'Sheep Queen' over there," she nodded towards the mountain, "I
hope to leave before it happens."

"Hush, Beth!" Her mother's expostulation was lost upon her for, looking
at Disston, she was a little dismayed by the expression upon his face
when he turned and, leaning his back against the porch post, faced her,
saying with a sternness which was foreign to him:

"It's quite impossible for you to understand or appreciate a woman like
Kate Prentice, and you will oblige me, Beth, by refraining from
criticising her, at least in my presence."

Hugh would as well have slapped her. She scattered the manicure articles
in her lap as she sprang up and stamped a tiny foot at him:

"She is impossible! Unspeakable! And I believe you are in love with
her!"

For an instant Disston looked at her with an expression which was at
once angry and startled, but before he had framed an answer Teeters
appeared in the doorway behind them and said soberly:

"Looks like somethin' serious is startin' over yonder." He nodded toward
the mountains.

"What do you mean?" Disston asked quickly.

"One of Kate's sheep wagons was blowed up a few nights ago, and there's
a story circulatin' that somebody's goin' to shoot up the Outfit."

Disston's face wore a frown of concentration.

"Teeters," in sudden decision, "I'm going up to see her. She may need
us."

"But isn't it dangerous?" Mrs. Rathburn protested.

"Not unless he's mistook for one of the Outfit, then they might try a
chunk of lead on him," Teeters reassured her.

Miss Rathburn, having recovered her poise together with her drawl, was
regarding the high luster on her nails when Disston came up on the porch
before leaving.

"I am sorry I was rude, Beth," he said earnestly.

"Were you?" indifferently. "I hadn't noticed it."

"I did a contemptible thing to that girl once," he continued, "and I
feel that the least I can do to make amends is to refuse to allow her to
be spoken of slightingly in my presence."

"Quite right, Hughie. You are a credit to our southern chivalry." Miss
Rathburn suppressed a yawn with the tips of her pink tapering fingers.

"When I come back," he spoke propitiatingly, "the day after to-morrow,
probably we'll go and see that petrified tree of which Teeters told us."

"A lovely bribe," languidly, "but don't hurry, for mother and I are
leaving to-morrow."

"You mean that?"

"Certainly."

"I won't believe it."

"You always were incredulous, Hughie."

"I