Molly had quite forgotten that the Langwell girls had arranged a bridge party for her that afternoon. When three o’clock passed and their guest had not returned, Miss Sue Langwell set out to find her.

Bridge was remote from Molly’s mind, but Sue’s interruption was welcomed by old Jackson and he urged the girl to run along. Molly, with pardonable caution, tried to conceal her distraught condition and keep from her friend’s eyes any inkling of what had occurred. To succeed, she allowed herself to be carried off.

With gratitude in his heart, Kent watched the two girls ride away in Sue’s car. It effectually put an end to talk. There had been too much of that already this day. So while Molly played cards and the old man sought forgetfulness in the doing of purely routine business, Johnny talked to old Dan Secor.

Dan had exhausted himself at noon, so Johnny went back to Tony.

Madeiras was in a bad humor. He had been waiting these many hours for Johnny and felt himself slighted, left out of something.

Your Basque is thin-skinned and quick to resent a fancied hurt.

“What’s wrong?” Johnny asked.

“Too much,” replied Tony. “For why I come wit’ you? I don’ lak theese bus’ness, always be left behin’.”

The last hour had frayed Johnny’s nerves. The Basque’s petulance found him without the patience to accept it for what it was. “Don’t ride me, Tony,” he grumbled. “I know what I’m doin’.”

“SÍ! But Madre de Dios, I be dam’ eef I do!”

“Ain’t you willin’ to follow my lead? When you stay back, it’s because it’s best you do. We ain’t on no picnic. Things may break so that you’ll go on and I’ll stay behind.”

“I guess you no stay behin’ much, Johnny.”

“Well, you threw up your job for me. We stick till this thing’s over and we’ve caught on somewhere else.”

“Those job mean not’ing. Tony Madeiras always get job.”

“Then what in hell’s on your mind?”

The Basque grinned. He was getting a little action at last. “Maybe,” he said bombastically, “Tony Madeiras mak’ good deetecteeve, too. But how I know. I don’t get no chance.”

“Just what is it that you want to do?” demanded Johnny.

“Mebbe I go ask Kent for my job. Mebbe somet’ing happen on the Diamond-Bar. Mebbe that old fool t’ink I go back on you, eh? Then Tony Madeiras use hees nose and hees eyes.”

“Good Lord!” Johnny cried as he banged the table. “You’re elected—unanimously! I’m goin’ to Elk Valley in half an hour. You stay behind. Kent’s still here. Meet him. Let him see that you’ve turned me down. He’ll jump at the chance to hire you on. Miss Molly’ll hate you. Play it out, though. If you think you ought to see me, come to the Reservation. The agent will know where I am.”

Tony’s good nature blossomed again. Intrigue held a peculiar bouquet for the Basque. Danger, adventure—hadn’t his race answered to them for centuries?

Ten minutes later Johnny came downstairs by himself. A drink, and a farewell nod to Whitey, the bartender, and he was off.

Kent saw him go, and followed his progress until the boy was lost in the dust and heat waves dancing about the base of Winnemucca Mountain. Turning back to the hotel office the old man saw Tony. The Basque was pounding upon the desk for the clerk. “How much I owe theese place?” he demanded.

“Not a cent. Your pal paid the bill.”

“Johnny Dice, he’s no pal wit’ me,” the Basque announced angrily. “Remember this: Tony Madeiras pay hees own way.”

He knew that Kent was listening, but he never glanced in the cattleman’s direction. Instead, he stamped into the bar and ordered a drink. There he poured into Whitey’s ear the story of his break with Johnny.

“You t’ink I stay behin’, me? No! I am a Madeiras. I belong up front, you bat my life on that.”

Head erect, Tony started for the door. Kent was waiting for him. When the Basque reached the sidewalk the old man stopped him.

“What’s all this talk?” he demanded.

“I’m t’rough wit’ Johnny Dice,” the Basque said explosively. “I lose my job for heem. He say we catch man what keel those fellow at the Rock. How I catch heem, when all the time I’m tol’ to keep shut up—don’ say not’ing, don’ do not’ing. VÁlgame Dios! You t’ink Tony Madeiras ees dam fool?”

“You’ve acted like it,” old Kent declared. “Winter’s comin’ on; you had a good job, but you threw it up for a harum-scarum kid. Didn’t take you long to find out where you stood with him, did it? Smart Alecks don’t go far. Guess you’ll learn.”

“I learn pretty dam’ good, all right,” Tony admitted. “Now I go look for job.”

“You won’t find the lookin’ too good,” the boss of the Diamond-Bar assured him.

“Well, Tony Madeiras ees good vaquero. No man deny that. Mebbe you tak’ me on again, eh?”

Kent was no fool. He had felt this question a full half minute before it was asked. He was only too glad to get the man; but he shrewdly forced the Basque to his knees.

“Well, I don’t know,” he said. “We don’t need men till spring. If I did take you on, chances are you’d be flyin’ up and walkin’ off first time you felt like it. If a man is workin’ for me, he’s workin’ for me. I don’t have to put up with the sort of nonsense you and that slipper-tongue tried to run on me.”

“Mebbe I’m beeg fool once, but not beeg fool twice.”

“If you mean it,” Kent said dictatorially, “you’re on. You got your horse and stuff here, ain’t yuh? Well, git my girl’s pony and head for the ranch. I’ll be there before you come.”

It was the old man’s intention to take the train for Argenta that evening, and drive to the ranch from there. He wondered what Molly would say when she learned of Tony’s return to the Diamond-Bar fold. The thought was uppermost in his mind as he left the hotel. He had Johnny “on his own” now, and Kent felt that he had gained a definite advantage.

Long before he met Molly the old man had determined not to say a word about the incident to her. If he did she would be apt to resent his hiring the Basque. Let her find out for herself. It wouldn’t hurt to have her hear Johnny Dice’s shortcomings retailed by other lips than his.

Molly and the Langwell girls came for Kent at six and carried him off to the Langwell home for supper. Molly seemed in better spirits and old Jackson felt relieved. He tried to inveigle the girls into accompanying them to the Diamond-Bar. They begged off for this time.

Molly guessed the reason in back of the invitation. With the Langwell girls on hand there would have been little or no chance for a resumption of the scenes of this afternoon. It would have only delayed matters. Molly intended to know more about Crosbie Traynor before the subject was dropped.

The ride to Argenta took but little time. The drive to the ranch, however, was a matter of some three hours. The old man outdid himself in trying to keep Molly’s mind far from Johnny Dice and the dead man. He exhausted himself before the ranch was reached, and dreaded the remaining miles. Molly, however, surprised him by not once referring to the subject which obsessed both of them. It was not delicacy on the girl’s part which made her hold her tongue. She had heard more than enough for the present. It was her way to ponder over a matter for a day or two. Questions would be asked and she would be answered, but not tonight.