ion. By virtue of this
absorbing occupation, he quite forgot the presence of the brother of
the woman. But a mile beyond the ranch young McCrae pulled up.

"I turn off here," he said.

"That so? Good night," said Farwell.

"There's something I came to tell you," McCrae pursued. "I'm not making
any grand-stand play about it; but you'd better be a lot more careful
when you're talking to my sister. Understand?"

"No, I don't," said Farwell. "I never said anything to Miss McCrae that
her father and mother mightn't hear."

"Oh, _that!_" said young Sandy, and spat in disgust. "No, I guess you
didn't--and you hadn't better. But you told her to do something--fairly
ordered her. I heard you, and I heard her tell you she wouldn't.
Perhaps you'll tell me what it was?"

"Perhaps I won't."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't want to, mostly," said Farwell impatiently. "Also
because it's none of your business. Your sister and I understand each
other. Our conversation didn't concern you--directly, anyway."

"I'll let it go at that on your say-so," Sandy returned, with
surprising calmness. "I'm not crowding trouble with you, but get this
clear: You know why you're hanging around the ranch, and I don't. All
the same, if you are up to any monkey business, you'll settle it with
me."

Farwell's temper, never reliable, rose at once.

"Quite a Wild West kid, aren't you?" he observed, with sarcasm. "You
make me tired. It's a good thing for you your people are decent." He
crowded his horse close to the other. "Now, look here, young fellow, I
won't stand for any fool boy's talk. You're old enough to know better.
Cut it out with me after this, do you hear?"

"Where are you coming with that cayuse?" demanded young McCrae, and
suddenly raked a rowelled heel behind the animal's shoulder.

Ensued five strenuous minutes for Farwell, wherein he sought to soothe
his mount's wounded feelings. When at last the quadruped condescended
to allow his four hoofs to remain on the ground simultaneously for more
than a fraction of a second, young McCrae was gone; and Farwell,
somewhat shaken, and profane with what breath was left him, had nothing
for it but to resume his homeward way.

CHAPTER IX

The astute Mr. Sleeman's prediction to Farwell--namely, that the
attitude of the ranchers would affect land sales--proved correct.
Naturally, owing to a perfect advertising machinery, a number of sales
were made to people at distant points, who bou