hat he was unable to build the fence that would have
saved his crops and so helped to defeat Horton. The fencing will cost
about three hundred dollars. When I sold off that big bunch of steers,
two years ago, I offered to lend him money to fence his claim, but, no
sir, he wouldn't touch a cent--seemed to have a kind of prejudice
agin' borrowing money, even of me. Another thing about Horton is,"
went on our friend, who seemed to have made an exhaustive study of his
subject, "that he must brag about what he's going to do before he does
it. That's how every one knows, in reason, that he is the one who has
made you all this trouble. He hasn't scrupled to say that he's bound
to have this place, by hook or by crook, whatever happens--and so he
looks out for it that things happen. But there is one thing that I
will say for him, and it's kind of curious, too--let him once be
fairly and squarely beaten, so that there's no way but for him to own
up to it, and you needn't ask for a better or more faithful friend
than he is; but he's like--" Mr. Wilson lifted his hat and scratched
his grizzled head, casting about for a simile; his eye fell on Guard.
"Why, he's like a bull-dog, you might say--he'll hang on until beaten,
and then he's yours to command ever after."

Jessie was greatly cast down; she looked at Guard and accepted the
simile mournfully.

"There's no hope of our ever being able to do anything that will make
him admit himself beaten," she said, "so, I suppose, we must resign
ourselves to enduring his enmity as best we can."

"I ain't calculating on his keeping up this racket after you get your
title," Mr. Wilson declared, hopefully; "he's dead set on getting this
land now. He's made his brags that he would have it, but when it's
once passed out of his reach, he'll kind of tame down, I'm thinking.
Now, about your fences," he continued, with a sudden, cheery change of
tone: "they're going up. Don't you worry about the loss of your crop,
but Joe, you just whirl in and go to plowing those fields again for
fall wheat; nothing better for raising money on than fall wheat; and
by the time it's sprouted, we'll have it fenced, snug and tight; we
will, if I have to mortgage my farm to do it! But I shan't have to do
that. I can raise the money for you somehow."

Jessie was sitting on the wagon-tongue. She looked gratefully up into
the ranchman's weather-beaten face.

"I think you're just awful good, Mr. Wilson, but--would it be r