The words “next time” recalled the lad to the fact that, dolorous as was the hour, life was still worth living, and future fishing called. By the time Ben got him back to the cabin he was almost cheerful again. Modoc served them with something to eat, and after they had talked awhile it was time for Marvie to leave.

“Ben, I’d rather live here with you than in our big house on Tule Lake,” he said, from the back of his pony. “An’ I’ll bet Ina would, too.”

“Pard, it’s different with girls—about homes,” returned Ben, trying to be natural when he wanted to stand on his head. “We fellows like the open range, you know, horses and outdoor work, hunting, and sure, fishing. But girls like comfort, luxury, people, amusement, and all that.”

“Mebbe, some of them. But not Ina. She loves all those things you said, same as you an’ me. Besides, she’s crazy about you, Ben. Aw, she’s a girl an’ she can’t fool me. I know darned well she is.”

He rode away, leaving Ben standing there as still and staring as if lightning had struck him. And that mental fixity, if not the physical, abided with him in the cabin, where he lay on his couch for a long while, staring straight through the rough shingles of the roof. He roused, at length, to the ring of iron–shod hoofs on stone. Going outside, he espied Nevada riding up. He had forgotten Nevada completely, and at sudden sight of him the former anxiety and dread returned tenfold.

“Where you been?” he queried, shortly, as Nevada rode up.

“Howdy, Ben! Heah you had company?” countered Nevada, nonchalantly. He seemed more than usually his virile, cool, and lazy self. Ben groaned inwardly. How he loved this lithe, long–haired, dark–skinned rider!

“Where you been?” repeated Ben, impatiently.

“Me? Oh, I been ridin’ around over the lone countree,” returned Nevada, as he stepped out of his saddle.

“Where the hell have you been?” shouted Ben. His partner was most irritating to contemplate when he wore this gay, cool, aloof mask.

Nevada turned from uncinching his saddle and gazed with mild amaze at his friend.

“Ben, you’re shore powerful curious aboot me.”

“Yes, and I’m quite capable of licking you good,” declared Ben.

“Wal, reckon you’ve got the ornery cross–grained disposition too, but, Ben, old pard, you ain’t big an’ strong enough to lick me.”

“For Heaven’s sake, don’t torment me now with your cowboy gags. I want to know. Did you ride off to find Less Setter?”

“Ben, it wouldn’t have done no good if I had. Setter’s away gettin’ new teeth, so I heah.”

“Answer me, did you ride out to meet him? If you went without a word to me, I’m going to take it pretty hard.”

“Wal, pard, fact is, if I gotta be honest, I never thought of that pop–eyed rustler boss.”

“Nevada, you wouldn’t lie to me?”

“No, ’cept for your own good.”