e
too had black hair and a black mustache. Like all the Rutherfords he
was handsome after a fashion, though the debonair recklessness of his
good looks offered a warning of temper.

"'Lo, Boots," he greeted his sister, and fastened his black eyes on her
guest.

Beaudry noticed that he did not take off his hat or lift his leg from
the chair.

"Mr. Street, this is my brother Hal. I don't need to tell you that he
hasn't been very well brought up."

Young Rutherford did not accept the hint. "My friends take me as they
find me, sis. Others can go to Guinea."

Beulah flushed with annoyance. She drew one of the gauntlets from her
hand and with the fingers of it flipped the hat from the head of her
brother. Simultaneously her foot pushed away the chair upon which his
leg rested.

He jumped up, half inclined to be angry. After a moment he thought
better of it, and grinned.

"I'm not the only member of the family shy on manners, Boots," he said.
"What's the matter with you? Showing off before company?"

"I'd have a fine chance with you three young rowdies in the house," she
retorted derisively. "Where's dad?"

As if in answer to her question the door opened to let in a big,
middle-aged rancher with a fine shock of grizzled hair and heavy black
eyebrows. Beulah went through the formula of introduction again, but
without it Beaudry would have known this hawk-nosed man whose gaze
bored into his. The hand he offered to Hal Rutherford was cold and
clammy. A chill shiver passed through him.

The young woman went on swiftly to tell how her guest had rescued her
from the wolf trap and walked home beside her while she rode his horse.

"I'll send for Doc Spindler and have him look at your ankle, honey,"
the father announced at once.

"Oh, it's all right--bruised up a bit--that's all," Beulah objected.

"We'll make sure, Boots. Slap a saddle on and ride for the Doc, Hal."
When the young man had left the room, his father turned again to Roy.
His arm gathered in the girl beside him. "We're sure a heap obliged to
you, Mr. Street. It was right lucky you happened along."

To see the father and daughter together was evidence enough of the
strong affection that bound them. The tone in which he had spoken to
his son had been brusque and crisp, but when he addressed her, his
voice took on a softer inflection, his eyes betrayed the place she held
in his heart.

The man looked what he was--the chief of a clan, the a