corners, fixed on the far snowy gleam of Lost Chief Range.
"Hope and faith," he repeated softly.
There was a shout from without. "O, you Doug!" and Charleton rode up at a gallop. He stopped before the open door. "I've been trailing you for two hours. I got three horses penned up in a draw and I need your help. Hello, Fowler! What the devil are you doing out here?"
"Come in and have a bite of grub, Falkner," exclaimed the preacher.
"Don't care if I do!" Charleton threw a weary leg across the saddle and dismounted. Douglas, who had finished his meal, returned to the bunk and Charleton took his place.
"Kind of funny to find you and Doug eating together," said Charleton.
"He should have given me a swift kick," agreed Douglas. "Instead, he fed me."
"That's sound religion, isn't it?" asked Mr. Fowler, pouring Charleton a cup of coffee.
"It's sound hospitality, anyhow," replied Charleton.
"Aw, any one would admit Fowler lives up to his faith," expostulated Douglas.
Charleton glanced at the young rider in surprise. "What's happened to you, old trapper?"
"Nothing. Only I wish I had the same religion he's got."
"So's you could herd the sheep?" asked Charleton.
"So's I could have peace," retorted Douglas.
"Peace? What does a kid like you want of peace? Anybody that can't find peace in Lost Chief is a fool."
"I'm no fool!" contradicted Doug, with a growing irritation at Charleton for interrupting his talk with
