livin' down in
Mexico. Lorry is their boy. Now, Jim is as straight as a ruler; I don't
know just why she left him. But let that rest. I got a telegram from the
marshal of Criswell. Reads like Jim was livin', but livin' mighty clost
to the edge. Now, if I was to send word to Lorry he'd just nacherally
buckle on a gun and go after them Brewster boys, if they's any of 'em
left. He might listen to me if I could talk to him. Writin' is no good.
And I ain't rigged up to follow him across the ridge. It's bad country
over there. I reckon I better leave word with you. If he gets word of
the shootin' while he's out there, he'll just up and cut across the
hills to Criswell a-smokin'. But if he gets this far back he's like to
come through Jason--and I can cool him down, mebby."

"He ought to know; if his father is--"

"That's just it. But I'm thinkin' of the boy. Jim Waring's lived a big
chunk of his life. But they ain't no use of the kid gettin' shot up. It
figures fifty that I ought to get word to him, and fifty that I ought to
keep him out of trouble--"

"I didn't know he was that kind of a chap: that is, that he would go out
after those men--"

"He's Jim Waring's boy," said Bud.

"It's too bad. I heard of that other killing."

"Yes. And I've a darned good mind to fly over to Criswell myself. I
knowed Pat better than I did Jim. But I can't ride like I used to.
But"--and the supervisor sighed heavily--"I reckon I'll go just the
same."

"I'll give your message to Adams, Mr. Shoop."

"All right. And tell him I want to see him. How's the little lady these
days?"

"She seems to be much stronger, and she is in love with the hills and
canons."

"I'm right glad of that. Kind of wish I was up here myself. Why, already
they're houndin' me down there to go into politics. I guess they want to
get me out of this job, 'cause I can't hear crooked money jingle. My
hands feels sticky ever' time I think of politics. And even if a fella's
hands ain't sticky--politics money is. Why, it's like to stick to his
feet if he ain't right careful where he walks!"

"I wish you would stay to dinner, Mr. Shoop."

"So I'll set and talk my fool notions--and you with a writin' machine
handy? Thanks, but I reckon I'll light a shuck for Jason. See my piano?"

"Yes, indeed. Dorothy was trying it a few nights ago."

"Then she can play. Missy," and he called to Dorothy, who was having an
extravagant romp with Bondsman, "could you play a tune for yo