indexed a general
thought.

Lablache, if it were he, would not receive the cordial welcome which had
been meted out to the others. Norton broke the silence.

"Dang it! That's what I ses, dang it! You'll pardon me, ladies, but my
feelings get the better of me at times. I don't like him. Lablache--I
hates him," and he strode out of the room, his old face aflame with
annoyance, to discharge the hospitable duties of the prairie.

As the door closed behind him Dr. Abbot laughed constrainedly.

"Lablache doesn't seem popular--here."

No one answered his remark. Then "Poker" John looked over at the other
men.

"We must go and help to put his horses away."

There was no suggestion in his words, merely a statement of plain facts.
"Lord" Bill nodded and the three men rose and went to the door.

As they disappeared Jacky turned to Mrs. Norton and Aunt Margaret.

"If that's Lablache--I'm off to bed."

Her tone was one of uncompromising decision. Mrs. Abbot was less
assured.

"Do you think it polite--wise?"

"Come along, aunt. Never mind about politeness or wisdom. What do you
say, Mrs. Norton?"

"As you like, Miss Jacky. I must stay up, or--"

"Yes--the men can entertain him."

Just then Lablache's voice was heard outside. It was a peculiar,
guttural, gasping voice. Aunt Margaret looked doubtfully from Jacky to
Mrs. Norton. The latter nodded smilingly. Then following Jacky's lead
she passed up the staircase which led from the kitchen to the rooms
above. A moment later the door opened and Lablache and the other men
entered.

"They've gone to bed," said Mrs. Norton, in answer to "Poker" John's
look of inquiry.

"Tired, no doubt," put in Lablache, drily.

"And not without reason, I guess," retorted "Poker" John, sharply. He
had not failed to note the other's tone.

Lablache laughed quietly, but his keen, restless eyes shot an unpleasant
glance at the speaker from beneath their heavy lids.

He was a burly man. In bulk he was of much the same proportions as old
John Allandale. But while John was big with the weight of muscle and
frame, Lablache was flabby with fat. In face he was the antithesis of
the other. Whilst "Poker" John was the picture of florid tanning--While
his face, although perhaps a trifle weak in its lower formation, was
bold, honest, and redounding with kindly nature, Lablache's was
bilious-looking and heavy with obesity. Whatever character was there, it
was lost in the heavy folds of flesh wit