followed him dutifully to the corrals and for half an hour watched
him hurl thirty feet of rope at the horned skull of a steer nailed to
the top of a post. When the noose settled over this mark his boyish
delight was supreme. When it flew wide, which was oftener, his look was
one of invincible determination.

As his sister left him he was explaining to Red Phinney, who had
sauntered up to be a help in the practice, that the range of Bar-B had a
lucky lie--no "greaser" could come along and "sleep" him.

She went back to her chair and book, shaping certain questions she would
put to this brother. But it was not until after the evening meal that
she could again talk with him, for the ardent novice found occupation
about the stable and corrals the rest of the afternoon, and even sat for
a time with the men in the evening, listening avidly to their small talk
of the range, watchful to share in it. When he dared ask a question
knowingly, or venture a swift comment couched in the vernacular, he
thrilled with a joy not less poignant because it must be dissembled.

But conscience pricked him at length to leave those fascinating
adventurers in the bunkhouse and to condescend for an interval to mere
brotherhood. He found his sister alone in the "front" room, ensconced on
the bearskin rug before a snapping and fragrant fire of cedar wood.

He drew up the wooden rocker and remarked that the fire smelled like a
thousand burning leadpencils. He would have gone on to talk of his great
experience, but the woman wisely forestalled him.

"Clarence," she began directly, "I've been thinking over that old affair
of Randall Teevan and his wife, Kitty Lowndes, you know. Do you happen
to recall the name of the man--the man Kitty went away with?"

"Lord, no! That was before I'd learned to remember anything. If you want
to rake that affair up, ask Randy Teevan himself. I'll wager he hasn't
forgotten the chap's name. But why desecrate the grave of so antique a
scandal? Ask me about something later. I remember he had a cook once,
when I was six----"

"Because--because I was thinking, just thinking. Are you certain you
remember nothing about it, not even the man's name, nor what sort of man
he was, nor what he did, nor anything?"

"I only know what you must know. Randall Teevan's wife decided that the
Bishop had made two into the wrong one. I doubt if I ever heard the
chap's name. I seem to remember that they took Alden with them--he was a
b