Jean of the Lazy A

away from the Bar Nothing ranch, down the narrow valley known locally as the Flat, and on to the hi

e of having her solitude unspoiled by anything human. Solitude was what she wanted. Solitude was what she had counted upon havin

stinguish their features, but by the horses they rode, by the swing of their bodies in the saddles, by all those little, indefinable marks by which we r

he saw one rider leave the cattle and gallop out into the open, stand there looking toward the mouth of the coulee, and wave his hand in a signal for the others to advance. This looked queer to Jean, accustomed all her life to seeing men go

three got off his horse and started a little fire of dry sticks under a convenient ledge. Another untied the ro

hat. She was not sure as to the ownership of the calf, but down here was where the Bar Nothing cattle, and what few were left of the Lazy A, ranged while the feed was good in the

Pard down a steep bank that was treacherous with loose shale. The coulee was more or less open, but it had convenient twists

nd she very much desired to ride on them unawares and catch them at that branding, so that there would be n

nother one,-and did not see her until she was close upon them. When they did see her, she had them covered with her 38-calibe

all the look of a person who knew exactly what she meant, and who meant business. She eyed them curiously, noting the fact that they were strangers, and cowboys,-tho

urn-your-backs, I said. Now, drop those guns on the ground. Walk straight ahe

an uneasy trio, with their faces toward the wall, except when they ventured a glance sidewise or back at her over one shoulder. She glanced at the cattle huddled in the narr

ew she ought to have those guns, at any rate, so she dismounted, still keeping the three in line with her own weapon, and went to where the revolvers lay on the ground. With her

" she informed them calmly, "so you had better stand still till I tell you to move." She

ut venturing to turn his head, "come out of there

was startled, but she did not lower her gun from its steady aiming at the three of them. It was just some trick, very likely, meant to throw her off her gu

n and explain, if he can," she announced sharply, her

undered and made herself ridiculous. It never occurred to her that she was in any particular danger; men did not shoot down women in that country, unless they were drunk or crazy, and the man called Burns had sounded extremely sane

ndit party. We're just movie people, and we're making pictures. That's all." He stopped, but Jean did not move or make any

of resentment. "You've already done it twice too often. Come arou

voice. "My, my, it certainly is a treat to see a real

and his gray tweed suit and pigskin puttees, and the big cameo ring on his manicured little finger, and his fresh-shaven face as round as the sun above his head and almost as cheerful. Perfectly

gainst his generous equator, and bowed so low as to set him puff

the purpose of making Western pictures, and this little bit of unlawful branding of stock which you were flattering enough to mistake for the real thing, is merely a scene

ooked at the gun she had picked up from the ground,-being loaded with blank cartridges was what had made it look so queer!-and at Robert Grant Burns of

le around like this?" she asked abruptly

consider it necessary." Plainly, the chu

t the disposal of any chance stranger, just because we do not keep it under lock and key. You are making r

glad to make some arrangement wit

using his kitchen to make pictures without permission? Has it been your custom to lead

Burns did not sound so chuckly now; but that may have been because the three picture-rustlers

e ground and turned to her horse. "It does seem hard to impress it upon city people that we savages do have a few rights in this country. We should have policemen stationed on every hilltop, I

t Grant Burns stood with his hands at his hips and watched her with the critical eye of the expert who sees in every gesture a picture, effective or ineffective, good, bad

yes. "I don't want to seem inhospitable or unaccommodating, Mr. Burns," she told him, "but I fear

ugh bank of the little gulley. Rather, he made no reply to Jean, but he waved his three rustlers back, retreating himself to where the bank stopped them. And he turned toward the bushes that had at first hidden him from Jean, waved

loop of it toward the cattle and drive them back across the gulley and up the coulee toward home. Cattle are stubborn things at best, and this little bunch seemed determined to seek the higher slopes

rushes now and then to head off an animal that tried to bolt past her up the hill. She would

t stuff like that in ten years. I wish Gay could handle herself like that in the saddle, but there ain't a leading woman in the business to-day that could put that over the way she's doing it. By George! Say, Gil, you get on your horse and ride af