DUNCAN'S ranch-house was a large T-shaped building, constructed, like nearly all the ranch-houses of that country, of the tenacious prairie sod. It stood on the bank of a weak, shallow stream, and there were cottonwood trees around it, making a cool and pleasant harbor to reach in the middle of a thirsty day, after a ride that grew more desolate and barren as the traveler proceeded southward from Cottonwood.
Texas and Winch had not made a forced ride of it; therefore it was almost noon when they turned their horses into the spacious corral with the little creek cutting across its corner. With the thrift of his Scottish kind Duncan had fenced off land in a little pocket of the creek bottom back of his house, and planted a garden there. Very green and hopeful it looked to the eyes of the two men, and so strange a sight in that land, undisturbed by the plow, that they stood at the fence to admire it.
Mrs. Duncan came to the door and hailed them, the two Misses Duncan showing blonde heads over her shoulders. So the two men turned from the
