“What do you mean?”
“Just this.”
Cranny leaned over, and, with a degree of earnestness unusual to him, spoke in a low tone, while his father listened in silence.
“Well,” queried the lad, as he presently resumed his former position, “doesn’t that strike you as a scheme?”
Mr. Beaumont still made no answer, but continued to gaze in an abstracted sort of way at the moonlit distance, while Cranny, eager and impatient, eyed him sharply.
“Well, sir?” his son once more pleaded.
“There is a great deal in what you say,” admitted Mr. Beaumont. “Association with a lot of lively, energetic young chaps, such as Bob Somers and his friends, ought to do a world of good. But——” He paused.
“But what?” demanded Cranny.
“Circle T Ranch is a long way from here. I should feel uneasy about him. Life among the cowboys, and out on the range is full of danger at times; you know that, son.”
“Oh, I’d look after him, all right.”