"Quit what?" asked Dorothy, smiling. Little Jim did not know just what he was going to quit, but he had imagination. "Why, quit takin' you out huntin' and campin' and showin' you how to tell deer tracks from goat's tracks--and everything." "But I have a beau," said Dorothy teasingly. "Who is he?" demanded Little Jim. "Promise you won't tell?" Little Jim hesitated. He did not consider it quite the thing to promise a girl anything. But he was curious. "Uh-huh," he said. "Jimmy Hastings!" said Dorothy, laughing at his expression. "That ain't fair!" blurted Little Jim. "I ain't nobody's beau. Shucks! Now you gone and spoiled all the fun." "I was only teasing you, Jimmy." And she patted Little Jim's tousled head. He wriggled away and smoothed down his hair. "I can beat you shootin' at tin cans," he said suddenly, to change the subject. Shooting at tin cans was much more interesting than talking about beaux. "I have to help Aunt Jane get supper," said Dorothy, who had been invited to stay for supper that evening. In fact, she was often at the Hastings ranch, a more than welcome guest. Jimmy scowled. Dorry was always helping Aunt Jane make dresses or trim hats, or get supper. A few minutes later Little Jim was out back of the barn, scowling over the sights of his twenty-two at a tomato can a few yards away. He fired and punctured the can. "Plumb center!" he exclaimed. "You think you're her beau, do you? Well, that's what you get. And if I see you around this here ranch, just even _lookin'_ at her, I'll plug you again." Jimmy was romancing, with the recently discussed subject of beaux in mind. When Little Jim informed the household that his father and another man were coming over, that evening, Uncle Frank asked who the other man was. Little Jim described Bartley and told about the wonderful Luger gun. "My dad is huntin' his hosses," he said. "And I know who's got 'em!" "Was the other man a deputy?" queried Uncle Frank. "He didn't have a badge on him. He kind of acted like everything was a joke--shootin' at that stump, and everything. He wasn't mad at nobody. And he looked kind of like a dude." Little Jim meanwhile amused himself by trying to rope the family cat with a piece of clothesline. Uncle Frank, who took everything seriously, asked Little Jim if he had told his father where the horses were. "Sure I told him. Wouldn't you? They're dad's hosses, Filaree and Josh. I guess he'll make ole Clubfoot Sneed give 'em back!" "You want to be careful what you say about Mr. Sneed, Jimmy. And don't you go to ridin' over that way again. We aim to keep out of trouble." Little Jim had succeeded in noosing the cat's neck. That sadly molested animal jumped, rolled over, and clawed at the rope, and left hurriedly with the bit of clothesline trailing in its wake.