“On the contrary, I’m apt to take my responsibilities too much to heart if I don’t watch myself,” he defended. “Do you consider a state of responsibility one to strive for?” Then, as she nodded, “Hereafter I’ll track down responsibilities like a duck collects Junebugs, and assume one after the next.” “I’ve raised Bart from a baby,” she said. “And I don’t want to see him go over to the wild bunch. He likes you a lot. Use that influence to steady him, won’t you, instead of the other way?” “Just what is the main thing you want Bart to stay clear of?” he asked. “I want him to run straight,” she said. Carver rose to take his leave, his departure hastened by the sight of a horseman through the trees far down the bottoms. And the rider was not Bart. He had no desire to meet Noll Lassiter during his first real visit with the girl, and he somehow knew the identity of the man who approached. “Maybe I can do Bart a trifle of good in spots,” he said, as he stood before her. “And I’ll guarantee not to do him any great amount of harm.” “Thanks,” she said, rising to face him and extending her hand. “I knew you’d do it.” Carver retained the hand and leaned to kiss her as she stood looking up at him. The girl stepped back and studied him, evidencing no annoyance but seeming rather to try to determine the thought which had occasioned the act and searching for a possible trace of disrespect. Carver met her eyes fairly. “You oughtn’t to have smiled just at that particular moment,” he said. “You see, you are irresponsible,” she pointed out. “That’s exactly what Bart would have done. You yield to any passing whim.” “That wasn’t any passing whim,” he corrected. “It was one powerful impulse; and it’s permanent--not passing. It’s related to to-day and five weeks ago Tuesday, and I’m hoping it’s related to to-morrow.” She disregarded this except for an almost imperceptible shake of her head. “But you will remember about Bart,” she urged. “I’ll try and collect all Bart’s loose ends and shape him up into one solid pattern of propriety,” he promised. “You won’t hardly know him for the same party after I’ve worked him over.” He swung to the saddle. “But I’ll have to put in considerable time over here conferring with you if we’re going to make a success out of Bart.” He turned his horse to leave but the approaching rider had hastened through the last belt of trees and he now held up a hand and signalled Carver to wait. Lassiter pulled up his horse abruptly as he discovered Carver’s identity. “I thought it was Wellman,” he stated surlily. “Who asked you here? This is a little off your range.” “I travel on a roving permit,” Carver said. He explored his pockets as if seeking the document and an expression of mock concern overspread his face. “I declare, I must have mislaid it somehow. But I believe I showed it to you once before; and anyway, I’m going now.”