s chair
resting upon its rear legs and its back against the shady west wall of
the cabin.

"Mo'nin'," he greeted. "Hit's right hot; I be'n studyin' 'bout fixin'
them thar arrigation ditches."

Patty smiled brightly. "All they need is cleaning out, isn't it?"

"Yas, mom. Thet an' riggin' up them flumes. But it's a right smart o'
work, an' then the resevoy's busted, too. I be'n aimin' to fix 'em
when I git time. They hain't had no water in 'em fer three year. Yo'
see, two year ago hit looked like rain mos' every day. Hit didn't rain
none to speak, but hit kep' a body hatin' to start workin' fer fear it
would. An' las' year hit never looked like rain none, so hit wasn't no
use fixin' 'em. An' this year I don't know jest what to do, hit might,
an' then agin hit mightn't. Drat thet sun! Here hit is dinner time.
Seems like hit never lets a body set in one place long 'nough to study
out _whut_ he'd ort to do." Watts rose slowly to his feet, and
picking up his chair, walked deliberately around to the east side of
the house, where he planted it with the precision born of long
practice in the exact spot that the shadow would be longest at the
conclusion of the midday meal.

Patty entered the cabin and a few minutes later the sound of voices
reached her ears. Ma Watts hurried to the window.

"Well, if hit ain't Mr. Bethune an' Lord Clendenning! Ef you see one
you know the other hain't fer off. Hain't he good lookin' though--Mr.
Bethune? Lord hain't so much fer looks, but he's some high up nobility
like over to England where he come from, only over yere they call 'em
remittance men, an' they don't do nothin' much but ride around an'
drink whisky, an' they git paid for hit, too. Folks says how Mr.
Bethune's gran'ma wus a squaw, but I don't believe 'em. Anyways, I
allus like him. He's got manners, an' hit don't stan' to reason no
breed would have manners."

Patty could distinctly see the two riders as they lounged in their
saddles. The larger, whose bulging blue eyes and drooping blond
mustache gave him a peculiar walrus-like expression, she swept at a
glance. The other was talking to Watts and the girl noted the slender
figure with its almost feminine delicacy of mold, and the finely
chiseled features dominated by eyes black as jet--eyes that glowed
with a velvety softness as he spoke.

"We have been looking over your upper pasture," he said. "A fellow
named Schmidt over in the Blackfoot country will be delivering some
hor