"'I can't, eh?' says young John, and he pulls his gun and up and busts ole Demijohn over the head. Then, bein' a likely young fella, he shuts his jaw tight and fans it back to the ranch. The fo'man is some surprised to see him come ridin' up, whistlin' like he owned the works.

Fellas what's fired mostly looks for work some place else. But young John got the idee that he owed it to hisself to make good where he started as a cow-hand. 'I busted my ole friend Demijohn over the head,'

he says to the fo'man. 'We ain't friends no more.'

"The fo'man he grins. 'All right, Jack,' he says. 'But if I see him hangin' round the corrals ag'in, or in the bunk-house, you needn't to wait for me to tell you which way is north.'

"Well, young John had done a good job. 'Course ole Demijohn used to come sneakin' round in the moonlight, once in a spell, botherin' some of the boys, but he stayed clear of young John. And young John he took to ridin' straight and hard and 'tendin' to business. I ain't sayin' he ever got to be president or superintendent of a Sunday School, for this ain't no story-book yarn; but he always held a good job when he wanted it, and he worked for a good boss--which was hisself."

Lorry grinned as he turned to Shoop. "That ole Demijohn never got close enough to me to get busted on the head."

"Them hosses is strayin' down the creek," said Shoop, rising.

They turned and rode north, somewhat to Lorry's surprise. The trail was ragged and steep, and led from the mesa to the canon bottom of the White River. Before Lorry realized where they were, Jason loomed before them on the mesa below.

"She's a quick trail to town in summer," explained Shoop. "Snow hangs too heavy in the canon to ride it in winter."

At Jason they tied their horses, and entered the ranger's office. Lorry waited while Shoop talked with Torrance in the private office. Presently Shoop came to the door and gestured to Lorry.

"Mr. Shoop says he thinks you could qualify for the Service," Torrance said. "We will waive the matter of recommendations from the Starr people. But there is one thing I can't do. I can't hire a man who is wanted by the authorities. There's a deputy sheriff in town with a warrant for you. That is strictly your affair. If you can square yourself with the deputy, I'll put you to work."

"I'll go see what he wants," said Lorry.

"He wants you. Understand, you'll only jeopardize your chances by starting a row."

"They won't be a row," said Lorry.

When he returned he was accompanied by the deputy. Lorry took his stand without parley.

"I want to ask you folks a question, and then I'm through," he a.s.serted.

"Will you listen to what he says and what I say, and then say who is right?"

"That might not settle it," said Torrance. "But go ahead."

"Then all I got to say is, was I right or wrong when I turned that hobo loose and saved him from gettin' beat up by High Chin and the boys, and mebby strung up, afore they got through?"

"Morally you were right," said Torrance. "But you should have appealed to Sheriff Hardy to guard his prisoner."

"That's all right, Mr. Torrance. But suppose they wasn't time. And suppose,--now Buck's deputy is here to listen to it,--suppose I was to say that Buck is scared to death of High-Chin Bob. Everybody knows it."

The deputy flushed. He knew that Lorry spoke the truth.

Torrance turned to Shoop. "What do you think, Bud?"

Bud coughed and shrugged his heavy shoulders. "Bein' as I'm drug into this, I say the boy did a good job and he's right about Hardy, which you can tell him," he added, turning to the deputy.

"Then that's all I got to say," and Lorry pushed back his hat and rumpled his hair.

The deputy was not there to argue. He had been sent to get Lorry.

"I don't say he ain't right. But how about my job if I ride back to Stacey with nothin' to show for the trip but my expense card?"

"Buck Hardy isn't a fool," said Torrance.

"Oh, h.e.l.l!" said Lorry, turning to the deputy. "I'll go back with you.

I'm sick of jawin' about the right and the wrong and who's to blame. But I want to say in company that I'll go just as far as the county line of this county. You're south of your county. If you can get me across the line, I'll go on to Stacey."

Bud Shoop mopped his face with a bandanna. He was not overhot, but he wanted to hide the grin that spread over his broad countenance. He imagined he could see the deputy just about the time they arrived at the county line, and the mental picture seemed to amuse him.

"The idee is, the kid thinks he's right," said Shoop presently.

"Speakin' personal, I never monkey with a man when he thinks he's right--and he is."

"All I got to go by is the law," a.s.serted the deputy. "As for Adams here sayin' I won't run him in, I got orders to do it, and them orders goes."

"Adams has applied for a position in the Service," said Torrance.

"I ain't got anything against Lorry personal," said the deputy.

"Then just you ride back an' tell Buck Hardy that Bud Shoop says he'll stand responsible for Adams keepin' the peace in Jason County, same as I stood responsible for Buck oncet down in the Panhandle. Buck will remember, all right."

"Can't you give me a letter to Buck, explainin' things?" queried the deputy.

Bud glanced at Torrance. "I think we can," said the supervisor.

Lorry stepped to the door with the deputy. There was no personal feeling evident as they shook hands.

"You could tell ma to send down my clothes by stage," said Lorry.

Shoop and Torrance seemed to be enjoying themselves.

"I put in my say," said Bud, "'cause I kind of like the kid. And I reckon I saved that deputy a awful wallopin'. When a fella like young Adams talks pleasant and chokes his hat to death at the same time you can watch out for somethin' to fall."

"Do you think Adams would have had it out with him?"

"He'd 'a' rode along a spell, like he said. Mebby just this side of the county line he'd 'a' told the deputy which way was north. And if the deputy didn't take the hint, I reckon Adams would 'a' lit into him. I knowed Adams's daddy afore he married Annie Adams and went to live in Sonora."

"Then you knew that his father was Jim Waring?"

"I sure did. And I reckon I kep' somebody from gettin' a awful wallopin'. I was a kid oncet myself."

Chapter XVI

_Play_

The installation of Bud Shoop as supervisor of the White Mountain District was celebrated with an old-fashioned barbecue by the cattlemen and sheepmen leasing on the reserve. While John Torrance had always dealt fairly with them, the natives felt that he was more or less of a theorist in the matter of grazing-leases. Shoop was a practical cowman; one of themselves. Naturally there was some dissatisfaction expressed by disgruntled individuals who envied Shoop's good fortune. But this was overwhelmed by the tide of popular acclaim with which Shoop was hailed as a just administrator of their grazing-rights.