took twenty-four hours to figure out your explanation. I want to tell
you, too, that it don't make any hit with me that you're trying to throw
the blame on a boy I've known all my life."

"Who happens to be a brother of Miss Sanderson," Keller let himself
suggest.

Yeager flushed. "That ain't the point."

"The point is that I'm trying to clear this boy, and I want your help."

"Looks to me like you want to clear yourself."

"If I prove to you that I'm not a rustler, will you padlock your tongue
and help me clear young Sanderson?"

"I sure will--if you prove it to my satisfaction."

Keller drew from his pocket the two letters he had just received. "Read
these."

When he had read, Yeager handed them back, and offered his hand. "That
clears you, seh. Truth is, I never was satisfied you was a rustler. My
mind was satisfied; but, durn it, you didn't _look_ like a waddy. It's
lucky I hadn't spoke to the boys yet."

"I want to keep this quiet," the Bear Creek settler explained.

"Sure. I'm a clam, and at your service, seh."