ociate marriage with Will. Well,--it
was no good seeking trouble.

He pushed his thoughts aside and stood up. But the cloud upon his dark
face was not so easily got rid of. How could it be? for Eve Marsham
meant the whole world to him.

He moved toward the door, and as he looked out at the sunlit yards he
started. A horseman had just come into view round the corner of one of
the barns. But though his smile was lacking when the man came up and
drew rein at his door, there was no mistaking the kindly cordiality of
his greeting as he held out his hand.

"Why, Will," he cried, "I'm real glad you've come along."

CHAPTER II

A SHOOTING MATCH

In silence the two men sat smoking. Will Henderson, half sitting, half
lying on the stretcher-bed, gazed out through the doorway at the
distant mountain peaks. His hands were clasped behind his head, and a
sullen, preoccupied look was in his eyes. Jim Thorpe was sitting,
frog-fashion, on an upturned soap-box, watching him. His eyes were a
shade anxious, but full of good feeling.

Jim was nine years his cousin's senior, and Will was twenty-four. They
were really almost foster-brothers, for from the younger man's
earliest days he had lived with Jim, in the care of the latter's
widowed mother. He was an orphan, both his parents having died before
he was two years old, and so it was that he had been adopted by Jim's
mother, the child's only living relative. For years Jim had lavished
on him an elder brother's affection and care. And when his own mother
died, and he was left to his own resources, it still made no
difference. Will must share in everything. Will's education must be
completed adequately, for that was Jim's nature. His duty and
inclination lay straight ahead of him, and he carried both out to the
end. Perhaps he did more. Perhaps he overindulged and spoiled the
youngster of whom he was so fond. Anyway, as in many similar cases,
Will accepted all as his right, and gave very little in return. He was
selfish, passionate, and his temper was not always a nice one.

In appearance there was a striking resemblance between these two. Not
in face, but in figure, in coloring, in general style. A back view of
them was identical. In face they differed enormously. They were both
extremely handsome, but of utterly different types. Jim was
classically regular of feature, while Will possessed all the
irregularity and brightness of his Hibernian ancestry. Both were dark;
dark h