air, dark eyes, dark eyebrows. In fact, so alike were they in
general appearance that, in their New York days, they had been known
by their intimates as the "twins."

Just now there was something troubling. And that something seemed to
be worrying Will Henderson even more than his cousin. At least, to
judge by outward appearances. He showed it in his expression, which
was somewhat savage. He showed it in his nervous, impatient movements,
in the manner in which he smoked. Jim had seen it at once, and
understood. And he, too, was troubled.

They had been silent some time, and eventually it was Jim who spoke.

"Come on, lad. Let's have it out," he said, decidedly.

His voice was full and strong, and kindly.

The other stirred, but did not reply.

"This is your busy time, Will," Jim went on. "You didn't come away
from those hills yonder to pass the time of day with me. You came
because something wouldn't let you rest. I know you, boy; I know you.
Something's troubling that mind of yours in a way that makes it hard
for you to speak, even now you're here. Shall I try and begin it for
you?"

There was infinite kindness in the man's tone. There was a smile in
his eyes that might well have drawn a responsive smile from even an
angry child.

Will removed his pipe, but the responsive smile was not forthcoming.

"I'll open out, Jim," he said coldly.

The other waited. The smoke of their pipes rolled up on the
still, warm air of the room, upsetting the calculations of a few
mischievously busy mosquitoes. The sun shone in through the doorway.
The ranch was quiet now. All the "hands" had departed to their
work, and only the occasional lowing of a solitary milch cow in one
of the corrals, and the trampling feet of the horses waiting to be
"broken," and the "yeps" of a few mouching dogs, afforded any sign
of life outside in the ranch yards.

Jim began to grow restive.

"Well, boy: I've some 'breaking' to do. Maybe you'll come along. You
can talk as we go."

He half rose, but Will sat up in a moment.

"Not yet, Jim," he said, almost roughly. Then his tone changed in a
way through which his mercurial disposition spoke. "Look here," he
went on, "whatever happens in the future, I'd like you to understand
that all you've done for me in the past counts for something."

"Then it's real serious, lad?" Jim smiled back at him. But he failed
to catch his eye. Then he, too, changed his manner, and there was a
sudden coolness in