h one o' them Injun risings?"

The other shook his head.

"Jest so."

Another man, stout and florid, Jack McCabe, the butcher, joined them.

"Can't make it out. There ain't been any Sun-dance, which is usual 'fore
they get busy. Guess it ain't no rising. Big Wolf's too clever. If it was
spring round-up or fall round-up it 'ud seem more likely. Guess some
feller's been and fired the woods. Which, by the way, is around Jason's
farm. Say, Dan Lawson, you living that way, ain't it right that Jason's
got a couple of hundred beeves in his corrals?"

"Yes," replied Dan of the "diamond P's." "He bought up the 'flying S'
stock. He's holding 'em up for rebrandin'. Say, Nevil," the cowpuncher
went on, turning to the wood-cutter of White River, "you oughter know how
them red devils is doin'. Did you hear or see anything?"

Nevil turned with a slight flush tingeing his cheeks. He didn't like the
other's tone.

"I don't know why I should know or see anything," he said shortly.

"Wal, you're kind o' livin' ad-jacent, as the sayin' is," observed Dan,
with a shadowy smile.

The other men on the verandah had come around, and they smiled more
broadly than the cowpuncher. It was easy to see that they were not
particularly favorable toward Nevil Steyne. It was as Dan had said; he
lived near the Reservation, and, well, these men were frontiersmen who
knew the ways of the country in which they lived.

Nevil saw the smiling faces and checked his anger. He laughed instead.

"Well," he said, "since you set such store by my opinions I confess I had
no reason to suspect any disturbance, and, to illustrate my faith in the
Indians' peaceful condition, I am going home at noon, and to-morrow intend
to cut a load or two of wood on the river."

Dan had no more to say. He could have said something but refrained, and
the rest of the men turned to watch the white smoke in the distance.
Decidedly Steyne had scored a point and should have been content; but he
wasn't.

"I suppose you fellows think a white man can't live near Indians without
'taking the blanket,'" he pursued with a sneer.

There was a brief silence. Then Dan answered him slowly.

"Jest depends on the man, I guess."

There was a nasty tone in the cowpuncher's voice and trouble seemed
imminent, but it was fortunately nipped in the bud by Jack McCabe.

"Hello!" the butcher exclaimed excitedly, "there's a feller pushin' his
plug as tho' them Injuns was on his heels. Say, it's S