ians and the skin-hunters up and down. Well, the country got
into my blood. You get the West, you know, and it's the only disease out
here that you can't shake. So I've stayed, and I guess I'll keep
a-staying. But sometimes I get a notion to throw my stores up and go
into the cow business or farming."

Dallas sank back, checked, not by Lounsbury's words, but by her father.
The section-boss, one hand behind a hairy ear, was glowering at the
storekeeper. "Eh, what?" he asked suspiciously.

"I say I've a notion to take up some land," repeated Lounsbury. "Right
east of you wouldn't be a bad idea. The soil's wonderful hereabouts. No
stumps, no stones, and the loam's thick. Look in the coulee--you can see
there how far it is to the clay. That's why she wore down so deep----"

"Thet arroyo?"

"Yes. I believe I'll just pick out a quarter near it. Could plant a
store anyway, when the track comes."

"Yas, certainly," said Lancaster. He passed Dallas, giving her a
helpless, apprehensive stare. "But, shucks! Ah wouldn' be in sech a
tarnel hurry, ef Ah was you. Spring's plenty o' time."

Lounsbury swung round sharply. "Spring!" he exclaimed in amazement. "I
hope that hasn't been your plan, sir. A man can't file too soon."

Dallas leaned toward Lounsbury again, and her lips parted. But a quick,
peremptory gesture from her father interrupted. "Mar'lyn," he cried, his
eyes warning the elder girl, "look out fer thet coffee; it's a-bilin'
over."

And Dallas saw that her father did not trust the storekeeper--perhaps
feared him--and that he did not wish his own neglect to be known.

But a hint of the state of affairs at the shack had already entered
Lounsbury's mind. As Marylyn rose to pour the coffee, he quickly changed
the subject. "Fort 's a quiet place, these days," he observed, accepting
a cup. "Wonder when the troops'll be back."

The section-boss sipped at his saucer. "Ah don' carry on no dealin's
with Yankee soldier trash," he answered curtly. "They keep they side o'
th' river, an' we-all keep ourn."

Lounsbury laughed. "Well," he said, "you'll find when the redskins get
nasty that the army blue looks pretty good."

The other shrugged.

The storekeeper tapped the holster hanging upon a thigh. "I carry a
pop-gun regular." He set down the cup, pulled at his boot-legs and
arose.

"Ah reckon Ah c'n hol' my own, sah." Lancaster's pride was touched.

"No doubt of it," assured the younger man, preparing to go. "I hope,"