"What do you mean by cutting into my dam-site without my permission?" Farrel yelled and drove straight at the contractor. "Hey, there, old settler! Mike Farrel, alive and kicking!" He left the saddle while the pinto was still at a gallop, landed on his feet in front of Bill Conway and took that astounded old disciple of dump-wagon and scraper in a bearlike embrace. "Miguel! You young scoundrel!" Conway yelled, and forthwith he beat Farrel between the shoulder-blades with a horny old fist and cursed him lovingly. "Cut out the profanity, Mr. Conway," Don Mike warned him. "Some ladies are about due on the job." "When'd you light in the Palomar, boy? Gimme your hand. What the--say, ain't it a pity the old man couldn't have lasted until you got back? Ain't it, now, son?" "A very great pity, Mr. Conway. I got home last night." "Boy, I'm glad to see you. Say, you ran into surprises, didn't you?" he added, lowering his voice confidentially. "Rather. But, then, so did the other fellow. In fact, sir, a very pleasant time was had by all. By the way, I hope you're not deluding yourself with the belief that I'm going to pay you for building this dam." "By Judas priest," the alert old contractor roared, "you certainly do file a bill of complications! I'll have to see Parker about this right away--why, here he is now." The Parkers had followed more decorously than had Farrel; nevertheless, they had arrived in more or less of a hurry. John Parker rode directly to Conway and Farrel. "Well, Mr. Conway," he shouted pleasantly, "the lost sheep is found again." "Whereat there is more rejoicing in San Marcos County than there will be over the return of some other sheep--and a few goats--I know of. How do you do, Mr. Parker?" Conway extended his hand, and, as Kay and her mother rode up, Farrel begged their permission to present him to them. Followed the usual commonplaces of introduction, which Farrel presently interrupted. "Well, you confounded old ditch-digger! How about you?" "Still making little rocks out of big ones, son. Say, Mr. Parker, how do we stack up on this contract, now that Little Boy Blue is back on the Palomar, blowing his horn?" Parker strove gallantly to work up a cheerful grin. "Oh, he's put a handful of emery dust in my bearings, confound him, Mr. Conway! It begins to look as if I had leaped before looking." "Very reprehensible habit, Mr. Parker. Well--I'm getting so old and worthless nowadays that I make it a point to look before I leap. Mike, my son, do you happen to be underwriting this contract?" Don Mike looked serious. He pursed his lips, arched his brows, drew some bills and small coins from his pocket, and carefully counted them.