indifference. "All right," he said carelessly; "I'll see what can be
done. But are you quite sure you are fit to go home alone? Shall I
accompany you?" As McKinstry waived the suggestion with a gesture, he
added lightly, as if to conclude the interview, "I'll report progress to
you from time to time, if you like."

"To ME," emphasized McKinstry; "not over THAR," indicating the ranch.
"But p'rhaps you wouldn't mind my ridin' by and lookin' in at the
school-room winder onct in a while? Ah--you WOULD," he added, with the
first deepening of color he had shown. "Well, never mind."

"You see it might distract the children from their lessons," explained
the master gently, who had however contemplated with some concern the
infinite delight which a glimpse of McKinstry's fiery and fatuous face
at the window would awaken in Johnny Filgee's infant breast.

"Well, no matter!" returned McKinstry slowly. "Ye don't keer, I s'pose,
to come over to the hotel and take suthin'? A julep or a smash?"

"I shouldn't think of keeping you a moment longer from Mrs. McKinstry,"
said the master, looking at his companion's wounded hand. "Thank you all
the same. Good-by."

They shook hands, McKinstry transferring his rifle to the hollow of his
elbow to offer his unwounded left. The master watched him slowly resume
his way towards the ranch. Then with a half uneasy and half pleasurable
sense that he had taken some step whose consequences were more important
than he would at present understand, he turned in the opposite direction
to the school-house. He was so preoccupied that it was not until he had
nearly reached it that he remembered Uncle Ben. With an odd recollection