"Try to come yourself," said Faith Winton.

Angus, as he rode homeward, found himself dwelling on these words.

CHAPTER XX

AN ENEMY AT WORK

Spring merged into early summer, and Jean came home. Angus met her, and before they were clear of town he was undergoing a feminine cross-examination as to Faith Winton.

"Is she pretty, Angus?"

"You girls are all alike," he grinned. "That's what she asked about you."

"What did you say?"

"I said I hadn't noticed."

"You're a nice brother!"

"That's exactly what she said."

"Well, I like her for that. But is _she_ pretty?"

"Well, I don't know that a girl would call her pretty. She doesn't dress herself up like a French wedding and frizzle her hair and all that, but she's--she's--oh, darned if I know! She looks _clean_."

"Clean!" Miss Jean cried. "Well, I should hope so!"

"I mean clean-run, clean-strain, clean-built, like a good horse."

"My heavens, Angus, don't tell me she's built like a horse!"

"Don't be a little fool!" her brother growled. "She's better built than you are, young lady, and prettier, too."

"Oh, indeed!" Miss Jean sniffed. "Well, beauty doesn't run in our family. Now tell me about Turkey."

But Angus could not give her much information. Turkey was working around, here and there, but he never came to the ranch.

"Can't we get him to come back, Angus?"

"He can come when he likes."

"Yes, I know. But won't you ask him?"

Angus did not reply at once.

"No" he said at last, deliberately, "I won't. It's not the fire; I don't care for that. But we haven't got along well for a long time. It had to come to a show-down."

Out of her knowledge of her brother, Jean dropped the subject temporarily. She asked casually about Chetwood.

"Did he ever tell you why his remittances had stopped?"

"No. Of course I never asked. I got the idea that something had gone bust--that there was no more money coming in. He wasn't actually a remittance man, you know. He had some money of his own."

"It comes to the same thing--if he hasn't any now," said Miss Jean. "It will be a good thing for him to do some work."

She exhibited no special enthusiasm when she met the young man. Chetwood in overalls, with nailed boots, hard and brown, differed materially from the young idler of the summer before, but his cheery good nature was unchanged. Apparently the loss of his income or capital, or both, did not worry him.

The next day Jean rode over with Angus to make Faith Winton's acquaintance. Angus left them alone to be friends or otherwise.

Returning a couple of hours later, he found that there was no doubt about their mutual att.i.tude.

"Why, she's a dear!" Jean declared enthusiastically as they rode homeward. "Why didn't you tell me what she was like?"

"I tried to."

"You said she was clean-built, like a good horse. I told her--"

"What!" Angus cried in horror.

"Not that, of course. I told her you were a clam. She said from your description she thought I was a skinny, little girl in braids and short dresses."

"I never said anything about braids and dresses."

"Did you say I was skinny?" Miss Jean demanded.

"Well--"

"Then you did say it. Ye great, long, lummix--"

"h.e.l.lo!" said Angus. "That sounds like Mrs. Foley.

"'And so yez do be th' sister iv that great, long, lummix iv an Angus Mackay,'" said his sister in startling imitation of that lady. "'Yez do not favor him, bein' a good-lookin' slip iv a colleen.' What do you think of that, Angus?"

"That you're making the last part up," her brother grinned.

"Not a word, not a syllable. I told her I thought you were a big, fine-looking young man, and what do you think she said?"

"I'll bet she didn't agree with you."

"''Tis yer duty as a sisther to stand up f'r yer brother,' she told me, 'an' I am not mixin' it wid yez on th' question iv his shape. 'Tis true he's that big they was a good pair iv twins spoilt in him, and he has th' legs an' arrums an' back iv a rale man; but his face is that hard it wud make a foine map f'r a haythen G.o.d.'"

"Huh!" Angus snorted. "She ought to look at her own."

"Heavens, Angus! I believe you're vain."

"Vain--blazes!" Angus growled. "I suppose I ought to be tickled when an old she-mick says I look like a totem pole."