He hardened his heart to her generous appeal to him. “It’s a very comfortable point of view to have,” he said with no spring of life in his voice. “And a true one,” she added swiftly. “If you say so, of course.” His skeptical smile made no concessions. He turned to leave, but stopped to look at a cloud of white dust moving down the road toward them. CHAPTER VII TUG SAYS, “NO, THANK YOU” The advancing dust cloud rose from a little group of horses and men. Some of the latter were riding. Others were afoot. “Lon’s caught them,” said Betty. “I’m sorry.” “Not so sorry as they’ll be,” returned the ragged youth grimly. The foreman swung heavily from his horse. Though he was all muscle and bone, he did not carry his two hundred pounds gracefully. “We got the birds all right, Miss Betty, even if they were hittin’ the trail right lively,” he called to the girl, an ominous grin on his leathery face. “I guess they’d figured out this wasn’t no healthy climate for them.” He added, with a swift reversion to business, “Where’s yore paw?” “Not back yet. What’ll he do with them, Lon?” the girl asked, her voice low and troubled. Distressed in soul, she was looking for comfort. The big foreman gave her none. “He’ll do a plenty. You don’t need to worry about that. We aim to keep this country safe for our womenfolks.” “Oh, I wish he wouldn’t. I wish he’d let them go,” she said, almost in a wail. “He won’t. Clint ain’t that soft.” Forbes stared at the disreputable vagrant standing beside Betty. “What’s he doing here?” “Dusty dragged him back. That’s all the sense he has.” Lon spoke just as though the vagrant were not present. “Lucky for him he’s got an alibi this time.” “Is it necessary to insult him after he protected me?” the girl demanded, eyes flashing. “I’m ashamed of you, Lon.” He was taken aback. “I reckon it takes more’n that to insult a hobo.” “Is a man a hobo because he’s looking for work?” The foreman’s hard gaze took in the man, his white face and soft hands. “What would he do if he found it?” he asked bluntly. “You’ve no right to say that,” she flung back. “I think it’s hateful the way you’re all acting. I tell you he fought for me--after what Father did to him.” “Fought for you?” This was news to Lon. His assumption had been that the young fellow had merely entered a formal protest in order to clear himself in case retribution followed. “You mean with his fists?” “Yes--against the thin-faced one. He thrashed him and put me on my horse and started me home. Then Dusty ropes him and drags him here on the ground and you come and insult him. He must think we’re a grateful lot.”