eyes, clashing with those of Stone, grew chill and hard.

"So you're back here again, are you?" he asked, looking pretty black.

Stone's lip smile mocked him. "I don't know how you guessed it, but I sure
am here."

"Didn't I tell you to keep away from the Bar 99--you and your whole cursed
outfit?"

"Seems to me you did mention something of that sort. But how was I to know
whether you meant it unless I came back to see?"

Laura came into the room and ranged herself beside her father. Her hand
rested lightly on his forearm.

"He got caught in one of your bear traps and this young man brought him
here to wait for the doctor," she explained.

"Hmp!"

The Missourian stared without civility at his guest, turned on his heel,
and with his daughter beside him marched out of the room. He could not
decently tell Stone to leave while he was under the care of a doctor, but
he did not intend to make him welcome. London was a blunt grizzled old
fellow who said what he thought even about the notorious Soapy Stone.

"We'll pull our freights right away, Curly," Stone announced as soon as
his host had gone.

The young man went to the stable and saddled Keno. While he was tightening
the cinch a shadow fell across his shoulder. He did not need to look round
to see whose it was.

"I'm so glad you're going to the horse ranch. You will look out for Sam. I
trust you. I don't know why, but I have the greatest confidence in you,"
the owner of the shadow explained sweetly.

Curly smiled blandly over his shoulder at her. "Fine! That's a good
uplifting line of talk, Miss Laura. Now will you please explain why you're
feeding me this particular bunch of taffy? What is it I'm to do for you?"

She blushed and laughed at the same time. Her hand came from behind her
back. In it was a letter.

"But I do mean it, every word of it."

"That's to be my pay for giving Master Sam his billy doo, is it?"

"How did you guess? It is a letter to Sam."

"How did I guess it? Shows I'm sure a wiz, don't it?"

She saw her father coming and handed him the letter quickly.

"Here. Take it." A spark of mischief lit her eye and the dimples came out
on her cheeks. "Good-by, _Curly_."

CHAPTER VII

BAD MEDICINE

The house at the horse ranch was a long, low L-shaped adobe structure. The
first impression Curly received was that of negligence. In places the roof
sagged. A door in the rear hung from one hinge. More than one broken pane
of glass w