"Why, that crime was committed five years ago, and Dickson or Farnsworth, as he calls himself, was too young then to be engaged in anything of that sort." "He looks young, but he ain't. He's ther feller. Look out fer him, Ted." "Don't you tip off who he is, Bud. I brought him here because it is Christmas, and he's going to stay. He's going to get a square deal here if I have to fight for him." "Oh, I won't say nothin', but I'd like ter slip a pair o' handcuffs onto them smooth, white wrists o' hisn, jest ther same. But why is he here? What's he doin' in this part o' ther country?" "I don't know, Bud. He asked me when he met me and knew who I was if I had heard the news about him. I hadn't, and told him so, but he did not volunteer any information on the subject." "Whar did he come from? Did he tell you?" "Yes, he said he had come from Rodeo; starting early this morning." "Then look fer a big piece o' news from Rodeo right soon." "How do you know?" "I know this, if Farnsworth left Rodeo airly this mornin' thar was some good reason fer it. I reckon it's a killin'. But he's a chump ter stop off here. If anything has been pulled off at Rodeo, ther whole country will be out after him, fer Fancy, so called fer his passion fer good clothes an' high-colored poker chips, they don't like none too well, he's too almighty quick an' slick with his six-shooter, hez got a list o' killin's ter his credit as long as yer arm." "Well, he's here; let's forget it until after breakfast. But as long as he's here as a guest, he gets all the protection I can give him." Supper that night was a very merry function in the Bubbly Well ranch house, full of mysterious whisperings and jokes which were only understood by two or three at a time. Mr. Dickson, as the latest guest, occupied a seat at the left hand of the host, and Ted again noticed the remarkable resemblance between the two, although it did not seem to be apparent to the others; at least, no one mentioned it. After supper was over, and the Chinese cook and waiter had cleared the room, the major brought out a violin, and asked if any one could play it. "Clay kin jest make a fiddle sing!" shouted Bud, dragging the modest Kentuckian forward. There was a piano in the living room, and Stella and Clay went to it, and while Clay played the violin, Stella accompanied him. Lively airs were demanded, and the ranch house fairly rang with the clapping of feet as Bud and Carl and Kit danced reels and jigs and cake walks, and the laughter of the boys at Bud's jokes and Carl's lingual mistakes. But at last they became tired of music. It was ten o'clock, and the major disappeared for a few minutes, then entered, leading the way for the two Chinamen, who bore between them baskets of rosy apples, dishes of nuts and raisins and candies, and pitchers of cider.