"No. But who's giving it to them and why? I asked one fellow and he said he'd been to a birthday party, and wouldn't tell where. They were all feeling pretty lush, even if they weren't soused. And to-morrow's Sunday!" "They'll all be idle, you mean?" "Sure. If there's more liquor, they'll be after it. All day to drink in means a big celebration. The whiskey is sent up from town, of course, and I reckon sent just at this time to get us all in bad while Mr. Pollock's here." "We'll look up the bootlegging nest to-morrow," Meyers said, with finality. "What can we do if we do locate it? They're not selling the stuff, I judge, but giving it away. That clears their skirts and forces us to deal with the men themselves if there's any dealing done. Probably they hope to start a big row among us that way." "We'll await Weir's advice." "Well, I've waited all I'm going to to-night. Seems to me for a steady, quiet, self-respecting, dignified, unhooked, unmarried, unmortgaged, unromantic man he's skylarking and gallivanting around pretty late." * * * * * On the rocky creek road the ranchman and his daughter Mary were driving up among the trees on their way to the cabin, a lantern swinging from the end of the wagon tongue, the horses straining against the grade. On Johnson's beard the moisture formed beads which from time to time he brushed away. From the trees collected drops of water fell on their hands and knees. All about as they proceeded the bushes and rocks appeared in shadowy outline, to disappear in the night once more, yielding to others. "Isn't this cabin where we're going the one we drove to three years ago when you were hunting some cattle?" Mary asked. "Yes." "I never thought then that Ed Sorenson would be lying up there all mashed to pieces," she said, with awed voice. "I guess he didn't either," was the dry response. "He ought to be ready to stop chasing girls after this," she declared. "He won't if he can walk; his kind never does quit." "Then his kind ought to be locked up somewhere like mad dogs. In a 'sylum, maybe." "I guess you're right on that, Mary. They're dangerous." "Funny we didn't know he'd been up there, going past our house. He must have been there first before taking Janet." "Sneaked up in the night, probably. He'd have to have grub and so on if he expected to stay even a day or two. Crooks always look after their bellies, be sure." "I reckon Janet Hosmer will like Mr. Weir a whole lot now, don't you?" "She ought to, if she doesn't." A long silence followed while Mary apparently pursued the line of thought opened up by this speculation. "If she has the good sense I think she has," the rancher stated at length, for his mind at least had been following out the subject, "she'll not only like him a whole lot, but she'll lead him to the altar and put her brand on him."