ized the bridle of her father's horse in time to prevent
a runaway. She was not aware that the horse's attempt to run away had
been inspired by Racey surreptitiously and severely kicking it on
the fetlock. This he had done that Miss Dale's thoughts might be
temporarily diverted from her father. Anything to keep her from
shooing him away as she so plainly wished to do.

Racey began to assist the now-crumpling Mr. Dale toward the house.
"What's this about Luke Tweezy?" prodded Racey. "Did you see him
to-day?"

"Shore I seen him to-day," burbled the drunken one. "He left me at
McFluke's after buyin' me the bottle and asked me to stay there till
he got back. But I got tired waitin'. So I come along. I--hic--come
along."

Limply the man's whole weight sagged down against Racey's supporting
arm, and he began to snore.

"Shucks," muttered Racey, then stooping he picked up the limp body in
his arms and carried it to the house.

"He's asleep," he called to Miss Dale. "Where'll I put him?"

"I'll show you," she said, with a break in her voice.

She hastily tied the now-quiet pony to a young cottonwood growing at
the corner of the house and preceded Racey into the kitchen.

"Here," she said, her eyes meeting his a fleeting instant as she threw
open a door giving into an inner room. "On the bed."

She turned back the counterpane and Racey laid her snoring parent on
the blanket. Expertly he pulled off the man's boots and stood them
side by side against the wall.

"Had to take 'em off now, or his feet would swell so after you'd never
get 'em off," he said in justification of his conduct.

She held the door open for him to leave the room. She did not look at
him. Nor did she speak.

"I'm going now," he said, standing in the middle of the kitchen. "But
I wish you wouldn't shut that door just yet."

"I--Oh, can't you see you're not wanted here?" Her voice was shaking.
The door was open but a crack. He could not see her.

"I know," he said, gently. "But you don't understand how serious this
business is. I had good reason for believing that somebody is trying
to steal yore ranch. From several things yore dad said I'm shorer than
ever. If I could only talk to you a li'l while."

At this she came forth. Her eyes were downcast. Her cheeks were red
with shamed blood. She leaned against the table. One closed fist
rested on the top of the table. The knuckles showed white. She was
trembling a little.

"Where and what is McFl