So that is how it happened that young Bud Larkin, leaving his own tall sorrel in Delkin's stable as hostage of a sort, drove blithely out to the Meadowlark with a hired team and a spring wagon and two passengers squeezed into the front seat with him and three trunks piled high and tied there with Bud's good grass rope. CHAPTER SEVEN WAYS AND MEANS When the hired rig from Smoky Ford swung through the gate and on up to the very porch of the house, with Bud grinning impudently at his world from the driver's seat and a strange young woman wedged in between him and a young man who bore all the earmarks of a pilgrim, and three huge trunks lashed to the back of the vehicle to say that the visitors had come to stay, Lark stood in the doorway and stared dazedly, with never a word of welcome for the strangers. But Maw did not hesitate or question. Instead, she hurried out--walking erect under Lark's braced arm in the doorway with plenty of room to spare--and waddled to the edge of the porch, smiling unabashed. Marge almost screamed at sight of her. "Get right down and come on in," Maw cried. "Supper's about ready. As luck would have it, I killed that speckled hen that wanted to set and cooked her with dumplings. We're almost ready to sit down, and I'll bet you're hungry!" Bud had swung his long legs out over the wheel and landed beside her, and Marge was shocked to see him lift the misshapen creature clear of the ground and kiss her on each leathery cheek before he set her down again and turned to help Marge out. "Maw, this is Miss Brunelle. She's going to teach school here. And this is her brother, Lightfoot. He's going to be a cowboy. Hello, Lark. Say, I promised Lightfoot that you'd give him a job so he can be with his sister while she teaches school. Where's Skookum?" "Oh, he went down to feed the cougar. I'm so glad we're going to have a school," cried Maw, without batting an eye or waiting for Lark to struggle through a sentence. "Larkie's real glad too. Of course he'll put Mr. Lightfoot right to work. Now, come right in, folks, and take off your things while I put on a couple more plates. Buddy, I'm afraid we haven't a room ready for Mr. Lightfoot--" "He can bunk with me to-night," Bud interrupted, glancing up from unroping the trunks. "Say, Lark, the bank was robbed yesterday and the cashier killed. That's why I didn't get in quicker. I had to stay for the inquest this morning. No sign of the bunch that did it." The trunks thudded one by one to the porch. "It happened just before I went to cash that check. Say, Maw, Lightfoot's name is Brunelle, same as his sister, if you want to Mister him." He stepped on the hub of the front wheel and went up, unwrapping the lines from around the whipstock as he did so. Lark came to life then and climbed in and stood behind the seat while Bud drove back to the stable.