"Even Inez, she tried to stop me. Says some one has got to get her some cedar wood for her heater stove. 'You get you some squaw-wood, Inez,' I deponed. 'Them that can't make the men chop regular wood for 'em, don't deserve nothing better than brittle stuff like alder. Get you some squaw-wood, Inez,' I deponed. Douglas, they are plumb jealous of you. Since you seen there was something to me beside a old half-wit, they've all been horning round, jealous like, to get me." Douglas, his yellow hair a glory in the rising sun, nodded seriously. "Look to your saddle, Johnny, then come in to breakfast. I've got a few steers I want to dehorn to-day, so you're just in time." The preacher was still at breakfast when old Johnny came in. The two old men stared at each other with unmixed interest. Douglas stood with his back to the stove, a cigarette drooping from his lips, a remote twinkle in his eyes. Johnny lushed down his second saucer of coffee before he attempted to marshall his thoughts into speech. But, having accomplished this, he said, "Doug and me are gregus great friends, Mr. Fowler. There ain't anybody in Lost Chief thinks as much of him as I do." The preacher nodded. "Douglas says he's fond of you." "I guess he is," returned Johnny, condescendingly. "I guess if the truth be deponed he's fonder of me than he is of anybody--excepting maybe Judith. And Judith, she sure-gawd don't apregate Doug like I do, even if I am a half-wit. Judith's awful smart but she ain't got much sense." "Judith is pretty fine, Johnny!" exclaimed Douglas, with the faint glow in his blue eyes that mention of her name always brought. "Yes, she is," agreed Johnny. "But she's just like her mother was. All fire. And you can squench fire so it's just ashes. It would be a gregus good thing for the Valley if John Spencer was to break his neck." "Don't say that, Johnny!" protested the preacher. "After all, he's one of God's creatures." Johnny chuckled. "Now, who is half-witted, huh?" "Young Jeff back on the mail route, Johnny?" asked Douglas hastily. "Yes. Peter Knight, he's awful fond of Judith." Douglas looked at Johnny keenly, his jaw setting as he did so. Was there, he thought, something obvious here, or was it only the half-wit's curiously sharp but confused intuition at work? At any rate, he must know the truth. He could not endure this added uneasiness. "On second thoughts," he said aloud, "I think I'll not dehorn to-day. I want to get an order off for a new saddle on to-day's mail stage. Johnny, one of your main jobs is to guard the sky pilot and the chapel, when I'm not here. You're not to let anything happen to either of them." "Shall I shoot on sight?" demanded the little old man. Mr. Fowler smiled. Douglas shook his head. "No; let's not get into that kind of trouble. You don't carry a gun anyhow, do you?" "No," plaintively. "Grandma won't let me. But I thought you'd loan me something."