foreman to a soreness he wasn't slow in showing.

"Jest thirty Shorthorn yearlings," he said without any attempt to
soften the blow. "Jest thirty--prize stock."

The announcement had an unlooked-for effect. Where Nan expected
another furious display Bud remained silent. His eyes were wide as
they stared into the foreman's. But no word came. Then, after a few
moments, he began to laugh and Nan understood. She felt it was either
that, or--her father would break something.

"Well, I go plumb to hell!" he cried at last. And Nan felt relieved at
the sound of his voice.

The next moment Lal Hobhouse was pouring out his story with a redundant
selection from his choicest vocabulary of abusive epithet, which was
impartially divided between the rustlers and the cowhands under his
charge. Nan waited patiently, her eyes studying her father's face.
But whatever his feelings he permitted them no further display, and, at
the conclusion of the story, instead of offering comment, or reverting
to his own discoveries, he turned to his daughter with a smile.

"Food on, Nan?" he inquired, in his easy way. "Guess I'm needin'
food--pretty bad. Maybe we'll feel better after."

Then he turned to the men who stood around.

"Git on down to the bunkhouse an' feed, boys. One o' you grab my plug.
After, we'll get around out with Lal here. I----"

He broke off as Nan darted away down the veranda. The mail man had
just clattered up to the front of the house, and she had gone to meet
him.

Bud passed his horse on to one of the men, and, with heavy strides,
clanking with the rattle of his heavy Mexican spurs, his leather chapps
creaking as he moved, he mounted the veranda and made his way into the
house.

* * * * * *

Nan entered the parlor with her hands full of mail. The meal was laid
ready, and a colored girl was setting the chairs in their places.

"I'll jest get a clean up, Nan," her father said, without a single
trace of his recent display. "Guess I'm full of dust."

He passed through the little room like some overwhelming mammoth. He
seemed altogether too vast for the small home, which had never grown
with his other worldly possessions. Nan watched him go. Then she laid
the mail down on a side table and began to sort it out.

There were a number of letters for Jeff. These she set carefully aside
in a pile by themselves for redirection. There were several addressed
in girlish han