ed making for,
and next morning the stallion was discovered miles away, while later
in the day a farm-hand came upon a mass of bloody bones and flesh
pounded to mince meat among the earth at the side of a road."

"I quite believe it," said Phil, "because I have heard before
somewhere that a horse--no matter how vicious it may be--will never
interfere with a man smelling of liquor."

"Well,--I guess the horse had more sense than some of us have," said
Jim.

"Sound horse sense, I suppose," laughed Phil.

"But say!--you and Brenchfield don't seem to love each other exactly.
What is it, Phil?"

"Oh!--we don't pull together, that's all."

"Anybody can see that. Did you ever meet him before coming here?"

"Yes!" answered Phil shortly.

"Well, old chum, it isn't any of my business, but the Mayor's an
oily-tongued rotter and well worth the watching. I'm lying in wait for
him myself. He doesn't love me any more than he seems to love you, so
if I can help you out any time, let me know.

"He's got the nerve of the devil. He is setting up to little
Eileen Pederstone too, the hound. I hope to God a fine woman like she
is doesn't have such putrid luck as to marry such a miserable
son-of-a-gun. But it is generally that way though, and that coyote
nearly always gets what he goes after. He seems to be making money
hand over fist. His stock is the largest and best in the Valley.
They say he owns half a dozen mines up north and more ranch land in
the Okanagan than he can ever use.

"Eileen Pederstone has gone after her dad campaigning, and I heard up
at the Court House this morning that Brenchfield is going off in a day
or so, invited by the Party to join Royce Pederstone and help along
his election with his influence and his glib tongue.

"If Pederstone gets in--as he is sure to do--the next thing we will be
hearing will be the Mayor's engagement with Eileen.

"Honest to goodness!--I think I would plug him full of bullet holes on
a dark night if that happened."

CHAPTER IX

The Doings of Percival

When Hanson returned that afternoon, his round face was beaming. His
big blue eyes stared right into Phil's.

"Say,--by yiminy,--you some kid! You quiet Brenchfield's she-devil!"

"And what about that?"

"What about it! That no good for Sol Hanson. I know all about him.
Somebody tell me. By yiminy! you make damn good blacksmith. Some day
we put up signboard, 'Hanson and Ralston, General Blacksmiths.' We get
all