"You're a bad bunch up in here," he said, "you and Carlson and Hall. If there's any more killin' and fightin' up this way I'll come in and clean you all out. Where did you say that feller was at?" Mackenzie told him again, and he rode off to take a look at Reid, and put what caution into his ear he had a mind to give. Mackenzie saw him blend into the gloom of early morning with a feeling of self-felicitation on his act of yesterday. He was inspired yesterday when he took Joan under his protection and laid claim to her in his own right. CHAPTER XVI REID BEGINS HIS PLAY Dad Frazer came back after five days, diminished in facial outline on account of having submitted his stubble beard to the barber at Four Corners. In reverse of all speculation on Mackenzie's part, this operation did not improve the old man's appearance. Dad's face was one of the kind that are built to carry a beard; without it his weaknesses were too apparent to the appraising eye. Dad made glowing report of his success with the widow at Four Corners. Preliminaries were smoothed; he had left the widow wearing his ring. "We'll jump the broomstick in about a month from now," Dad said, full of satisfaction for his business stroke. "I aim to settle down and quit my roamin', John." "And your marrying, too, I hope, you old rascal!" "Yes, this one will be my last, I reckon. I don't mind, though; I've had doin's enough with women in my day." "Is she a good looker, Dad?" "Well, I've seen purtier ones and I've seen uglier ones, John. No, she ain't what you might call stylish, I guess, but she's all right for me. She's a little off in one leg, but not enough to hurt." "That's a slight blemish in a lady with money in the bank, Dad." "I look at it that way, on the sensible side. Good looks is all right in a woman, but that ain't all a man needs to make him easy in his mind. Well, she did lose the sight of her left eye when she was a girl, but she can see a dollar with the other one further than I can see a wagon wheel." "No gentleman would stop at the small trifle of an eye. What else, Dad?" "Nothing else, only she's carryin' a little more meat right now than a woman likes to pack around in hot weather. I don't mind that; you know, I like mine fat; you can't get 'em too fat for me." "I've heard you say so. How much does she weigh?" "Well, I guess close to three hundred, John. If she was taller, it wouldn't show so much on her--she can walk under my arm. But it's surprisin' how that woman can git around after them sheep!" Dad added this hopefully, as if bound to append some redeeming trait to all her physical defects. "How many does she own?"