Belle would not even consider the proposition. The Lorrigan reputation never had troubled her much,--but it sent her now to the shed where hides were kept stored until the hide buyer made his next annual visit through the country. She did not believe that she would find any brand save the various combinations of the NL monogram, but she meant to make sure before any stranger was given access to the place. The _job_ was neither easy nor pleasant, but she did it thoroughly. Riley, roosting meditatively on the top rail of the corral where he could watch the road down the bluff, craned his long neck inquiringly toward her when she returned. "Nothing but NL stuff, just as I thought," said Belle, holding her hands as far away from her face as possible. "I knew Tom wouldn't have any stolen hides on the place--but it was best to make sure." "No ma'am, he wouldn't. I'm shore surprised they'd come and try to find any. Looks bad to me, Belle. Looks to me like somebody is shore tryin' to start somethin'. There's plenty in the Black Rim would like to see Tom railroaded to the pen--plenty. Looks to me like they're aimin' to pin something on him. No, sir, I don't like it. Uh course," he went on, letting himself loose-jointedly to the ground, "they couldn't get nothing on Tom--not unless they framed something. But I wouldn't put it a-past 'em to do it. No, ma'am, I wouldn't." "Your bread's burning, Riley. I can smell it. Don't you never think they'll frame on Tom. They may try it--but that's as far as they'll get. They don't want to start anything with the Lorrigans!" "Well, I left the oven door open. She ain't burning to hurt. Yuh see, Scotty Douglas, he's religious and he don't never pack a gun. Them kind's bad to tangle up with; awful bad. There ain't nothing much a man can do with them religious birds. Them not being armed, you can't shoot--it's murder. And that kinda ties a man's hands, as yuh might say. They always take advantage of it, invariable. No, ma'am, it looks bad." "It'll look worse--for them that tries any funny business with this outfit," Belle assured him. "Go along and 'tend to your baking. You know I hate burnt bread. I'm going to drive over and see what they're up to." She untied Rosa and Subrosa, and because she was in a hurry she permitted Riley to hold them by the bits while she climbed in, got the lines firmly in one hand and her blacksnake in the other. Not often did she deign to accept assistance, and Riley was all aquiver with gratified vanity at this mark of her favor. "Turn 'em loose--and get to that bread!" she cried, and circled the pintos into the road. "You, Sub! Cut that out, now--settle down! Rosa! Stead-dy, I ain't any Ben Hur pulling off a chariot race, remember!"