him out of her life. These things
are not put in the papers.

"Come on, Jean." Lite took her by the arm and swung her away from the
curious crowd which she did not see. "You're my girl now, and I'm
going to start right in using my authority. I've got Pard here in the
stable. You go climb into your riding-clothes, and we'll hit it outa
this darned burg where every man and his dog has all gone to eyes and
tongues. They make me sick. Come on."

"Where?" Jean held back a little with vague stubbornness against the
thought of taking up life again without her dad. "This--this is the
jumping-off place, Lite. There's nothing beyond."

Lite gripped her arm a little tighter if anything, and led her across
the street and down the high sidewalk that bridged a swampy tract at
the edge of town beyond the depot.

"We're taking the long way round," he observed "because I'm going to
talk to you like a Dutch uncle for saying things like that. I--had a
talk with your dad last night, Jean. He's turned you over to me to
look after till he gets back. I wish he coulda turned the ranch over,
along with you, but he couldn't. That's been signed over to Carl,
somehow; I didn't go into that with your dad; we didn't have much time.
Seems Carl put up the money to pay Rossman,--and other things,--and
took over the ranch to square it. Anyway, I haven't got anything to
say about the business end of the deal. I've got permission to boss
you, though, and I'm sure going to do it to a fare-you-well." He cast a
sidelong glance down at her. He could not see anything of her face
except the droop of her mouth, a bit of her cheek, and her chin that
promised firmness. Her mouth did not change expression in the slightest
degree until she moved her lips in speech.

"I don't care. What is there to boss me about? The world has stopped."
Her voice was steady, and it was also sullen.

"Right there is where the need of bossing begins. You can't stay in
town any longer. There's nothing here to keep you from going crazy;
and the Allens are altogether too sympathetic; nice folks, and they
mean well,--but you don't want a bunch like that slopping around,
crying all over you and keeping you in mind of things. I'm going to
work for Carl, from now on. You're going out there to the Bar
Nothing--" He felt a stiffening of the muscles under his fingers, and
answered calmly the signal of rebellion.

"Sure, that's the place for you. Your dad and Carl f