"She has an intelligent eye." Judith was going over the horse eagerly. Douglas smiled a little. The range horse, with its slender, hard-muscled beauty, was no finer drawn than Judith circling carefully about the corral, the wind whipping her black hair across her thin, vivid face. "I don't believe she'll eat with us all watching her," said Mary. "Let's go in to our own supper." "She'll have to eat pretty soon or give up." Douglas followed Judith into the kitchen. "She hasn't eaten a pound since I caught her." "Poor little thing!" exclaimed Judith. At supper Douglas gave the details of the hunt, which were greeted by the family with considerable hilarity. "One no-account horse to show for a week's hard work!" laughed John. But Douglas was not perturbed. "I don't mind," he said. "Wild horses was the least of what I went after and, as it turned out, the least of what I got. I met Mr. Fowler." "The old preacher?" exclaimed Judith. "Where was he?" "He starved out at preaching and is herding sheep down in the Green Thimble country. He fed Charleton and me and we had a long talk." "You had nerve to eat with him after what you did to him!" John was grinning. "I felt that way myself," agreed Douglas. "But he didn't hold a grudge against me. He's not that kind. And I think he was so lonely he'd have been glad to feed the Old Nick himself." "Who is he herding for?" asked Mary. "Some one in Denver. He's going to give it up in the fall." "What for? Got a church?" John was still grinning. Douglas nodded slowly. "Yes, he's got a church." "Did he tell you where?" asked Mary. "Yes; it's in Lost Chief," replied Douglas. "Lost Chief!" roared John. "What are you giving us?" "I'm giving it to you straight. I asked him if he would come if I'd build him a little church up on my part of the ranch and he said he would." There was a stunned silence while the audience of three considered this reply. Judith eyed Doug intently, then said, "I bite! What is the joke, Douglas?" "No joke. I asked him to come. I want to hear what he has to say." "What did Charleton say about it?" asked Mary. "Charleton doesn't know. I certainly wouldn't give him a chance to spoil the trip." Douglas tossed the thick yellow hair from his forehead and waited for his father's comment. He could not recall ever having carried on a more difficult conversation than this. There were beads of sweat on his upper lip. Old Fowler had warned him of the antagonism he would meet. And here it was. The air was black with it before a hundred words had been spoken. John scratched his head. "You mean you actually asked that old fool to come here and preach in Lost Chief?" Douglas nodded over a piece of pie. "Only," he added, "he's not a fool. Far from it. We may not agree with him, but he's a wise man. A very wise old man." "And you are going to build a church for him?" John went on. Again Douglas nodded. "Are you plumb loco?" John's voice began to rise.