"They probably expect to win out through their very daring," argued Fitzrapp. "What could be bolder than taking up a ranchhold on the very edge of our range, the nearest section that's for sale? That fellow Childress has nerve enough for anything. Signed that round-robin asking the Mounted to send a patrol here—signed it, as I told you without crinkling an eyebrow."
"What a pity the man isn't honest, Fitzrapp," remarked the pioneer. "It's just his sort of nerve, ridden on a straight track, that makes for big success. And what's the reward for all this criminal activity? A few thousand easy dollars that have to be divided seven ways, and in the end the surety of being caught either by a parcel of lead or a tie-rope strangle or years in prison. God knows I'm no saint any more than I am a preacher, Thomas, but that honesty-the-best policy lingo is not foolish chatter. Someway I can't believe Childress a crook. That day riding in from the Whitefoot he looked and talked too sensibly to follow any such fool trail as rustling."
"I've seen more of him than you have, Major," said Fitzrapp. "I only wonder he hasn't applied for board at the Rafter A or tried to hire on as a contract buster."
Although the ranch manager undoubtedly did not intend it to be anything of the sort, this last item of surprise was quite a compliment. A "contract buster" is an expert rider who undertakes the breaking of horses at so much a head, and signs off all employer's liability before he draws his first cinch.
"I'm more surprised," Fitzrapp continued, "that he's made such an impression upon our wonderful Ethel. I happen to know on undoubted authority—"
"Dunc O'Hara?" cut in the major.
Fitzrapp nodded. "I happen to know that she's seen him alone since he came into the Fire Weed. And the other day over at Gallegher's she actually begged that he make his next social call in the direction of the Rafter A."
"Jealous again, Tom," said the handsome old major with a smile. "When you're as old as I am you'll have learned that there's no accounting for the freaks of winds, wives or widows."
They rode on in silence, increasing their speed as they entered the draw. They came up to the half-finished cabin at a lope, to find Childress in the act of finishing his breakfast. Neither surprise nor restraint showed in his greeting, although he looked mildly curious.
"You're riding early this morning, Major MacDonald," he remarked, when they had declined his invitation to dismount.