s own book to his own chair. But, beginning to
turn the pages, he stopped and looked up wonderingly.

"Funny ol' duck," he mused. "Here I've knowed him all these years an'
I never guessed he read pomes!"

He shook his head, admitted to himself that the "ol' duck" was a keen
ol' cuss, returned to his book, began stripping the paper from the
first stick of gum, and knew no more of what went on about him.

CHAPTER XV

AT THE FALLEN LOG

Since the hill ranch operated by the Temples and the Packard Ranch
Number Ten had over two miles of common border-line, it was unavoidable
that Steve and Terry should meet frequently. Truly unavoidable since
further they were both young, Terry as pretty as the proverbial
picture, Steve the type to stick somehow in such a girl's mind. She
turned up her nose at him; she gave him a fine view of her back; but in
riding her father's range she let her eyes travel curiously across the
line.

For his part Steve, seeing where some of his calves had invaded Temple
property, followed the errant calves himself instead of sending one of
his men. And as he rode he was apt to forget his strayed cattle as he
watched through the trees for a fluttering, gay-hued scarf.

Certainly of girls and women he had known she was the most refreshing;
certainly she was the prettiest after an undeniably saucy style. And
life here of late, with Blenham and Woods gone and unheard from, was a
quiet, uneventful affair.

Terry, for her part, told herself and any one else who cared to listen,
that he was a Packard, hence to be distrusted, avoided, considered as
beneath a white person's notice. His breed were all crooked. Sired
and grandsired by precious scoundrels, he was but what was to be
expected. And yet----

For "yets" and "ifs" and "howevers" had already begun to intrude,
befogging many a consideration hitherto clear as cut glass. He had not
lied about a horse being shot under him; he had been party to Blenham's
departure from the ranch; he had been man enough in Red Creek to whip
Joe Woods; and, single-handed, he had driven a crew of rough-and-ready
timberjacks off his property.

Further, it was undeniable that he had a good-natured grin, that his
eyes though inclined either to be stern or else to laugh at her, were
frank and steady, that he made a figure that fitted well in the eye of
a girl like Terry Temple.

"Oh, the Packards are men," said Terry begrudgingly, "even if they are
pirates