But when Steve came back and slipped his feet into his boots and sat down across the table from her, Terry's face told him nothing. "You're a funny guy, Steve Packard," she admitted thoughtfully. "That's nothing," grinned Steve, by now quite himself again. "So are you!" She had come from the Temple ranch without any hat; her hair had tumbled down long ago and now framed her vivacious face most adorably. Adorably, that is, to a man's mind; other women are not always agreed upon such matters. At any rate, Steve watched with both admiration and regret in his eyes as Terry shook out the loose bronze tresses and began to bring neat order out of bewilderingly becoming chaos. Her mouth was full of pins when Bill Royce came in. But still she could whisper tantalizingly-- "If you picked on Bill for a chaperon because he's blind----" Royce stopped in the doorway. "That you, Terry Temple?" he asked. "An' you wanted me? What's up?" "I came to have a talk with Steve Packard," answered Terry promptly. She got up and took Royce's hands between hers and led him to a chair before she relinquished them. And before she went back to her own place she had said swiftly: "I haven't seen you since you licked Blenham. I--I am glad you got your chance, Bill." "Thank you, Miss Terry," said Royce quietly. "I sorta evened up things with him. Not quite. But sorta. Then you didn't want me?" "Not this trip, Bill. It's just a play of Mr. Packard's here. He didn't like to have it known that I had him all alone here; afraid it might compromise him, you know." She giggled. "Or queer him with his girl, mos' likely!" chuckled Royce. Whereat Steve glowered and Terry looked startled. "You're both talking nonsense," said Packard. He reached out for his pipe but dropped it again to the table without lighting it. "If there is anything I can do for you, Miss Temple----" He saw how the look in her eyes altered. Nothing less than an errand of transcendent importance could have brought her here and he knew it. And now, in quick, eager words she told him: "Blenham has almost put one across on us. Our outfit is mortgaged to your old thief of a grandfather for a miserable seven thousand dollars. Old Packard sent Blenham over to tell dad he is going to shove us out. Blenham plays foxy and offers dad a thousand dollars for the mortgage. Oh, I don't understand just how to say it, but Blenham has a few thousand dollars he has saved and stolen here and there, and he means to grab the Temple ranch for a total of eight thousand dollars; seven thousand to old Packard, one thousand to dad----" "But surely----" "Surely nothing! Dad's half full of whiskey as usual, and a thousand dollars looks as big to him as a full moon. Besides, he's sure of losing to old Hell-Fire sooner or later." "And you want me----"