“Y’u have a very persistent cousin, Mr. Bannister,” said McWilliams, coming forward from the alcove with shining eyes. “And I must say he’s game. Did y’u ever hear the like? Come butting in here as cool as if he hadn’t a thing to do but sing out orders like he was in his own home. He was that easy.” “It seems to me that a little of the praise is due Lieutenant Beecher. If he hadn’t dealt so competently with the situation murder would have been done. Did you learn your boxing at the Academy, Lieutenant?” Helen asked, trying to treat the situation lightly in spite of her hammering heart. “I was the champion middleweight of our class,” Beecher could not help saying boyishly, with another of his blushes. “I can easily believe it,” returned Helen. “I wish y’u would teach me how to double up a man so prompt and immediate,” said the admiring foreman. “I expect I’m under particular obligations to that straight right to the chin, Lieutenant,” chimed in the sheepman. “The fact is that I don’t seem to be able to get out anything except thanks these days. I ought to send my cousin a letter thanking _him_ for giving me a chance to owe so much kindness to so many people.” “Your cousin?” repeated the uncomprehending officer. “This desperado, Bannister, is my cousin,” answered the sheepman gravely. “But if he was your cousin, why should he want—to kill you?” “That’s a long story, Lieutenant. Will y’u hear it now?” “If you feel strong enough to tell it.” “Oh, I’m strong enough.” He glanced at Helen. “Perhaps we had better not tire Miss Messiter with it. If y’u’ll come to my room—” “I should like, above all things, to hear it again,” interrupted that young woman promptly. For the man she loved had just come back to her from the brink of the grave and she was still reluctant to let him out of her sight. So Ned Bannister told his story once more, and out of the alcove came the happy foreman and Nora to listen to the tale. While he told it his sweetheart’s contented eyes were on him. The excitement of the night burnt pleasantly in her veins, for out of the nettle danger she had plucked safety for her sheepman. CHAPTER XX. TWO CASES OF DISCIPLINE The Fourth of July celebration at Gimlet Butte had been a thing of the past for four days and the Lazy D had fallen back into the routine of ranch life. The riders were discussing supper and the continued absence of Reddy when that young man drew back the flap and joined them. He stood near the doorway and grinned with embarrassed guilt at the assembled company. “I reckon I got too much Fourth of July at Gimlet Butte, boys. That’s how come I to be onpunctual getting back.” There was a long silence, during which those at the table looked at him with an expressionless gravity that did not seem to veil an unduly warm welcome. “Hello, Mac! Hello, boys! I just got back,” he further contributed.