"That's just it. But I'm thinkin' of the boy. Jim Waring's lived a big chunk of his life. But they ain't no use of the kid gettin' shot up. It figures fifty that I ought to get word to him, and fifty that I ought to keep him out of trouble--" "I didn't know he was that kind of a chap: that is, that he would go out after those men--" "He's Jim Waring's boy," said Bud. "It's too bad. I heard of that other killing." "Yes. And I've a darned good mind to fly over to Criswell myself. I knowed Pat better than I did Jim. But I can't ride like I used to. But"--and the supervisor sighed heavily--"I reckon I'll go just the same." "I'll give your message to Adams, Mr. Shoop." "All right. And tell him I want to see him. How's the little lady these days?" "She seems to be much stronger, and she is in love with the hills and cañons." "I'm right glad of that. Kind of wish I was up here myself. Why, already they're houndin' me down there to go into politics. I guess they want to get me out of this job, 'cause I can't hear crooked money jingle. My hands feels sticky ever' time I think of politics. And even if a fella's hands ain't sticky--politics money is. Why, it's like to stick to his feet if he ain't right careful where he walks!" "I wish you would stay to dinner, Mr. Shoop." "So I'll set and talk my fool notions--and you with a writin' machine handy? Thanks, but I reckon I'll light a shuck for Jason. See my piano?" "Yes, indeed. Dorothy was trying it a few nights ago." "Then she can play. Missy," and he called to Dorothy, who was having an extravagant romp with Bondsman, "could you play a tune for your Uncle Bud?" "Of course." And she came to them. They walked to the cabin. Bondsman did not follow. He had had a hard play, and was willing to rest. Dorothy drew up the piano stool and touched the keys. Bud sank into his big chair. Bronson stood in the doorway. By some happy chance Dorothy played Bud's beloved "Annie Laurie." When she had finished, Bud blew his nose sonorously. "I know that tune," he said, gazing at Dorothy in a sort of huge wonderment. "But I never knowed all that you made it say." He rose and shuffled to the doorway, stopping abruptly as he saw Bondsman. Could it be possible that Bondsman had not recognized his own tune? Bud shook his head. There was something wrong somewhere. Bondsman had not offered to come in and accompany the pianist. He must have been asleep. But Bondsman had not been asleep. He rose and padded to Shoop's horse, where he stood, a statue of rugged patience, waiting for Shoop to start back toward home. "Now, look at that!" exclaimed Bud. "He's tellin' me if I want to get back to Jason in time to catch the stage to-morrow mornin' I got to hustle. That there dog bosses me around somethin' scandalous." When Shoop had gone, Dorothy turned to her father. "Mr. Shoop didn't ask me to play very much. He seemed in a hurry."