"Mr. Weaver," reproached Phyllis, flushing.
But the reference did not embarrass the nester in the least. He laughed hardily, meeting his rival eye to eye. "The boys did have notions, but I expect maybe they have got over them."
"Nothing like being hopeful. Now I'd back my show against yours every day in the week."
The girl handed his revolver back to Weaver, after first asking a question of the homesteader with her eyes.
"Oh, I get my hardware back, do I?" Buck grinned.
Keller brought his horse round from back of Flat Rock, where it had been picketed. They started at once, cutting across the plain to a flat butte, which thrust itself out from the hills into the valley. Two hours of steady travel brought them to the butte, behind which lay Seven Mile ranch.
At the first glimpse of the roofs shining in the golden sunlight Phyllis gave a cry of delight.
"Home again. I wonder whether Father's here."
"I wonder," echoed Weaver grimly.
"That little fellow riding into the corral is one of my scholars," she told them.