the best of luck to you," said Cameron, heartily, as he extended
his hand. "What one man has done another can do, but your job will be no
sinecure. But, come, we're not going to permit you to return to the
hotel for supper, because with cowboys in town the place will in all
probability be uncomfortably noisy although I will say for the boys that
Mrs. Endicott's presence would be a safeguard against any unseemly
talk."

Endicott's objections were met by the Camerons who pointed out that the
road by which Colston must enter Timber City ran right past the door and
in plain view of the porch where they were accustomed to eat the evening
meal.

Alice insisted upon helping Mrs. Cameron, and left to themselves
Endicott skilfully led the minister to talk of the country, its needs
and requirements, its advantages, its shortcomings, and its problems.
Cameron was a minister in every sense of the word, a man who loved his
work and who was beloved of the cattle country, and when, a couple of
hours later, the ladies summoned them to the table, Endicott took his
place with the realization that proprietorship of an outfit like the Y
Bar, carried with it responsibilities and obligations that had nothing
whatever to do with the marketing of beef on the hoof.

CHAPTER IV

Y BAR COLSTON TALKS

"There's Colston, now!" exclaimed Cameron, rising and hailing a rider
who approached leading two saddled horses. The rider drew up, Cameron
descended to the little white gate, and a moment later was helping the
ranchman to tie his horses to the picket fence. As they approached the
porch, Endicott noted the leathery gauntness of face that bespoke years
on the open range, and as their hands met he also noted the hard, firm
grip, and the keen glance of the grey eyes that seemed to be taking his
measure. The man greeted the ladies with grave deference, and seated
himself in the empty chair.

"Well, I got here, Endicott, but it was a considerable chore. Ain't as
young as I was once. Time I was lettin' go, I guess. Seventy years
old--an' young-hearted as any buck on the range--but along towards
night, after a hard day's ride, I find myself beginin' to realize I be'n
somewheres, an' the old bed-roll looks better to me than a carload of
white-faces."

Instinctively, Endicott liked this man--the bluff heartiness of him, and
the alert litheness of motion that belied the evidence of the white
moustache and silvery white hair. "I hope I shall b