"Surely! A mysteriously worded affair, telling little and saying much. Music and refresh--no, by heck, that sounds too wet and not solid enough. Music and supper furnished free. Everybody welcome. Can't Riley drive the chuck-wagon over and have the supper served by a camp-fire? Golly, but I've been hungry for that old chuck-wagon! That would keep all the mess of coffee and sandwiches out of the nice, new schoolhouse." "Who's going to hold their hat in front of the nice, new schoolhouse till it's done and ready? And how're you going to let 'em know where to come to, without giving away the secret?" Al, the practical, stretched his long legs to the stove and thrust his hands deep into his trousers pockets while he propounded these two conundrums. "Go on, Lance. This is yore party." Lance unfolded his arms and disposed his big body on a bearskin covered lounge where he could take Belle's hand and pat it and playfully pinch a finger now and then. "To look at your hand, Belle, a fellow would swear that a blonde manicure girl comes here twice a week," he said idly. "Where is the schoolhouse going to be built? Why not put it just at the foot of the ridge, at Cottonwood Spring? That's out of sight of the road, and if the notice said 'Cottonwood Spring', folks would know where to head for. It's close to the line of your land, isn't it, dad? A yard--corral-size--fenced around the place would keep the cattle off the doorstep, and they could water there just the same. If we're going to do it, why not do it right?" "I guess we could get down there with a load," Tom assented easily. "I'd ruther have it on my land anyways." "Don't think, Tom Lorrigan, that we'd ever take it back from Mary Hope. No matter how Scotty acts up. But if they ever gave her the double-cross and got some one else to teach--why it might be nice to know it's our schoolhouse, on our land." Belle pulled her hand away from Lance and went over to the piano. "It's all done but the shingling," she said cheerfully. "Come on, Lance, see if you can sing 'Asleep in the Deep.' And then show me what you mean by saying you can yodel now better than when I licked you the time you and Duke chased the colt through the corral fence!" "All done but the shingling--and I ain't got 'em bought yet!" grumbled Tom, but was utterly disregarded in the sonorous chords of Belle's prelude to the song. CHAPTER ELEVEN LANCE RIDES AHEAD At fifteen minutes to four on a certain Tuesday afternoon, the first really pleasant day after the day of tearing, whooping wind that had blown Tom into the role of school bully, Lance loped out upon the trail that led past the Whipple shack a mile and a quarter farther on. Ostensibly his destination was the town of Jumpoff, although it was not the time of day when one usually started from the Devil's Tooth ranch to the post-office, with three unimportant letters as an excuse for the trip.