The innuendo was plain, and Yeager put it into words. "I'd be right proud to have him for a friend. But we all know what you mean, Brill. Go right ahead. Try and persuade the boys I'm a rustler, too. They haven't known me on an average much over twenty years. But that doesn't matter. They're so durned teachable to-day maybe you can get them to swallow that with the rest." With which parting shot he followed Phyllis out of the store. She turned on him at the top of the porch steps leading to the house. "Did he tell you that Phil was the rustler?" "You mean did Keller tell me?" he said, surprised. "Yes. 'Rastus was in the live oak and heard all you said." "No. He didn't tell me that. We neither of us think it was Phil. It couldn't be, for he was riding with you at the time. But he found your knife there by the dead cow. Now, how did it come there? You let Phil have the knife. Had he lent his knife to some one?" "I don't know." She went on, after a momentary hesitation: "Are you quite sure, Jim, that he really found the knife there?" "He said so. I believe him." She sighed softly, as if she would have liked to feel as sure. "The reason I spoke of it was that I accused him of trying to throw the blame on Phil, and he told me to ask you about it." Jim shook his head. "Nothing to it. If you want my opinion, Keller is white clear enough. He wouldn't try a trick like that." The girl's face lit, and she held out an impulsive hand. "Anyhow, you're a good friend, Jim." "I've been that ever since you was knee high to a duck, Phyl." "Yes--yes, you have. The best I've got, next to Phil and Dad." Her heart just now was very warm to him. "Don't you reckon maybe a good friend might make a good--something else." She gasped. "Oh, Jim! You don't mean----" "Yep. That's what I do mean. Course I'm not good enough. I know that." "Good. You're the best ever. It isn't that. Only I don't like you that way." "Maybe you might some day." She shook her head slowly. "I wish I could, Jim. But I never will." "Is there--someone else, Phyl?" If it had been light enough he could have seen a wave of color sweep her face. "No. Of course there isn't. How could there be? I'm only a girl." "It ain't Brill then?" "No. It's--it isn't anybody." She carried the war, womanlike, into his camp. "And I don't believe you care for me--that way. It's just a fancy." "One I've had two years, little girl." "Oh, I'm sorry. I _do_ like you, better than any one else. You know that, dear old Jim." He smiled wistfully. "If you didn't like me so well I reckon I'd have a better chance. Well, I mustn't keep you here. Good night." Her ringers were lost in his big fist. "Good night, Jim." And again she added, "I'm so sorry." "Don't you be. It's all right with me, Phyl. I just thought I'd mention it. You never can tell, though I most knew how it would be. _Buenos noches, nina._"