have call
for law an' lawyers in my play? Think I'm a crook, sir? Mean to
insinuate I'm a crook?"

"I mean nothing of the kind. A mortgage is a legal matter, the payment
of interest and principal----"

"Guy Little!" called the old man. "Guy Little! Goin' to stay under
that car all day?"

The mechanician promptly appeared, hands and face greasy and black and
took his place on the running-board.

"All ready, sir," he announced imperturbably.

With half-a-dozen strides his master reached the car; in as many
seconds the powerful engine was throbbing. The screaming horn gave
warning, the quiet herds in the valley heeded, lifted their heads and
stood at attention, ready to scamper this way or that as need arose.
The wheels turned, the car jolted over the inequalities presented by
the field, swerved sharply, turned, gathered speed and whizzed away
toward the valley road.

Three times before they shot back into the mouth of Blue Bird Canon the
mechanician fancied that his employer had spoken; each time listening,
he failed to catch any other sound than that made by the engine and
speeding wheels. Once he said, "Sir?" and got only silence for an
answer.

He shook his head and wondered; it was not Packard's way to mumble to
himself. And again, ready to jump for his life as the big car took a
dangerous turn, his eyes glued to the sheer bank a few inches from the
singing tires, he caught a sound through the blast of the sparton which
surely must have come from the driver's lips.

"What say?" yelled Guy Little.

No answer. He caught a fleeting glimpse of a farmer at the head of his
two plunging horses where the man had hurriedly got them out of the way
and up the flank of the mountain. They raced on. And again, surely
Packard had said something.

"Talkin' to me?" called Little.

Then, for just a wee fraction of a second, Packard drew his eyes from
the road and his look met the mechanician's. The old man's eyes were
shining strangely.

"Damn it, Guy Little," he boomed out boisterously, "can't a man laugh
when he feels that-away?"

And it suddenly dawned upon Guy Little that ever since they had left
Ranch Number Ten the old man had been chuckling delightedly.

CHAPTER VIII

IN RED CREEK TOWN

The little town of Red Creek had an individuality all its own. It
might have prided itself, had it any civic sense whatever, upon its
aloofness. It stood apart from the rest of the world, at a safe
di