While making up his mind, he had not acted hastily. He had consulted the spirits, with Mrs. Emmeline Taylor and her ouija board as intermediary. "Starlight" had thought highly of the undertaking, and Mrs. Taylor, knowing that Miss Maggie's hope chest was full to overflowing, encouraged it. There had been a time when bankers, railroad and other magnates had been in her dreams for her daughter, and a mere rancher like Teeters was unthinkable, but with the passing of the years she had modified her ambitions somewhat. So she had said benignly, patting his shoulder: "The angels will look after you, as they have after me. Don't be afraid, Clarence." It had occurred to Clarence that the not inconsiderable herd of Herefords Mr. Taylor had left behind him at "Happy Wigwam" might have had as much to do with Mrs. Taylor's feeling of security as the guardianship of the angels, but he answered merely, though somewhat cryptically: "Even if I lose my money it won't cost me nothin'--I worked for it." Teeters glanced at the clock, yawned as he saw that the hands pointed to half past seven, and unhooked his heels from the rung of the chair preparatory to retiring. A horse snorted, and the sound of hoofs on the frozen dooryard brought Teeters to attention. What honest person could be out jamming around this time of night, he wondered. In preparation for callers he reached for his cartridge belt and holster that hung on a nail and laid them on the table. The door opened and a stranger entered, blinking. The fringe of icicles hanging from his moustache looked like the contrivance to curtail the activities of cows given to breaking and entering. "I seen you through the winder," he said apologetically. "I heard your horse whinner," Teeters replied, politely, rising. "This banany belt's gittin' colder every winter." The stranger broke off an icicle and laid it on the stove to hear it sizzle. "I was jest fixin' to turn in," Teeters hinted. "Last night I didn't sleep good. I tossed and thrashed around until half-past eight 'fore I closed my eyes." "I won't keep you up, then. I come over on business. Bowers's my name. I'm a-workin' for Miss Prentice. I'm a sheepherder myself by perfession." Teeters received the announcement with equanimity, so he continued: "Along about two o'clock this afternoon I got an idea that nigh knocked me over. I bedded my sheep early and took a chance on leavin' them, seein' as it was on her account I wanted to talk to you. You're a friend of her'n, ain't you?" "To the end of the road," Teeters replied soberly. Bowers nodded. "So somebody told me. Are you goin' to town anyways soon?" "To-morrow." "Good! Will you take a message to Lingle?" Teeters assented.