"I guess that is just what it is," grinned Phil.

"Well,--we've got to see this little woman right, and incidentally give Sol Hanson the biggest fright he ever got in his natural.

"Miss--Miss Jornsen,--there's a mistake somewhere. My name is Jim Langford, and that is my photograph; but I never sent it to you. We happen to know Sol Hanson though. He lives here all right. This gentleman works with him.

"Sol is a Swede?"

"Yes,--yes!" put in Betty, "same as I am."

"I'm thinking he was afraid he wasn't good-looking enough and he was scared to take chances, so he sent you my photo instead of one of his own," he went on, without even a blush of conceit.

"And--and he ain't such a good-looker as you?" she queried.

"Well,--well, of course, tastes differ. You might like him fine," he grinned, with becoming modesty.

"But he's got a house, and fruit trees, and a blacksmith shop, and he can work?" she asked.

"You bet! He's well fixed. Come along and we'll see him now. He will never be able to resist you."

Betty perked up at the compliment.

Then nervously and timidly she set herself to rights, finally consenting to allow Jim and Phil to escort her to the smithy.

"You wait here!" instructed Jim at the corner of the block. "We'll go and break the news to Sol. We'll come back for you.

"Give me that picture, though. I have a word to say in his ear about that."

Betty opened her bag, gazed fondly on Jim's photo, then at him, before she slowly delivered it up.

Phil went into the smithy, hung up his coat, put on his ap.r.o.n and started in to work.

Jim followed him a few minutes later.

Sol Hanson was busy shoeing a horse. Jim went over to him.

"Here, Sol," he cried, "come over and see this."

The good-natured big fellow stopped his work and followed Jim to the dust-begrimed window.

Jim stuck the photograph under Sol's nose.

"Do you know who that is?"

"Ya,--sure thing! You bet! Dam-good picture too, Jim!" he commented, with an innocence well a.s.sumed.

"Yes,--you certainly seem to like it. I can't say it is very like you, you son-of-a-gun."

"Me? No! Pretty like you though, Jim," Sol stammered.

"Look here, you big lump of humanity;--what the devil do you mean by sending my photo all over the country and saying it is yours?"

"Me?--I ain't--I didn't--I----"

"Cut it out, you big bluffer! You couldn't lie decently to save your neck."

Sol laughed at last.

"You not been goin' for to get mad, Jim. Just a little joke I have on some girl. See!"

"Oh,--it was! Darned good joke for me--and you too!"

"Ya!--you see I find it one day on floor here. You drop it some time.

I ain't much of a swell looker for girls. All girls like face like yours. I get Vancouver man make me twelve pictures all same as this one. I send them just for little joke to girls I write to some time."

Jim clutched at his own hair despairingly, as Phil furiously worked the bellows in his mirth.

"Great jumping Caesar! Twelve! Are you going to start a harem?"

"Ach, no! Just have a little fun,--that's all. You don't go and been for to get mad at that."

"Great fun! Great joke!" commented Jim, "but you've put your foot in it this time, old c.o.c.k. One of these women is in town, looking for your scalp. She is asking everybody in Vernock where Sol Hanson hangs out."

Sol's big face grew a shade paler and his jaw dropped. He became excited.

"You--you didn't been for to tell her,--Jim?"

"Sure I did! Why not? You're going to marry her,--aren't you? She's telling everybody that."

Sol, who had been standing with his big hands spread on his leather ap.r.o.n and his mouth agape, now showed signs of anxiety.

"But,--I--I--Which one is it, Jim? What she call herself?"

"Oh,--there are several, you blooming Mormon?"

Sol ran to his coat and pulled a bundle of letters and miscellaneous photographs from the pocket. He handed them to Jim.

"Look at them," he cried in excitement. "Tell me quick which one come."

He mopped the perspiration from his brow. "By h.e.l.l!--I guess I been got in a bad fix this time for sure."

Jim slowly went over the doc.u.ments and photographs.

"No! No! No! No!" he exclaimed, as he handed them back to Sol one by one.

"Not one,--by gosh, Jim! That pretty funny. Must be one, though. Sure you look at every one?"

"She's not there, Sol. Trot out the others, old man."