``Mart's my brother,'' said little Buck.

``He was over to the Gap not long ago,
an' he come back mad as hops--'' He
stopped suddenly, and in such a way that
I turned my head, knowing that caution
had caught Buck.

``What about?''

``Oh, nothin','' said Buck carelessly;
``only he's been quar ever since. My sisters
says he's got a gal over thar, an'
he's a-pickin' off these rings more'n ever
now. He's going to win or bust a belly-
band.''

``Well, who's Dave Branham?''

Buck grinned. ``You jes axe my sister
Mollie. Thar she is.''

Before us was a white-framed house of
logs in the porch of which stood two stalwart,
good-looking girls. Could we stay
all night? We could--there was no
hesitation--and straight in we rode.

``Where's your father?'' Both girls
giggled, and one said, with frank unembarrassment: