CHAPTER IV

STACKING THE CARDS

Bat straddled the slab and lighted his pipe.

"Old man been giving you some good advice?"

"I don't know whether you'd call it good or not. Let's heap the logs
on, Brydges, and make the shadows dance."

Brydges did some hard thinking and let the Ranger do the heaping.

"Sort of razzle-dazzler, MacDonald's daughter; she's a winner; but you
can't get at her! Sort of feel when she's talking to you as if her
other self was 'way down East. Wonder what the old curmudgeon brought
her back here for? If she'd let down her high airs a peg, she'd have
every fellow in the Valley on a string. She could have Moyese's scalp
now if she wanted it--all that's left of it?"

"You can bunk inside! I'll take the hammock." Wayland emerged from
the cabin trailing a gray blanket and a lynx skin robe. Bat continued
to emit smoke in puffs and curls and wreaths at the top of the trees.

"How many acres do you patrol, Dickie?"

"About a hundred-thousand."

"Is that all? How many horses does the Govment allow?"