r her husband, thus unconsciously taking opposite sides in the struggle
that they knew must ensue.

It must not be thought that Juliet had turned against her father since
their final difference. After her first outbreak against his narrow views
and unjust treatment of Larkin, the old love that had been paramount all
her life returned, and with it a kind of pity. She knew that in a man of
her father's age his nature could not be made over immediately, if ever;
the habits of a rough lifetime were too firmly ingrained. But at the same
time there was something gone from the sweet and intimate affection that
had formerly characterized their relations.

Lovers or married folk who declare for the efficacy of a quarrel as a
renewer of love are wrong in the last analysis. Loss of control always
entails loss of respect, and fervent "making up" after such an outbreak
cannot efface the picture of anger-distorted features or remove the acid
of bitter words. Thus it was with Juliet and her love for her father.

As to his safety she was not worried, for she knew that Bud would not
allow any harm to come to him as he was in command of the men who had
effected the taking-off. What Larkin's plans were she did not fully
realize, but she knew this sudden _coup_ had been executed to further his
own ends in the imperative matter of getting his sheep north. And of this
she finally convinced her mother, although that lady wept copiously before
the thing was accomplished.

The evening following the departure of Mike Stelton and his punchers was
made notable by the arrival of a man on horseback, who carried across his
saddle a black box, and in thongs at his side a three-legged standard of
yellow wood. His remaining equipment was a square of black cloth.

Without invitation he turned his dejected animal into the Bar T corral and
made himself at home for the evening. At the supper table he revealed his
identity and explained his purpose.

"I'm Ed Skidmore," he announced, "and I take photographs. This thing I've
got is a camera." He had already mounted the instrument on his tripod.
"I've been going around from ranch to ranch and the pictures have been
selling like hot cakes."

Juliet, listening, noted that his conversation was that of a comparatively
well-educated man and that he had none of the characteristic drawl or
accent of the plainsmen. To her a camera was nothing out of the ordinary,
although she had not seen one since her final retu