ses across the line this summer and he wants to rent some pastures
at different points along the trail. How about it?"

Watts rubbed his beard uncertainly. "Them fences hain't hoss tight. I
be'n studyin' 'bout fixin' 'em."

"Why don't you get at it?"

"Well they's the resevoy, an' the ditches----"

"Never mind the ditches. All that fence needs is a few posts and some
staples."

"My ax hain't fitten to chop with no mo', an' I druv over the spade
an' bruk the handle. I hain't got no luck."

Reaching into his pocket, Bethune withdrew a gold piece which he
tossed to Watts. "Maybe this will change your luck," he smiled. "The
fact is I want that pasture--or, rather, Schultz does."

"Thought yo' said Schmidt."

"Did I? Those kraut names all sound alike to me. But his name is
Schultz. The point is, he'll pay you five dollars a month to hold the
pasture, and five dollars for every day or night he uses it. That ten
spot pays for the first two months. Better buy a new ax and spade and
some staples and get to work. The exercise will do you good, and
Schultz may want to use that pasture in a couple of weeks or so."

"Well, I reckon I kin. Hit's powerful hot fer to work much, but that's
a sight o' money. As I wus sayin' to Mr. Sinclair's darter----"

"Sinclair's daughter! What do you mean? Is Sinclair back?"

Patty noted the sudden flash of the jet black eyes at the mention of
her father's name. It was as though a point of polished steel had
split their velvet softness. Yet there was no hostility in the glance;
rather, it was a gleam of intense interest. The girl's own interest in
the quarter-breed had been casual at most, hardly more than that
accorded by a passing glance until she had chanced to hear him refer
to the man in the Blackfoot country in one breath as Schmidt, and in
the next as Schultz. She wondered at that and so had remained standing
beside Mrs. Watts, screened from the outside by the morning-glory
vines that served as a curtain for the window. The trifling incident
of the changed name was forgotten in the speculation as to why her
father's return to the hill country should be a matter of evident
import to this sagebrush cavalier. So intent had she become that she
hardly noticed the cruel bluntness of Watts's reply.

"He's dead."

"Dead!"

"Yas, he died back East an' his darter's come."

"Does she know he made a strike?" Patty noted the look of eagerness
that accompanied the words.

"I do'no." Wat