"I reckon the women folks is. You seem to be in a hurry, pardner."
"I am. I must hurry."
Wondering at the haste of the disreputable looking youngster, the sheepman watched him until he had gotten out of sight. Finding the footing good and encouraged by the knowledge that he had but two miles to go, the lad dropped into a lope which he kept up until the white side of the Simms ranch buildings reflected back the morning sun just ahead of him.
Tads legs almost collapsed under him as he staggered into the yard and asked a boy whom he saw there, for Mrs. Simms.
He was directed by a wave of the hand to a near-by door, on which
Tad rapped insistently.
"I wish to see Mrs. Simms, please," he said to the servant, who responded to his knock.
"I am Mrs. Simms. What is it you wish?" answered a voice somewhere in the room. It was a pleasant voice, reminding Tad much of his mother's, and a sense of restfulness possessed him almost at once. He felt almost as if he were at home again.
"I would like to speak with you, alone, please."
"Who are you?"
"I am Tad Butler from Missouri. I——"