Lounsbury arose, as if to go, and for the first time since his entrance looked squarely at Lancaster. "This is what I think:" he answered, "in Dakota, if a man jumps land that hasn't been improved, all he's got to do is to hang on to it; don't have to rassle with any fine points of law. This far west of stuffed chairs, there's a whole lot in public sentiment." He crossed the room and picked up coat and cap. "Of course," added David Bond, "following the law would strengthen the case." "Of course." The section-boss adjusted his crutches and stood up. "You-all seem t' be settlin' it 'thout any o' my lip," he said, and laughed mockingly. "We have your interests at heart," replied the storekeeper. Lancaster ground his teeth. Now that all danger was past, he felt no gratitude for the routing of Matthews and the strategy at The Trooper's Delight. He could only feel that his authority in his own home was threatened. He turned his back. Lounsbury glanced at the girls. They were watching their father appealingly. "I _should_ say," went on Lounsbury, "that we have the interests of your daughters at heart." His hand reached for the latch. "Mr. Lounsbury!" Dallas made a swift step toward him. Now, the section-boss came about. Lounsbury was reminded of the day on the plowed strip. For he saw that Lancaster was all a-tremble, and panting as if spent with a hard run. "M' gal!" he cried sternly. Dallas stepped back and touched her father's arm. And her remonstrance was the remonstrance of that other day. "No, no, dad," she cautioned in a low voice; "no, no." Lancaster's breast heaved. He swallowed with an effort, and scowled from one to another of the four. David Bond came forward, addressing Lounsbury. "Will you tell me your name?" he asked. "I want to remember you. You are not a soldier. Do you belong at Clark's----" "Did y' size him up fer a cow-punch?" broke in Lancaster. "Huh! Wal, _Ah_ never did." Lounsbury's face dyed to a deep scarlet. "No?" he said. "And why?" Again the section-boss gave a shrill, mocking laugh. "Too fat an' too mouthy," he answered. For an instant Lounsbury wavered. In that instant the deep scarlet faded, his eyes opened, his nostrils spread. "Pa! pa!" It was Marylyn, half-weeping. Lounsbury's cool voice cleared the air. "I'm a Bismarck man," he said to the evangelist. "I've got a store there. My name is John Lounsbury." He held out his hand to Dallas. She advanced again and took it. "Oh, thank you! thank you!" she breathed. "'Bismarck man.'" It was Lancaster once more. "Wal, w'y the devil don' y' stay thar?" Lounsbury took no notice of him. "I'll be hoofing it," he said to Dallas. "But if I can do anything--you understand." And went out.