“I’ve got the glooms to-night, Pat. Feel sort of blue and sick at heart. It hit me pretty hard, reading that contract you drew up for Hawkins to brag about. It hurt to see him take that paper out of his pocket--paper that you had handled, Pat, words that you had typed. He’s not fit to touch it. He left it here--lying on the table when he beat it, scared silly. You were stubborn when you signed your name--you did that to spite Gary. Own up now, Pat; didn’t you do it just for spite--because I left without saying good-by? I wonder if it hurt you like it hurt me. I reckon not. Girls are so damned self-righteous--but then, they have the right. God knows, the best of men don’t amount to much. “There’s something I want to do for you; if I don’t do it before I leave here, it won’t be for want of trying. You’ll never make one dollar off this investment, just hanging on to it as it stands. This country’s full of loco, for one thing. The percentage of loss is higher than my dad would ever have stood for. Practically every horse you own has got a touch of loco. And Monty says the calf crop is never up to normal. It’s a losing game, in dollars and cents. A man could stay with it and make a bare living, I suppose. He could raise his own vegetables, put up enough hay to keep a horse or two, and manage to exist. But that would be the extent of it. And I don’t want to see you lose--you won’t, if I can help it. Having Hawkins in the deal may complicate matters--unless he quits. And, honey, I’ll make the quitting as good as possible for him. “I was sore when I started to write. But now I’m just sorry--and I love you, Pat. I wouldn’t have you different if I could. “Gary.” CHAPTER SEVENTEEN JAMES BLAINE HAWKINS FINDS HIS COURAGE--AND LOSES IT Gary had measured his man rather accurately, and his guess hit close to the mark. He slept late that morning, probably because he had lain awake until the morning star looked at him through the window. The sun was three hours high when he got up, and he loitered over his breakfast, gave Faith a severe talking to and fed her all the canned milk she would drink, so that she would not be teasing him for it later on when her insistence might be embarrassing. Faith was a methodical cat and a self-reliant cat. She loved her milk breakfast and her little talk with Gary afterward. Then she would head straight for the creek, cross it and go bounding away up the bluff. She always took the same direction, and Gary had sometimes wondered why. Of course, she hunted birds and kangaroo rats and mice; she was an expert huntress. Gary thought she must keep a private game preserve up on the bluff somewhere. However that might be, Faith was off for her daily prowl on the bluff and would not show up again at the cabin until noon or later.