"I shouldn't like it a bit if I thought he took care of them just because he had to." "Oh, Adams is all right, Peter. I have noticed one or two things about him." "Well, I have noticed that he has a tremendous appetite," laughed Dorothy. "And you're going to have, before we leave here, Peter Pan." "Then you'd better hurry and get that story written. I want a new saddle and, oh, lots of things!" Bronson patted her hand as she walked with him to the cabin. He sat down to his typewriter, and she came out with a book. She glanced up occasionally to watch the ponies grazing on the mesa. She was deeply absorbed in her story when some one called to her. She jumped up, dropping her book. Bud Shoop was sitting his horse a few paces away, smiling. He had ridden up quietly to surprise her. "A right lovely mornin', Miss Bronson. I reckon your daddy is busy." "Here I am," said Bronson, striding out and shaking hands with the supervisor. "Won't you come in?" "About that lease," said Shoop, dismounting. "If you got time to talk business." "Most certainly. Dorothy will excuse us." "Is Adams gone?" "He left this morning." "Uh-uh. Here, Bondsman, quit botherin' the young lady." "He isn't bothering. I know what he wants." And she ran to the kitchen. Shoop's face grew grave. "I didn't want to scare the little lady, Bronson, but Lorry's father--Jim Waring--has been shot up bad over to Criswell. He went in after that Brewster outfit that killed Pat. I reckon he got 'em--but I ain't heard." "Adams's father!" "Yes, Jim Waring. Here comes the little missy. I'll tell you later. Now Bondsman is sure happy." And Bud forced a smile as Dorothy gave the dog a pan of something that looked suspiciously like bones and shreds of turkey meat. A little later Bud found excuse to call Bronson aside to show him a good place to fence-in the corral. Dorothy was playing with Bondsman. "Jim's been shot up bad. I was goin' to tell you that Annie Adams, over to Stacey, is his wife. She left him when they was livin' down in Mexico. Lorry is their boy. Now, Jim is as straight as a ruler; I don't know just why she left him. But let that rest. I got a telegram from the marshal of Criswell. Reads like Jim was livin', but livin' mighty clost to the edge. Now, if I was to send word to Lorry he'd just nacherally buckle on a gun and go after them Brewster boys, if they's any of 'em left. He might listen to me if I could talk to him. Writin' is no good. And I ain't rigged up to follow him across the ridge. It's bad country over there. I reckon I better leave word with you. If he gets word of the shootin' while he's out there, he'll just up and cut across the hills to Criswell a-smokin'. But if he gets this far back he's like to come through Jason--and I can cool him down, mebby." "He ought to know; if his father is--"