had heard many things about Joel Creech, and some of them were disquieting.

Some rider had not only found Joel’s clothes on the trail, but he had recognized the track of the horse Lucy rode, and at once connected her with the singular discovery. Coupling that with Joel’s appearance in the village incased in a heaving armor of adobe, the riders guessed pretty close to the truth. For them the joke was tremendous. And Joel Creech was exceedingly sensitive to ridicule. The riders made life unbearable for him. They had fun out of it as long as Joel showed signs of taking the joke manfully, which was not long, and then his resentment won their contempt. That led to sarcasm on their part and bitter anger on his. It came to Lucy’s ears that Joel began to act and talk strangely. She found out that the rider Van had knocked Joel down in Brackton’s store and had kicked a gun out of his hand. Van laughed off the rumor and Brackton gave her no satisfaction. Moreover, she heard no other rumors. The channels of gossip had suddenly closed to her. Bostil, when questioned by Lucy, swore in a way that amazed her, and all he told her was to leave Creech alone. Finally, when Muncie discharged Joel, who worked now and then, Lucy realized that something was wrong with Joel and that she was to blame for it.

She grew worried and anxious and sorry, but she held her peace, and determined to find out for herself what was wrong. Every day when she rode out into the sage she expected to meet him, or at least see him somewhere; nevertheless days went by and there was no sign of him.

One afternoon she saw some Indians driving sheep down the river road toward the ford, and, acting upon impulse, she turned her horse after them.

Lucy seldom went down the river road. Riding down and up was merely work, and a horse has as little liking for it as she had.