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Updated: July 22, 2025
"It is on the shortest trail to that gulch, and you'll not have time to get your second load farther before dark." The puncher started back. But Isobel, who had come riding up with Genevieve, called out to stop him: "Wait, Kid. It is almost noon. You must take lunch with us." "Can't leave those hawsses standing with the packs, Miss Chuckie, if they're to make another trip today," he replied.
"Do you know," he gave voice to his curiosity, as she directed their course slantingly down the ridge away from Deep Cañon, "I am simply dying to learn, Miss Chuckie " "Perhaps you had better make it 'Miss Knowles," she suggested, with a quiet smile that checked the familiarity of his manner. "Ah, yes pardon me! 'Miss Knowles, of course," he murmured. "But, you know, so unusual a name "
"I you see, I did not happen to," confusedly murmured the girl. "Chuckie Knowles is not your real name," Genevieve gently reproached her. "No, it is the pet name Daddy gave me. My real one is Isobel." "Isobel ?" "Yes. Daddy's sister, in Denver, always calls me that. But here on the ranch " "Isobel ?" repeated Genevieve, with a rising inflection.
It will be best, I suppose, for my wife and Miss Chuckie to remain close at the ranch until you make sure where this trail leads." "No; he's a snake, but the Indian shoes prove he's Western He won't strike at the ladies. Another thing, I'm going to give you Kid for guard." "He may prefer to join the posse." "Of course he'll prefer that. You can count on Kid Gowan when it comes to a man hunt.
He's an engineer himself." "How's that?" growled her father, frowning heavily at Ashton. "You never told me you're an engineer." "I told Miss Chuckie the first day I met her," explained Ashton. "Ever since then I've been so busy trying to be something else " "Shore you have!" jeered Gowan. "But about Mr. Blake, Daddy?" interposed Isobel.
I've never interfered with you, and I'm not going to with him. It's for Chuckie to pick the winner. Like as not it'll be some man in town, for all I know. She has the say. Whether he wears a derby or a sombrero, she's to have her own choice. I don't care if he's a millionaire or a busted millionaire or a bronco buster, provided he's a man, and provided I'm sure he'll treat her right."
But, Dear " Genevieve looked at her husband with a shade of anxiety "even if this project is feasible, do you feel you should carry it through?" "You mean on account of Miss Chuckie and her father," he replied. "I have considered their side of the matter, and even at the first I saw how Listen, Sweetheart. No one knows better than you that I'm an engineer to the very marrow of my bones.
He took the flask from her, drew a rifle cartridge from his belt, and fitted the steel-jacketed bullet into the clean, small hole. "You're right, Miss Chuckie. It shore was a thirty-eight." He turned sharply on Ashton. "Where'd it happen? Who was it?" "Over on that dry stream," answered Ashton. "Unfortunately the fellow was too far away for me to be able to describe him."
Blake awoke from her health-giving sleep and her husband closed his fieldbook. The girl promptly dashed her suitor back to earth by dropping him for the engineer. "Mr. Blake! You can't have figured it out already?" she exclaimed. "What do you find?" "Only an 'if, Miss Chuckie," he answered. "If water can be stored or brought by ditch to this elevation, practically all Dry Mesa can be irrigated.
"You you tenderfoot!" she flung at him. "Are you locoed? Hadn't you any more sense than to do that? Why, if Daddy hadn't told Mr. Gowan to wait " "You shore would have got yours, you rustler!" snapped the puncher. "It was you, though, Miss Chuckie your being here." "But he's not a rustler, Kid," protested the girl. "Where are your eyes? Look at his riding togs.
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