e sense."

"Where would he get it?" young Larry asked insolently. For answer his
brother cursed him.

"Cut that out, Blake," Gerald drawled, but his tone was edged.

"Then let that young pup keep a civil tongue in his head," Blake
growled.

"Pup, hey?" said young Larry. "Well, I'll never make a yellow dog,
anyway." The insinuation was obvious. Blake's face blackened with fury,
but wheeling his horse he rode off after the girls. Gerald and Larry
with brief nods to young Mackay, followed.

The latter stood looking after them, his heavy brows drawn in a frown.
Then, with a shrug of his shoulders, he lengthened his stirrups and
swung up on his pony.

CHAPTER II

A DEATH BED

Deciding that it was too late to go back after the deer, Angus headed
for home. The sun was down when he struck into a wagon trail a couple of
miles from the ranch, and he had followed it but a few hundred yards
when he heard the sound of hoofs behind him. Turning in his saddle he
recognized horse and rider which were overhauling him rapidly.

"What's the rush, Dave?" he asked as they drew level.

Whatever the rush had been it seemed to be over. The rider slowed to a
walk. He was a small man, apparently in the forties, wiry and sun-dried.
His name was Rennie, and he was nominally a homesteader, though he did
little more than comply with the statutory requirements. In winter he
trapped and in summer he turned his hand to almost anything. He was a
wizard with horses, he knew the habits of most wild animals thoroughly
and he had seen a great deal of the old West. He and young Mackay were
friends, and he had taught the boy many things from his own store of
experience. As he pulled up, the boy noted that Blaze's bright coat was
dark with sweat and that his head hung wearily.

"You've been combing some speed out of that cayuse," he commented.

"He's been on grass and lathers easy," Rennie returned. "But I was--I
was sorter lookin' for you, kid."

"Why?"

"Well, you see--your daddy he wants you."

"He knew I was hunting. I got a two-year old buck, but it was too late
to pack him in. What does he want me for?"

The question seemed to embarrass Rennie exceedingly. He gulped and went
into a fit of coughing which left him red in the face.

"He wants to talk to you," he replied at last. "He--he wants to tell you
something, I guess. He--he ain't right well, your daddy ain't."

"Not well!" the boy cried in amazement. "Why, what's the ma