ible distances to break the lonely monotony of their lives. The place was no better and no worse than scores of its kind that have flourished and passed away. A small tributary of the river ran down behind it, the highroad before its door, and there Cattle Kate Medford kept the hotel, her father the saloon that was an important part of it.
Barrett and Dan arrived in Bonita long after nightfall, when the limited round of its entertainment was well under way. Several horses were ranged along the hitching rack before the hotel, many saddles lay on the porch to show that guests had come to stay the night out, and other nights out, until their money was done.
In spite of Dan's enlargement upon the attractions of Cattle Kate, Barrett was not thinking of her as he swung to the ground before her door. He was wondering, with a heaviness in his heart and gloom depressing him, whether Nearing had caught Dale Findlay off his guard that day, and balanced his shameful account.
Cattle Kate kept a small general store in the reception room, or office, of the hotel. There one might buy candy, kerchiefs for the neck; ammunition, clothing, peanuts, spurs; all the gauds and necessities in demand among the buckos of the range. In this little store, with the hotel counter on one side, chairs for loungers all around, Cattle Kate met Dan Gustin and his friend.
Cattle Kate, as Barrett had been given to understand by Dan as they journeyed to meet her, had gained her name and fame as a range rider in the days when her father was in the cattle business. His business, it
