company with some lucky man?"

"No," again denied the boy emphatically.

"What's the matter? She used to be awfully pretty and sweet."

"She is now, but she don't want any man."

"Well, now, David, that isn't quite natural, you know. Why do you
think she doesn't want one?"

"I heard say she was crossed once."

"Crossed, David? And what might that be?" asked Forbes in a delighted
feint of perplexity.

"Disappointed in love, you know."

"Yes; it all comes back now--the gossip of my boyhood days. She was
going with a man when Barnabas' wife died and left two children--one a
baby--and Miss M'ri gave up her lover to do her duty by her brother's
family. So Barnabas never married again?"

"No; Miss M'ri keeps house and brings up Jud and Janey."

"I remember Jud--mean little shaver. Janey must be the baby."

"She's eight now."

"I remember you, David. You were a little toddler of four--all eyes.
Your folks had a place right on the edge of town."

"We left it when I was six years old and came out here," informed
David.

Forbes' groping memory recalled the gossip that had reached him in the
Far West. "Dunne went to prison," he mused, "and the farm was
mortgaged to defray the expenses of the trial." He hastened back to a
safer channel.

"Miss M'ri was foolish to spoil her life and the man's for fancied
duty," he observed.

David bridled.

"Barnabas couldn't go to school when he was a boy because he had to
work so she and the other children could go. She'd ought to have stood
by him."

"I see you have a sense of duty, too. This county was always strong on
duty. I suppose they've got it in for me because I ran away?"

"Mr. Brumble says it was a wise thing for you to do. Uncle Larimy says
you were a brick of a boy. Miss Rhody says she had no worry about her
woodpile getting low when you were here."

"Poor Miss Rhody! Does she still live alone? And Uncle Larimy--is he
uncle to the whole community? What fishing days I had with him! I must
look him up and tell him all my adventures. I have planned a round of
calls for to-night--Miss M'ri, Miss Rhody, Uncle Larimy--"

"Tell me about your adventures," demanded David breathlessly.

He listened to a wondrous tale of western life, and never did narrator
get into so close relation with his auditor as did this young ranchman
with David Dunne.

"I must go home," said the boy reluctantly when Joe had concluded.

"Come down to-morrow, David, and we'll go fishing."