moment in silent companionship.

"Tell me about Rankin," suggested Scotty at last.

Ben did so. It did not take long, for he scarcely mentioned himself, and
quite omitted that last incident of which Grannis had been witness.

"And--the man who shot him?" Scotty found it a bit difficult to put the
query into words.

"They swung him a few days later. Things move rather fast out there when
they move at all."

"Were 'they' the cowboys?"

"No, the sheriff and the rest. It was all regular--scarcely any
spectators, even, I heard."

"And now about yourself. Shall you be in the city long?"

"I hardly know. I came partly on business--but that won't take me long."
He looked at his host significantly. "I also had another purpose in
coming."

Scotty moved uncomfortably in his seat. "Ben," he said at last, "I'd
like to ask you to stay with us if I could, but--" he paused, looking
cautiously in at the open door--"but Mollie, you know--It would mean the
dickens' own time with her."

Ben showed neither surprise nor resentment. "Thank you," he replied. "I
understand. I couldn't have accepted had you invited me. Let's not
consider it."

Again the seat which usually fitted the Englishman so well grew
uncomfortable. He was conscious that through the curtains of the library
window some one was watching him and the new-comer. He had a mortal
dread of a scene, and one seemed inevitable.

"How's the old ranch?" he asked evasively.

"It's just as you left it. I haven't got the heart somehow to change
anything. We use up a good many horses one way and another during a
year, and when I get squared around I'm going to start a herd there with
one of the boys to look after it. It was Rankin's idea too."

"You expect to keep on ranching, then?"

"Why not?"

"I thought, perhaps, now that you had plenty to do with--You're young,
you know."

Ben looked out across the narrow plat of turf deliberately.

"Am I--young? Really, I'd never thought of it in that way."

The Englishman's feet again mounted the railing in an attempt at
nonchalance.

"Well, usually a man at your age--" He laughed. "If it were an old
fellow like me--"

"Mr. Baker, I thought you said you really wished me to sit down and chat
awhile?"

Scotty colored. "Why, certainly. What makes you think--"

"Let's be natural then."

Scotty stiffened. His feet returned to the floor.

"Blair, you forget--" But somehow the sentence, bravely begun, halted.
Few people in