ad and the turn of
the jaw, but there it ended; and Ted surmised that the major must be at
least fifteen or twenty years older than the stranger.

During the rest of the day there was much mystery about the house that
always precedes Christmas.

Stella was particularly busy, and flew here and there, whispering with
Bud, who seemed to be in some secret with her.

Behind the big ranch living room was a bedroom which had been used for
casual guests.

Stella had possession of it, and had taken the bed down and banished it
until after the holidays.

Within this room certain mysterious things were going on, and whenever
Stella or Bud left it, the door was always locked behind them.

Not all the teasing of Ben and Kit, nor their efforts to get past the
door, were successful in finding out what was going on.

Along toward evening, Bud, who had not met Farnsworth, or Dickson, as he
was known to Bubbly Well, came across that young man pacing up and down
the veranda alone.

When Bud saw him he stopped as if shot, took a long look, and then
passed on.

But he set out to find Ted, which he did at last at the corral.

"See here, Ted," said the golden-haired cow-puncher, "whar did yer pick
up ther maverick what's up at ther house? I hear he come with yer."

"I met him on the road, and he wanted to know if the major would put him
up for the night, and I told him I thought he would be welcome,"
answered Ted.

"Of course he'd be welcome. Ther major would welcome a yaller dog with
ther mange, out in this yere lonely place. But say, boy, does yer know
what yer brought?"

"Why? I don't understand you exactly, I'm afraid."

"Yes, yer do. Who is that feller? He's not Dickson. Who is he?"

"Search me."

"That's what I'm tryin' ter do, an' if yer don't give up peaceful, I'm
goin' through yer, minute."

"Do you know who he is?"

"I've got my suspicions. I see a feller up to Phoenix what's ther dead
ringer fer him, an' his name wasn't Dickson then."

"What was it?"

"It was Fancy Farnsworth."

"I guess you're on, Bud. But Mr. Farnsworth asked me to keep it dark,
and, as it is Christmas, I consented to do so. Remember, this is the
time for brotherly love and peace toward all men. It wasn't much to do,
and I invented the name of Dickson for him myself. What's the matter?"

"Oh, nothin', if yer like ter bring cattle like that ter our Chrismus
festivities. Fer me, I wouldn't."

"I guess he's not as bad as that."

"He'