At that moment Mrs. Manley came to the door, saw Teddy and Roy seated on the porch steps, and called to them. “Boys,” she said, “will you come in a minute? Your father wants to see you.” “And so do I,” a girl’s voice added. Belle Ada, the sister of Roy and Teddy, walked out on the porch. “Where’s that new whip you promised me, Teddy? Got it?” “Haven’t had time yet, Belle,” Teddy answered. “Have it to-morrow sure. I’m going in to town then, and I’ll stop by and pick it up. It ought to be at the express office by now. I ordered it last week.” “Oh, you’ll forget it,” Belle declared, and then laughed. Belle was twelve years old, with dark hair and eyes. In disposition she was a great deal like Teddy--happy-go-lucky, always ready for fun. “You’d better tie a string around your finger. Or, better still, around your toe. You’re liable to miss it on your finger, and you stub your toe so often that you can’t miss it there.” “Aw, take a rest,” and Teddy grinned. “Come on, Roy, we’ll hop in and see dad. Where is he, Mother?” “In his room. I think it’s about Gus that he wants to talk to you. I’m so sorry that happened, boys! I told your father that he should go more slowly. He was so worked up over Mr. Trummer’s visit that he wasn’t quite himself. I tried to calm him as much as I could, and now I think he regrets that he acted so hastily. But you go in and let him tell you himself.” Mr. Manley was seated in a chair in his room, with his corncob pipe, unlit, between his teeth. This was always a sign of mental uneasiness with him. When smoke came from the pipe, all was well. When it reposed in his mouth cold and dead, there was usually something up. “Want us, Dad?” Teddy asked. “Yes. Want to make talk. Come in. Shut the door. Either one of you see Gus?” “He’s gone, Dad,” Roy answered. “Teddy, you saw him go, didn’t you?” “Yes, I did. He rode away with a bag on his saddle about two hours ago. He owned his own horse, didn’t he, Dad?” “Yes! Gus came to me with a pony, saddle, and nothin’ else, three years ago. Wanted a job. I gave it to him. So he’s gone, eh?” “Afraid so, Dad. Didn’t you tell him to clear out?” “I did, and I’m sorry now that I did it. Your mother’s been talkin’ to me, and, as usual, she’s made me see the error of my ways. I was too fast. Jake Trummer got me all worked up. He used to be my best friend, next to Pete Ball. Well, it’s too late now, I guess. As for Joe Marino, I don’t care when he leaves. We never should have taken him. He didn’t know much about punchin’, and the first day he was here I kind of got set against him. He’s gone, too, I suppose?” “No, he hasn’t,” Teddy declared. “I saw him at the bunk-house talkin’ to Pop Burns a little while ago. Pop didn’t seem to care much about listening. He said something sharp and turned away. Guess The Pup must have been beefing about you throwing him out.”