"Dunno. He may take in the Two Bar, Wagonwheel, T V U, an' the Double Diamond K before he comes back, He might stay away a week, or three weeks, or a month. Yuh can't keep tabs on Scotty. I tried to once, but I give it up long ago." Loudon did not take the garrulous Doubleday into his confidence. Nor did he mention the matter to Laguerre. The half-breed had seen O'Leary ride up to the blacksmith shop, and his Gallic curiosity was aroused to the full. "My frien'," said Laguerre, when Loudon and he were mending a break in the corral fence the following day, "my frien', I wan' for tell you somethin'. Somethin' mabbeso you not see. Yes'erday O'Leary she come to de ranch; she go to de blacksmith shop. I see heem before she go to de blacksmith shop. I see heem aftair. Before she see you dere een de shop hees face was de face of de man who ees not satisfy, who ees hunt for somethin'. Wen I see heem aftair, she look satisfy. She has foun' w'at she hunt for. Are you me?" Loudon nodded. "O'Leary's takin' a heap o' trouble on my account," he said, slowly. "More dan I t'ought she would," vouchsafed Laguerre. "I tell you, Tom, she have not de good feelin' for you. Were ees dat damn hammair gone?" Three weeks later, Loudon and Laguerre were lazily enjoying the cool of the evening outside the door of the bunkhouse when Doubleday came striding toward them. In one hand the foreman waved a letter. He appeared to be annoyed. He was. "Tom, Scotty wants yuh to meet him at the Bend Tuesday--that's to-morrow," said Doubleday, crossly. "Yuh'll find him at the Three Card. ---- it to ----! An' I wanted you an' Telescope to ride the north range to-morrow! Which that Scotty Mackenzie is shore the most unexpected gent! Says he wants yuh to ride yore own hoss. Dunno what he wants yuh for. He don't say. Just says meet him." Doubleday departed, swearing. "Pore old Doubleday," drawled a bristle-haired youth named Swing Tunstall. "He gets a heap displeased with Scotty sometimes." "Scotty ain't just regular in his ways," commented Giant Morton, a dwarfish man with tremendously long arms. "Scotty wasn't goin' beyond the Wagonwheel, if he got that far, an' his letter was mailed in Rocket, fifty miles south. I brought her in from the Bend this aft'noon, an' I noticed the postmark special." "He wears the raggedest clo'es I ever seen," said the cook. "An' he's got money, too." "Money!" exclaimed Morton. "He's lousy with money. Wish I had it. Do yuh know what I'd do? I'd buy me a seventeen-hand hoss an' a saloon." "I wouldn't," said Loudon, winking at Laguerre. "I'd have a _hacienda_ down in old Mexico, an' I'd hire half-a-dozen good-lookin' _señoritas_ with black hair an' blue eyes to play tunes for me on banjos, an' I'd hire cookie here to come an' wake me up every mornin' at five o'clock just so's I could have the pleasure o' heavin' him out o' the window an' goin' back to sleep."