the fields rapidly returned to the wild. Inez, fifteen at the time of her parents' death, was unwilling to lead the life of a ranch woman and for ten years the ranch had been going to pieces.
When Douglas rode up to the outer corral in the dusk of the June evening, he was struck anew by the disorder of the place. Cattle tramped freely about the house. An old steer was poking his head in at the kitchen window. Chickens roosted on a saddle, which was flung in the stable muck. Tin cans, old wagon wheels, the ruin of a sheep wagon, were heaped in confusion at one end of the cabin. Three or four dogs barked as Doug rode up on old Mike. He called Prince in and looked inquiringly at two other horses tied to the dilapidated corral fence. They were Beauty, his father's horse, and Yankee, Peter's roan.
As Doug sat hesitating, John and Peter came out of the kitchen laughing. They swung, spurs clanking, up to the fence.
"What the devil are you doing here, Doug?" asked Peter Knight.
"Hasn't he got a right to call on the Harlot of the Canyon?" demanded John, with a chuckle. "Hustle up, Peter! The crowd'll be there for the game before you are."
"They can't get in till I unlock," replied Peter. "Here, John, take the key and ride on. I want to talk to Doug."
John caught the key and trotted off. Sister snarled at Prince, who wagged his tail apologetically.
"Sister's a shrew, all right," grinned Douglas.
"She sure can run coyotes, though," said Peter.
"She and Grandma Brown run this valley," added Douglas.
Peter laughed. "I'm strong for the ladies! Did you
