ere down there, weren't you the guest of
some willing lads who were arranging a little party for you?"

"Mr. Weaver," reproached Phyllis, flushing.

But the reference did not embarrass the nester in the least. He laughed
hardily, meeting his rival eye to eye. "The boys did have notions, but
I expect maybe they have got over them."

"Nothing like being hopeful. Now I'd back my show against yours every
day in the week."

The girl handed his revolver back to Weaver, after first asking a
question of the homesteader with her eyes.

"Oh, I get my hardware back, do I?" Buck grinned.

Keller brought his horse round from back of Flat Rock, where it had been
picketed. They started at once, cutting across the plain to a flat
butte, which thrust itself out from the hills into the valley. Two hours
of steady travel brought them to the butte, behind which lay Seven Mile
ranch.

At the first glimpse of the roofs shining in the golden sunlight Phyllis
gave a cry of delight.

"Home again. I wonder whether Father's here."

"I wonder," echoed Weaver grimly.

"That little fellow riding into the corral is one of my scholars," she
told them.

"One of the fourteen that loves you, Miss Going-On-Eighteen. My,
there'll be joy in Israel over the lost that is found. I reckon by
to-morrow you'll be teaching the young idea how to shoot." He glanced
down at his bandaged arm with a malicious grin.

Phyllis looked at him without speaking. It was Keller who made
application of the remark.

"There are others here beside her pupils. Some of them are right quick
and straight on the shoot, Mr. Weaver. Now you've seen Miss Sanderson
home, there's still time to make your getaway without trouble. How about
hitting the trail while travelling is good, seh?"

"What's the matter with you taking your own advice, Keller?"

"I don't figure the need is pressing in my case. Different with you."

"I told you I would back my chances against yours. Well, I'm standing
pat on that."

"The road will be open to me to-morrow. I wonder will it be open to you
then."

"My friend, who elected you guardeen to Buck Weaver?" drawled the big
man carelessly.

"I wish you would go," Phyllis pleaded, plainly troubled over his
obstinacy.

"Me, I always hated to disoblige a lady," Buck admitted.

"Then go," she cried eagerly.

"But I hate still more to go back on my word. So I'll stay."

There was nothing more to be said. They rode forward to the ranch.
'Ras