raise her head. Ben Evans was galloping towards her, and already too close for her to remove all traces of her tears, though she quickly did her best.
His face, which had been alight with a friendly smile, sobered.
"What's the matter? What's happened?"
She bit her lip hard and turned her head from him.
"Tell me, Edie," he demanded solicitously, and laid his hand upon her arm.
The familiar action started her tears afresh.
"Nothing—oh, I don't know!" she sobbed.
"Of course you do. You ain't the girl to cry for nothing."
But she had too much woman's pride to tell him the truth if he was too dense, too little interested, to guess.
"It's the cattle"—she kept her face from him—"we're losing them."
"Disease—dyin' you mean?"
"Rustlers."
"The greasers, you think?"
She shook her head.
They're goin' too fast for that. The
