late afternoon. Bear Creek ran dull and dark in the shadow, and Mount
Discovery was robed in blue to the very edge of its shining crown of
snow. In this dimmer, richer light the Cornish ranch had never seemed so
desirable to Vance. It was not a ranch; it was a little kingdom. And
Vance was the dispossessed heir.

He knew that he was being watched, however, and all that evening he was
at his best. At the dinner table he guided the talk so that Terence Colby
was the lion of the conversation. Afterward, when he was packing his
things in his room for his journey of the next day, he was careful to
sing at the top of his voice. He reaped a reward for this cautious
acting, for the next morning, when he climbed into the buckboard that was
to take him down the Blue Mountain road and over to the railroad, his
sister came down the steps and stood beside the wagon.

"You _will_ come back for the birthday party, Vance?" she pleaded.

"You want me to?"

"You were with me when I got Terry. In fact, you got him for me. And I
want you to be here when he steps into his own."

In this he found enough to keep him thoughtful all the way to the
railroad while the buckskins grunted up the grade and then spun away down
the long slope beyond. It was one of those little ironies of fate that he
should have picked up the very man who was to disinherit him some twenty-
four years later.

He carried no grudge against Elizabeth, but he certainly retained no
tenderness. Hereafter he would act his part as well as he could to