"Well, America was made by rebels," said the other with a triumphant smile.
The minister put his hands on the boy's shoulders and looked into his eyes as David might have done to his wayward son.
"Well, God bless you for a fine, glorious, dangerous rebel."
The sun was up, a new day was born, all things seemed possible as Big Bill hove into sight.
"Say, Boss," he drawled; "McShay's out here with the toughest looking gang of ruffians——"
"Let 'em in, Bill," cried Hal joyously, his eyes dancing with the excitement of his conflict with McCloud.
"Turn 'em loose on the ranch?" said the foreman doubtfully. "That outfit? Gee whiz!"
"May need 'em, Bill."
"Most worse'n Injins," grumbled the old man as he went away, doubt, hesitation, protest in the stoop and shrug of his huge bulk.
Bill's advent had brought them both back to earth, to the business in hand.