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Steve was on the spot to join heartily the murmur of applause,

for he was too good a sportsman to grudge admiration even to his

enemy.

"You're the one best bet in riders, Mr. Briscoe. It's a pleasure

to watch you," he said frankly.

Jed's narrowed eyes drifted to him. "Oh, hell!" he drawled with

insolent contempt, and turned on his heel.

From the clump of firs a young woman was descending, and Jed went

to meet her.

"You rode splendidly," she told him with vivid eyes. "Were you

hurt when you were jammed again the wagon? I mean, does it still

hurt?" For she noticed that he walked with a limp.

"I reckon I can stand the grief without an amputation. Arlie, I

got something to tell you."

She looked at him in her direct fashion and waited.

"It's about your new friend." He drew from a pocket some leaves

torn out of a magazine. His finger indicated a picture. "Ever see

that gentleman before?"

The girl looked at it coolly. "It seems to be Mr. Fraser taken in

his uniform; Lieutenant Fraser, I should say."