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The pair looked at each other behind my neck for full ten seconds. Then the younger man leaned to his horse's mane in a silent laugh while Sergeant Jim looked me over again and remarked that he would be horn-swoggled!

A sweet color was I. "Yes, that's what I said; Cockerel. Isn't your last name Cockerel?"

The aunt and her nieces were standing in the carry-all, she majestic, they laughing and weeping in the one act. I waved them into their seats.

"Yes," I replied, "in that direction."

"I am to know Miss Rothvelt by finding her in a certain place." My honeyed bow implied that her being just now very much out of place was no fault of mine.

"My God! she shall not!" I cried, and whirled about and galloped back.

"Good-morning," I murmured.

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