fest mostly in the manner of the
son. He looked ashamed, almost sullen. But if he had been under the
influence of liquor at Kremmling, as reported the day before, he had
entirely recovered.

"Come on in," said the rancher.

When they got into the big living-room, and Belllounds had closed the
doors, the son threw down his baggage and faced his father aggressively.

"Do they all know where I've been?" he asked, bitterly. Broken pride and
shame flamed in his face.

"Nobody knows. The secret's been kept." replied Belllounds.

Amaze and relief transformed the young man. "Aw, now, I'm--glad--" he
exclaimed, and he sat down, half covering his face with shaking hands.

"Jack, we'll start over," said Belllounds, earnestly, and his big eyes
shone with a warm and beautiful light. "Right hyar. We'll never speak of
where you've been these three years. Never again!"

Jack gazed up, then, with all the sullenness and shadow gone.

"Father, you were wrong about--doing me good. It's done me harm. But
now, if nobody knows--why, I'll try to forget it."

"Mebbe I blundered," replied Belllounds, pathetically. "Yet, God knows I
meant well. You sure were--But thet's enough palaver.... You'll go to
work as foreman of White Slides. An' if you make a success of it I'll be
only too glad to have you boss the ranch. I'm gettin' along in years,
son. An' the last year has made me poorer. Hyar's a fine range, but I've
less stock this year than last. There's been some rustlin' of cattle,
an a big loss from wolves an' lions an' poison-weed.... What d'you
say, son?"

"I'll run White Slides," replied Jack, with a wave of his hand. "I
hadn't hoped for such a chance. But it's due me. Who's in the outfit
I know?"

"Reckon no one, except Wils Moore."

"Is that cowboy here yet? I don't want him."

"Wal, I'll put him to chasin' varmints with the hounds. An' say, son,
this outfit is bad. You savvy--it's bad. You can't run that bunch. The
only way you can handle them is to get up early an' come back late.
Sayin' little, but sawin' wood. Hard work."

Jack Belllounds did not evince any sign of assimilating the seriousness
of his father's words.

"I'll show them," he said. "They'll find out who's boss. Oh, I'm aching
to get into boots and ride and tear around."

Belllounds stroked his grizzled beard and regarded his son with mingled
pride and doubt. Not at this moment, most assuredly, could he get away
from the wonderful fact that his only son wa