yes! The Senate adjourned after a
stormy session in which the Senator from Mesa County, supported by an
intelligent majority, passed his bill for the appropriation of twenty
thousand dollars to build a road from Jason to the Blue Mesa. What fun!"

Bud polished his bald head. "Now, I reckon that ain't such a joke. We'll
build a road plumb through to the old Apache Trail and ketch them
tourists goin' into Phoenix."

"You see," said Dorothy, turning to her father, "I know something about
politics. I read the local papers. Mr. Shoop's name is in every one of
them. I read that article about the Sterling strike. I have been
wondering--"

Shoop immediately called attention to Bondsman, who was gently tugging
at the supervisor's pants leg.

"Now, look at that! Do you know what he's tellin' me? He's tellin' me I
got a piano in that there cabin and we ain't had a duet for quite a
spell. That there dog bosses me around somethin' scandalous."

Bondsman slipped from beneath Dorothy's hand as she stooped to pat him.
He trotted to Shoop's cabin, and stood looking up at the door.

"Would you be playin' 'Annie Laurie' for us?" queried Shoop.

Dorothy played for them, unaccompanied by Bondsman. Shoop shook his
head. Either the tune had lost its charm for the Airedale or else
Dorothy's interpretation differed from Bud's own.

"Thanks, missy," said Shoop when she had finished playing. "Guess I'll
be movin' along."

"Oh, no! You'll stay to-night. I'll play for you. Make him stay,
father."

"I wish you would, Shoop. I'd like to talk with you about the election."

"Well, now, that's right neighborly of you folks. I was aimin' to ride
back this evening. But I reckon we'll stay. Bondsman and me ain't so
spry as we was."

After supper Dorothy played for them again, with no light except the
dancing red shadows from the pine logs that flamed in the fireplace.

Shoop thanked her. "I'll be livin' in town,"--and he sighed
heavily,--"where my kind of piano-playin' would bring the law on me,
most-like. Now, that ole piano is hacked up some outside, but she's got
all her innards yet and her heart's right. If you would be takin' it as
a kind of birthday present, it's yours."

"You don't mean _me_?"

"I sure do."

"But I couldn't accept such a big present. And then, when we go away
this winter--"

"Listen to your Uncle Bud, missy. A little lady give me a watch onct. 'T
wa'n't a big watch, but it was a big thing. 'Cause why? 'Cause th