e was tall, thin, and angular.

Bud ran to meet him.

"We've comp'ny," he cried, indicating Jeff. Sillett quickened his
step.

"Company?"

Sillett met Jeff's glance with a simple bow, and the inevitable
remark, "Hurt yourself?"

Jeff explained. While describing his misadventure he decided that Bud
could not be a party to the father's crime. Sillett asked for
permission to examine the wounded leg Presently he asked Jeff to stand
up.

"Oh, Dad!" protested Bud.

Jeff obeyed, glad to discover that he could stand upon the injured
foot.

"Same thing happened to me once," Sillett remarked. "The tight boot
caused more than half the trouble. Sit down, Mr.----?"

"Wells. Jefferson Wells."

"Thank you. My name is--of no service to you. And this is my daughter
--Sarah. Run away, Sadie."

Jeff, watching the daughter, thought her confusion the prettiest thing
he had ever seen.

"You are a cowboy, I presume?" said Sillett, as Bud disappeared. Not
waiting for Jeff's answer, he went on fluently: "I'm sure I can trust
you; you have an honest face, sir. I'm collecting certain plants and
butterflies, but--I have other reasons for camping out. My daughter
has played the boy, because a boy is safe in these wild hills; an
unprotected girl might be molested. We will do what we can for you.
You, I am sure, will respect this confidence."

Sillett played his trumps boldly, not knowing that he was speaking to
a deputy-sheriff. Jeff said nothing. Sillett, after asking if the
horse had been fed and watered, followed his daughter into the hut.
Jeff groaned to himself. "Mighty soon I'll be wishing I'd never been
born!"

However, assured that he was alone, he carefully examined his six-
shooter, and began to reckon what chances there were for and against
arresting Sillett single-handed. Ordinarily, he was quick enough at
such calculations, but Bud introduced confusion into every sum. "I'm
in an awful hole," reflected the unhappy Jeff.

The hole became a bottomless pit when Bud appeared in a pretty linen
frock, and asked him demurely how he fared.

"You're looking worse," she said.

Changing her dress, she had cast off with the rough overalls such
rugosities of manner, speech, and intonation as belonged to the
ragamuffin of the foothills. Poor Jeff assumed his "society" manner
and accent.

"If I'd only known," he began lamely.

"You never suspected?"

A note of anxiety escaped Jeff's ears.

"N-n-no. Of course not. Why, th