Stella had possession of it, and had taken the bed down and banished it until after the holidays. Within this room certain mysterious things were going on, and whenever Stella or Bud left it, the door was always locked behind them. Not all the teasing of Ben and Kit, nor their efforts to get past the door, were successful in finding out what was going on. Along toward evening, Bud, who had not met Farnsworth, or Dickson, as he was known to Bubbly Well, came across that young man pacing up and down the veranda alone. When Bud saw him he stopped as if shot, took a long look, and then passed on. But he set out to find Ted, which he did at last at the corral. "See here, Ted," said the golden-haired cow-puncher, "whar did yer pick up ther maverick what's up at ther house? I hear he come with yer." "I met him on the road, and he wanted to know if the major would put him up for the night, and I told him I thought he would be welcome," answered Ted. "Of course he'd be welcome. Ther major would welcome a yaller dog with ther mange, out in this yere lonely place. But say, boy, does yer know what yer brought?" "Why? I don't understand you exactly, I'm afraid." "Yes, yer do. Who is that feller? He's not Dickson. Who is he?" "Search me." "That's what I'm tryin' ter do, an' if yer don't give up peaceful, I'm goin' through yer, minute." "Do you know who he is?" "I've got my suspicions. I see a feller up to Phoenix what's ther dead ringer fer him, an' his name wasn't Dickson then." "What was it?" "It was Fancy Farnsworth." "I guess you're on, Bud. But Mr. Farnsworth asked me to keep it dark, and, as it is Christmas, I consented to do so. Remember, this is the time for brotherly love and peace toward all men. It wasn't much to do, and I invented the name of Dickson for him myself. What's the matter?" "Oh, nothin', if yer like ter bring cattle like that ter our Chrismus festivities. Fer me, I wouldn't." "I guess he's not as bad as that." "He's worse." "Explain." "Well, if yer don't know, I will, an' let yer chew on it, an' see if yer want ter take any chances on him. Now, Farnsworth ain't his real name, neither. D'y'ever hear tell o' ther Somber Pass massacree, where a tenderfoot immigrant named Spooner an' his family was killed, an' their wagons an' horses, an' a pile o' money what Spooner had brought with him ter start a cattle ranch an' buy stock with, wuz taken? D'y'ever hear tell o' that?" "Sure. It's part of the history of the Territory." "D'y'ever hear any suspicions cast upon nobody?" "I never did. That is, I never heard any one specifically charged with the crime. Did you?" "I did, an' his other name was Farnsworth, only that wasn't ther name he went by at that time. He's ther feller who was p'inted out ter me as ther devil what led ther band o' cutthroats what killed ther Spooner family fer a measly few thousands o' dollars. That's what I meant if yer knew who yer was bringin' ter yer happy home."