lied steadily. "They're coming too near to be
comfortable. We got to have help."

He raised his fists and shook them. "Help an' fiddlesticks!" he
blustered. "_Thet_ ain't no Injuns! It's thet Shanty Town blackleg
a-tryin' t' skeer us. Go look at th' groun'--go look at th' groun', Ah
say. _See_ if they's moccasin tracks thereabout. Ah bet y' won't fin'
any!" He turned back to the scattered splinters, pulling Dallas after
him.

Together they got down, examining with care. As he had said, there were
no prints of an Indian shoe in the soft earth. But mingling with the
round, faint marks of his own naked heel were those--more plainly
stamped--of a large boot. They led up to the spot from the nearest
point on the river; and back upon themselves toward the same point.

"W'at'd Ah tell y'?" demanded the section-boss, almost triumphantly. His
voice quavered, however, and he gulped. "It's thet scalawag, an' he
wanted us t' know it! Ain't ev'ry Injun in fifty mile shet up tight in
yon corral? Ev'ry one 'cept Charley--an' this ain't the job o' _thet_
blamed fool. No, siree! An' then, th' mules didn' make no row las'
night. They'd a shore snorted if it was Injuns----"

"I guess that's so," agreed Dallas, hastily, and made him a warning
sign. Marylyn was moving about inside, and calling.

But he was beyond thought for another. "Bosh! bosh!" he cried. "She's
got t' stop bein' coddled an' know w'at's w'at. _You_ got t' stop
talkin' Fort. Ah'm goin' t' ketch thet low-down skunk 'thout no
soldiers. An' _Ah'll_ pepper his ugly hide! _Ah'll_ make him spit blood
like a broncho-buster. Th' _idee_ o' his havin' th' gall!" He rammed the
Sharps into its rack and laughed immoderately.

"Oh, pa!" expostulated Marylyn, in a startled whisper, and flew to
Dallas. Her face, still pink from slumber, paled a little. She laid it
against her sister. Long ago, she had seen her father roused to the same
pitch. The sight had terrified her, and blunted some earlier and
tenderer memories.

"You git you' clothes on," he ordered roughly, "an' rustle us some
breakfas'."

She retreated, ready for tears.

Dallas walked up to him, gave him his crutches, and put a hand on his
shoulder. "Dad," she said firmly, "don't take out your mad on Marylyn.
Keep it all for--him." She nodded south toward Brannon. "That's where it
belongs."

"Dallas, you plumb disgus' me," he retorted. "Talkin' soldier, when y'
know Matthews could buy th' hull kit an' boodle with a s