Part 4 (2/2)

When the mistress of Last's was sad, so were her people.

When the last big corral gate had swung to and the boys turned in to unsaddle, she touched El Rey with a toe and went over among them.

”Line up the horses, boys,” she said, ”I want to see them all together once more. Somethin' came back in me today--somethin' I been missing for a long time. I'll be myself again.”

Billy turned Redbuck to face her, dropped his rein. Curly rode up on Drumfire. These two were red roans, dead matches. Bent brought Golden and stood him alongside. From far at the back of the corral they called Conford and Jack, who came wondering, the former on Sweetheart, true sister of El Rey, almost as big, almost as fast, almost as beautiful.

Silver-blue roan, silver-pointed, slim, graceful, springy, she had not a single dark spot on her except the sharp black bars of the finger marks outside her knees.

”You darlin'!” said Tharon as she wheeled in line.

Then came Jack on Westwind, and he was another buckskin, paler than Golden, most marvelously pointed in pure chestnut brown. His finger marks were brown instead of black--the only horse at the Holding so distinguished, for no matter of what shade or colour, in all the others these peculiar marks were jet black. Five splendid creatures they stood and pounded the ringing earth, tossed their heads and waited, though they had all been far that day and it was feeding time.

Out in the horse corrals there were many more of their breed, slim, wiry horses, toughened and hardened by long hours and daily work, but these were the flower of Last's, the prized favourites.

For a long time Tharon sat and watched them, noting their perfect condition, their glistening skins, their s.h.i.+ning hoofs, many of which were striped, another characteristic.

”I don't believe,” she said at last, ”that there's a bunch of horses in Lost Valley to come nigh 'em. Ironwoods or anything else--I'd back th' Finger Marks.”

”So would we,” said Conford quietly, ”though we've seen th' Ironwoods run--a little.”

”That's th' word, Burt,” said Curly, ”a little. Who of us has ever seen Courtrey let Bolt run like he wanted to? Not a darned one. I've seen that big bay devil pull till th' blood dripped from his mouth.”

”Sure,” put in Masters, ”I've seen that, too--but I was lyin' up on th' Cup Rim oncet, watchin' a couple mavericks fer funny work, an'

Courtrey an' Wylackie Bob come along down that way on Bolt an'

Arrow--an' they wasn't a-holdin' them then. Lord, Lord, how they was goin'! Two long red streaks as level as your hand, an' I swear my heart came up in my throat to see 'em, an' I almost hollered. It was pretty work--pretty work, an' no mistake.”

Tharon looked over at him.

”Fast as El Rey, Jack?”

”Who could tell?” said the man. ”I know it was some speed, an' that is all.”

The girl struck a hand on the king's shoulder so pa.s.sionately that he jumped and snorted.

”Some day,” she said tensely, ”El Rey will run th' Ironwoods off their feet--an' I'll run th' heart out of their master, d.a.m.n him! Put th'

horses out. It's supper time.”

She threw her right limb over the stallion's neck swiftly and with lithe grace, and slid abruptly to the ground.

As she did so there came the sound of hoofs on the hard earth at the corner of the house, and a stranger came sharply into sight.

He drew up and nodded. Conford, just turning away, turned quickly back and came forward.

”Howdy,” he said.

<script>