. "Eastern jasper! One of the know-all-about-it brand,
huh, Bud? I'll bet he combs his hair in the middle and smokes
cigareets out'n a box! The putty-headed loons can't even roll their
own smokes."

"Don't believe," hazarded Lee indifferently, "from the looks of our
visitor that--that the owner smokes anything!"

"Listen to that!" grunted Ward Hannon.

"Softy, huh?"

"Well," Bud admitted slowly, "looks sort of like a girl, you know!"

"Wouldn't that choke you?" demanded Carson, the cow foreman, a thin,
awkward little man, gray in the service of "real men." "Taking orders
off'n a fool Easterner's bad enough. But old man or young, Bud?"

"Just a kid," was Lee's further dampening news. And as he nonchalantly
buttered his hotcakes he added carelessly: "Something of a scrapper,
though. Just put two thirty-two calibers into Trevors."

They stared at him incredulously. Then Carson's dry cackle led the
laughter.

"You're the biggest liar, Bud Lee," said the old man good-naturedly, "I
ever focussed my two eyes on. I'll lay an even bet there ain't nobody
showed a-tall up this morning."

"You, Tommy," said Lee to the boy at his side, "shovel your grub down
lively and go hitch Molly and old Pie-face to the buckboard. That's
orders from headquarters," he grinned. "Trevors is to be hauled away
first thing."

Tommy looked curiously at his superior. "On the level, Bud?" he asked
doubtingly.

"On the level, laddie," was the quiet response.

And young Burkitt, wondering, but doubting no longer, hastened with his
breakfast.

The others, looking at Lee's sober face questioningly, fired a
broadside of inquiries at him. But they got no further information.

"I've told you boys all the news," he announced positively. "Lordy!
Isn't that an earful for this time of day? The real boss is on the
job: Trevors is winged; you are to stick around for orders from
headquarters. If you want to know any more'n that, why--just go up to
the house and ask your blamed questions."

Out of the tail of his eye he saw the swift approach of Bayne Trevors.
The general manager's face was black with rage and through that dark
wrath showed a dull red flush of shame. He walked with his two arms
lax at his sides.

"Give me a cup of coffee, Ben," he commanded curtly, slumping into a
chair. "Hurry!"

Benny, looking at him curiously, brought a steaming cup and offered it.
Trevors moved to lift a hand; then sank back a little farthe