“So I lay in the brush near their camp,” the gay-cat explained. “York went down to the railroad yards. He’s likely riding the rods for ’Frisco by this time. After dark Cig started this way and I followed. When he left the track, I trailed behind. The moon wasn’t up, and I lost him. I knew he couldn’t be far away, so I headed for the ranch, keeping close to the creek. For a while I didn’t see or hear anything more of him. Just as I’d made up my mind to strike for the house, the fires flamed up. I heard two or three shots, then some one went by me on the run. Time for me to be going, I thought. Your Mr. Forbes was of another opinion. He showed up just then and invited me to stay.” Reed’s cool, shrewd eyes had not lifted from the tramp while he was making the explanation. He was convinced that he had been told the truth. The man had come out to do a service for his children, which was equivalent to one for Clint himself. Again he felt the sting of self-reproach at having played a poor part in this drama that had been flung into the calmness of their quiet round of existence. “Glad Lon did find you,” the wounded man responded. “I’ll go the whole hog and tell you straight I’m right sorry for the way I’ve treated you. That makes twice you’ve come through for me. I’ll not forget it, Mr.----” He hesitated, waiting for the other to supply the name. “Mr. Ne’er-do-well,” suggested the white-faced tramp, and on his face was a grim, ironic smile. Reed flushed. “You’ve a right to remind me of that if you want to. It’s not the first time I’ve been a damned fool, and it likely won’t be the last. But you can tie to this, young man.” The steel-gray eyes seized those of the hobo and held them fast. “If ever there comes a time when you need Clint Reed, he’ll be here waiting. Send for him, and he’ll come. That’s a promise.” “Will he bring along with him Dusty and Mr. Forbes and the rest of his outfit?” Tug asked, a derisive flash in his eyes. “Say anything you’ve a mind to. I’ll not blame you if you hold hard feelings. I would in your place. But don’t forget the fact. If you’re ever in trouble, Betty and I are here waiting to be called on.” The girl slipped her hand into her father’s and gave it a quick squeeze. It told better than words how glad she was of the thing he was doing. “I can count on that knock-out punch of yours, can I?” the prisoner asked ironically. The girl came forward impulsively, a shell-pink flag fluttering in her cheeks. “Please don’t feel that way. We’re sorry--we truly are. We’d love to have you give us a chance to show you how we feel.” The hard lines on his face broke. An expression warm and tender transformed it. He turned his back on the others and spoke for her ears alone.