st at present strangers were not welcome in the park. Rutherford
himself was courteous on account of the service he had done Beulah, but
the boys were frankly suspicious. Detectives of the express company
had been poking about the hills. Was this young fellow who called
himself Street a spy sent in by the Western? While Beaudry ate supper
with the family, he felt himself under the close observation of four
pairs of watchful eyes.

Afterward a young man rode into the ranch and another pair of eyes was
added to those that took stock of the guest. Brad Charlton said he had
come to see Ned Rutherford about a gun, but Ned's sister was the real
reason for his call. This young man was something of a dandy. He wore
a Chihuahua hat and the picturesque trappings with which the Southwest
sometimes adorns itself. The fine workmanship of the saddle, bridle,
and stirrups was noticeable. His silk handkerchief, shirt, and boots
were of the best. There was in his movements an easy and graceful
deliberation, but back of his slowness was a chill, wary strength.

Roy discovered shortly that Charlton was a local Admirable Crichton.
He was known as a crack rider, a good roper, and a dead shot.
Moreover, he had the reputation of being ready to fight at the drop of
the hat. To the Rutherford boys he was a hero. Whether he was one
also to Beulah her guest had not yet learned, but it took no wiseacre
to guess that he wanted to be.

As soon as the eyes of Charlton and Beaudry met there was born between
them an antagonism. Jealousy sharpened the suspicions of the young
rancher. He was the sort of man that cannot brook rivalry. That the
newcomer had been of assistance to Miss Rutherford was enough in itself
to stir his doubts.

He set himself to verify them.

Chapter VII

Jess Tighe Spins a Web

"Then you left Denver, did you?" asked Charlton suavely.

Roy laughed. "Yes, then I left Denver and went to college and shouted,
'Rah, rah, rah, Cornell.' In time I became a man and put away childish
things. Can I sell you a windmill, Mr. Charlton, warranted to raise
more water with less air pressure than any other in the market?"

"Been selling windmills long?" the rancher asked casually.

It was his ninth question in fifteen minutes. Beaudry knew that he was
being cross-examined and his study of law had taught him that he had
better stick to the truth so far as possible. He turned to Miss
Rutherford.

"Your friend i