Connie rushed forward and snatched the child up in her arms. With the riders bearing down upon her, she dived head foremost, rolling over and over at the side of the track. The horses thundered past, and were lost in a cloud of dust.

The crowd, thrilled by Connie’s act of bravery, surged forward. In vain the guards sought to keep the arena clear. Friendly hands seized Connie and the child, lifting them to their feet.

The little girl was crying piteously, but more from fright than because she had been hurt. Her only injury was a slight bruise on her arm.

“Are you all right, Baby?” Connie asked.

“You threw me down in the dirt,” the little girl said accusingly. “Just look at my pretty dress! I’m not a baby either!”

“Of course you’re not,” agreed Connie soothingly. “What is your name?”

Just at that moment a stout gentleman came hurrying up. He caught the child in his arms, hugging her tightly. Without saying a word he brushed the child’s disheveled hair out of her eyes and mopped the dirt from her face with his handkerchief.

“I don’t believe she’s hurt, sir,” declared Connie. “Only shaken up a bit.”

The old gentleman seemed too shocked by the accident to make any reply. Connie started to move away.

“No, wait, please,” he requested. “You saved my granddaughter’s life. I must talk with you.”

“Anyone would have done the same, sir,” Connie responded, smiling. “I just happened to be close to the fence.”

“I saw it all,” the old man declared. “You risked your life to save the child. It was magnificent.”

“Oh, hardly that,” said Connie, flushing with embarrassment.

“I didn’t know Doris had wandered away until I saw her on the track,” the old gentleman went on. “I was stunned—paralyzed for I thought surely she would be killed. The child is all I have in the world.”

“I quite understand,” Connie murmured.

“I haven’t told you my name,” the man said offering an engraved card. “I am James Postil.”

Connie, after introducing herself, glanced at the card, noticing that it bore a New York address. She remarked that Mr. Postil was a long way from home.

“Yes, I am spending my vacation in the Southwest,” he explained. “My granddaughter and I came out here to live at one of these dude ranches for a few weeks.”

“I hope you found a nice place and that you’re having an enjoyable time,” Connie said pleasantly.

“It hasn’t turned out that way yet. I was looking for a nice, quiet ranch where Doris could run wild and grow healthy and strong. Perhaps you’ve heard of Silverhorn Ranch?”

“Oh, yes,” nodded Connie, “only it isn’t really a ranch at all. Don’t you find it more on the order of a big tourist hotel?”

“That’s it exactly! Something going on from morning to night. I’ve made up my mind to move out. But you’re not interested in my difficulties. Tell me about yourself.”

“There is really nothing to tell,” said Connie evasively.

“You are too modest, I fear,” smiled the old gentleman. “I remember you now. You are the young lady who won the bronco riding contest. Come, let’s go somewhere away from the crowd. I’d like to talk with you.”

By this time Connie had gathered that James Postil was a man of considerable wealth, and she half suspected that he meant to offer her money for saving his grandchild. Of course she would refuse.

Mr. Postil seemed to sense the girl’s attitude, for he led up to the subject very gradually. First he told her more about himself. The head of a large manufacturing company in the east, he found himself at sixty-eight, lonely and alone in the world save for his one grandchild.

“I’ve done my best to raise her up right,” he told Connie, “but Doris has been too much under the care of a governess. That’s why I cut loose this summer and brought her out here. I thought I’d try to give her a little personal looking-after. So far the idea hasn’t turned out very well.”

“You’ll probably find a more satisfactory place to stay than Silverhorn Ranch, Mr. Postil. I can understand that it wouldn’t be suitable for Doris at all.”

“Here I am, talking about myself again,” declared Mr. Postil. “I’ve not given you an opportunity to tell me a thing about yourself.”

Connie had not meant to reveal any of her personal troubles, but she found the old gentleman a most sympathetic listener. He interposed a question here and there and before she knew it he had learned the entire story of her financial difficulties.

“I don’t believe you need to worry any more,” Mr. Postil said briskly. “How much is your bank loan?”

“Oh, I didn’t mean——”

“I know you didn’t, young lady,” smiled Mr. Postil, “but it happens that I owe you a great debt for saving the life of my grandchild. Doris means more to me than anything in the world. Now I’ll be only too happy to give you enough money——”

“Oh, no,” broke in Connie. “I couldn’t take a penny.”

“Call it a loan then.”

Connie was sorely tempted but she shook her head.

“I really think I’ll be able to weather the storm unaided,” she insisted. “With the seven hundred and fifty dollars I won today, I’ll fix the ranch up a bit and advertise for summer boarders. Then if the bank learns I am going ahead in a profitable way, my note may be extended.”

Mr. Postil asked Connie many questions about Rainbow Ranch. With no conscious attempt to exaggerate she described the wonderful fishing streams and the lake.

“We have an extra special attraction, too,” she added. “The ruins of ancient cliff dwellings. My father discovered them in the canyon years ago, and experts say they are in as fine a state of preservation as any ruins in the Southwest.”

“Why, you have everything at your ranch,” declared Mr. Postil enthusiastically. “I’ve been trying to find just such a place. How about taking Doris and me as your first paying guests?”

“Why, I’d like to have you,” Connie stammered, “only the ranch house isn’t fixed up. The food would be plain and there wouldn’t be any frills.”

“That’s exactly what I want,” Mr. Postil insisted. “I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I’ll finish out the week at Silverhorn, then Monday morning I’ll come to your place, and I may be able to round up a few other guests for you. Here’s a couple weeks’ board and room money in advance.”

The old gentleman handed her two bills.

“Why, you’ve given me a hundred dollars!” Connie protested. “I can’t accept that much.”

“Take it, take it,” Mr. Postil urged carelessly. “I’m a very cranky old man and require a lot of service. You’ll find it will be worth that much to keep me.”

Connie was quite overcome by her good fortune. She tried to thank Mr. Postil for his generosity.

“I’m doing myself the service,” he declared. “I’ll get busy right away and see if I can’t locate those friends of mine. If I have any luck I’ll send you word.”

“But you’ve not even seen the ranch,” Connie protested. “You may not like it at all.”

“I have no worry on that score,” said Mr. Postil confidently.

After he and Doris had walked away, Connie stood for several minutes with the money held tightly in her hand. It did not seem possible that so many wonderful things could have happened in one day. Yet it was true.

“I can’t help but succeed if Mr. Postil brings his rich friends to the ranch,” she thought excitedly. “But I’ll need to hire extra household help and redecorate the bedrooms. Oh, I have a million things I must do.”

Connie wandered about the rodeo ground searching for Alkali or Lefty. She felt she had to tell someone about her good fortune, but apparently both cowboys had drifted away from the arena.

Finally she gave up the search, and presenting her check at the rodeo office, received cash in the amount of seven hundred and fifty dollars. Connie pinned the bills together and fastened the roll inside her shirt pocket.

It was after six o’clock by the time she rode Silvertail out of the grounds. The streets still swarmed with people and Red Gulch would be a lively place until the small hours of the morning. But Connie was eager to get back home.

The sky in the west glowed rosy pink and slowly darkened. On either side of the lonely road the limestone cliffs were a blaze of reflected color. Connie rode slowly, enjoying the twilight.

As she cantered along she made her plans. With eight hundred and fifty dollars she could remodel the ranch house, hire another Mexican woman to help Marie, and still have money left. With even a few paying guests she soon would have all her debts paid.

Connie whistled a gay little tune. For the first time since she had returned home from the East, she felt entirely happy.

The sun dropped below the horizon line and the distant mountains seemed to cast their dark shadow over the earth. A chill wind sprang up, rustling the ragged branches of the gnarled cedars.

Connie shivered and drew her jacket more closely about her. She could feel the cold numbing her fingers.

Rainbow Ranch was still many miles away. The narrow road wound and twisted as it steadily climbed toward Eagle Pass. Just ahead was a short tunnel bored in the rock. As they approached it, Silvertail quivered and pricked up his ears.

“What’s the matter, old boy?” Connie asked softly.

She thought someone might be approaching from the opposite direction but she heard no one. It had grown so dark that she could not see far ahead. Yet for some reason Connie shared Silvertail’s uneasiness.

She rode into the tunnel. As the walls closed in about her, she glanced nervously over her shoulder. It was as if she could feel a presence. Yet of course there could be no one in the tunnel.

Connie breathed easier as she saw a circle of light ahead. The tunnel had not been longer than fifty feet yet it had seemed six times that length.

Connie relaxed in the saddle, and just at that moment, as she emerged from the tunnel, she heard a horse nicker from the bushes at the side of the road.

Before she could turn her head to look, a man rode out in front of her, deliberately blocking the way. A blue bandana handkerchief had been pulled high over his mouth, and a revolver dangled carelessly from his hand.

“Pass over the money,” he said in a low, grim voice. “And don’t try any tricks!”