to make things hard for him."

"Far's I'm concerned I'm his meat," said McHale. "I'd have to come in,
anyway, now. Sandy was a durn fool ever to hide out. I shouldn't have
let him. Lucky for me I did, though."

"That's sense," said the sheriff. "You boys will find I'm all right to
get on with. I haven't heard you say anything, McCrae?"

"I guess I don't need to say anything," said Sandy. "Casey came along
with you, didn't he? That's good enough for me."

"I'm right obliged to him, too," said Dove. "He's sure saved me a lot
of trouble. Lemme see that arm of yours, McHale. I savvy a little about
them things. Anyway, I'll fix up some splints for it till you can get
hold of a regular medicine man."

CHAPTER XXXII

"And so you're going to marry this Casey Dunne," said old Jim Hess. He
and Clyde sat on the veranda at Chakchak, and they had been discussing
the ranch, its owner, and the events that had led up to his absence.

"Yes, Uncle Jim, I'm going to marry him."

"Well," said the big railway man, "making allowance for your natural
partiality, his stock seems to be worth about par. I'll know better
when I've had a look at him. I tell you one thing, I'm glad he isn't a
foreigner. I never liked those fellows who tagged about after you. This
country can produce as good men as you'll find. The others weren't my
sort. All right in their way, perhaps, but they seemed to go too much
on family and ancestry. That's good enough, too, but it seems to me
that the ancestors of some of them must have been a blamed sight better
men than they were. After all, a girl doesn't marry the ancestor. Dunne
seems to have hoed his own row. That's what I did. I'm prepared to like
him. Only I don't want you to make any mistake."

"There's no mistake, Uncle Jim," she said, patting his big hand.
"Casey's a _man_. You _will_ like him. Look away out there where the
dust is rising! Aren't those men on horseback? Yes, they are. It must
be Casey coming home." Her pleasure was apparent in her voice.

The dust cloud resolved itself into four mounted men and three pack
animals. They moved slowly, at a walk almost, the dust puffing up from
the hoofs drifting over and enveloping them.

"Which is your Casey Dunne?" asked Hess.

Clyde stared with troubled eyes.

"I--I don't see him. There's Tom McHale, and the sheriff, and Sandy
McCrae, and the old Indian. Why, Tom McHale has been hurt. His arm is
in a sling. How slowly they ride! It's--it's