"Charleton, you and Jimmy Day ride to Scott's house with him," said John. "I'll go to the house and telephone to the sheriff." He mounted and rode off.
"Can your horse carry you so far, Scott?" asked Judith.
Scott nodded, with something curiously like tears in his hard hazel eyes. "You take the bull, Jude," he said. "I'd like for you to have him. He's standard bred."
Judith's eyes shone like stars. "If Dad'll only let me! Do you think he will, Doug?"
Douglas shrugged his shoulders. The bull was tied to the fence and Scott rode slowly away with his escort. When John returned from telephoning he gave a grudging consent to Judith's taking the bull, and the dehorning went on. Not until the blue velvet shadow of Falkner's Peak lay heavy on the incarnadined corral and the last bellowing steer had found solace at the haystacks did the riders start homeward. Douglas followed Judith, as she led the scare-crow bull.
"He's a good mate for Swift," he said.
"You're just jealous!" retorted Judith.
"Of what?" demanded Douglas.
"Of me starting a herd before you do!"
"Ha! Ha!" ejaculated Doug, without a smile, and nothing more was said until they reached the house.
At supper that night John asked Judith why she had shown so much friendship for Scott Parsons.
"I was sorry for him," she replied.
"But he killed our old neighbor!" exclaimed John.
"Yes, and Oscar had a notch on his gun, Dad; and you have one on yours."
"We put those notches there in the early days," returned John, "when every cowman carried the law on his
