"Well," said Jack, just the least regretting he had not, "I didn't know how much of a 'stink' it would raise. The Utes are getting pretty bad, and the whole parcel of them might take a notion to come up here and clean out the Park before the soldiers could stop them." "What d' yer mean?" anxiously asked both his listeners, with a perceptible blanching of their bronzed faces. "Old Yamanatz tells me things aren't going just right at the agency. Colorow and Douglas' band of renegade Utes were camped outside the reservation, two miles from the cabin where the trapper and I put up. Didn't the trapper tell you anything?" suddenly asked Jack. The ranchmen looked curiously at one another, and Tracy evasively remarked, "Well, he didn't say much; just said he got lonesome and had left the old woman without any wood an' allowed he'd cut some for her, then he'd go back byme-by." "Yes, byme-by," scornfully broke in Jack, adding, with some feeling, "Between me and the corral that trapper is afraid of the Utes and left me in the lurch." Tracy and Bill exchanged glances, as much as to say, "The tenderfoot has got his eye-teeth cut all right." Bill spoke up as if a sudden impulse had made him forget the dangers that lurked in the Ute question. "How about that redskin g--g--gal? Tho't mebbe so y--y--yer hed jined in holy wedlock into the Ute family," at which both the ranchmen slapped their hands together and laughed uproariously. Jack joined in with them, for he appreciated the gossip of ranch life, and no sewing bee ever furnished better "stamping ground" for wagging tongues than the frontier masculine brand. Bill set about getting something to eat, and Jack had a double-barreled appetite stowed away under his belt. The table, with its marble oilcloth, real stone china plates, cups, saucers, glass vinegar cruets and a molasses jug, was soon loaded with a big platter of venison, a plate of hot biscuits, a pot of coffee, a pitcher of rich cream and a crock of yellow butter. It was nearly three months since Jack had put his legs under any kind of a table or seen anything the color of butter or cream, and it was a treat that could not have been equaled in Delmonico's to draw up to that feast with those truly honest brothers of wild civilization, partake of their hospitality and listen to their straightforward talk, rich in its omission of studied rhetoric or ponderous grammatical phrases; no fear of using the wrong spoon or creating a social riot by helping one's self to a little venison gravy, even sopping the bread in the platter. Etiquette, frills and napkins had to give way to blunt speech, solid, wholesome food and a red bandanna. Back of it all, too, was his famous digestion and ravenous appetite, essential elements that have no co-existence with spike-tailed coats, trained gowns, "eye-openers" and "night caps." Jack had been busy, but he slowed down long enough to let out his belt one hole. Bill had entertained in the conversation direction.