decided, that you didn't know the man. Is that right?"
"Yes," answered Ruthven slowly and a bit reluctantly. "Of course there is some mistake somewhere. Miss McKenzie has no crooks on her list of acquaintances. She took the only unoccupied seat and just happened to pick out the one with Morrison. They merely talked a little, as chance acquaintances sometimes will. Naturally she had no idea what sort of a man Morrison was."
"I guess that's the size of it," Leason agreed. "That side of the question," and he shot a covert glance at the other man, "had nothing to do with your changing your mind and going on to Dry Wash, had it?"
This manifestly was none of the conductor's business. Still, in the circumstances, he might be excused for putting the question.
"Certainly not," Ruthven answered shortly.
The mysterious Barton package was what had caused Ruthven to change his mind and continue the unexpected journey to Dry Wash. His curiosity had been so profoundly stirred by that last increase in the parcel's weight that he had suddenly decided to follow it through to the other ranch. He knew that his absence would not inconvenience Hoover particularly, and his fears had been somewhat aroused by the strange actions of Durfee and Harrington. He did not take the trouble to explain all this to Leason.
"Are you acquainted in Dry Wash?" pursued the conductor.
"Never have been there. Thomas Barton, who has a ranch near the town, is my uncle. My name is Ruthven."
Barton was well and favorably known all over Montana. Most of the people, too, were aware that his brother-in-law was the great Emmet K. Ruthven.
"Thunder!" mused Leason. "Then you must be the Lewis Ruthven I've been hearing about—the chap who had a flare-up with Emmet K. and was sent to Montana as a" The conductor paused. His excitement was betraying him too far, and he realized it suddenly.
Ruthven stiffened. "I don't know what you heard, nor whom you heard it from," said he, "but there was no 'flare-up,' as you call it, between my father and me. Emmet K. is one of the finest fellows that ever lived. There may have been a slight misunderstanding between us, but when he gets back to the home office from San Francisco he will know just where I stand."
"Beg your pardon, Mr. Ruthven," mumbled Leason. "I didn't mean to blat out the rumors that are going around. Emmet K. is famous throughout the West, and whatever concerns him is considered public property."
"I'm standing on my own feet," said Ruthven, with a considerable show of feeling. "I don't care to be famous, or infamous, just because my father happens to be well known. What I want to do is to make my own way and not pose as the family pet. At Uncle Tom's lower ranch I'm pulling down fifty dollars a month, and Hoover, the foreman, says I earn every cent of it. Emmet K. isn't the fellow to push a man ahead just because the man happens to be his son. And I'm glad of it. I wish you'd tell anybody who gets curious about me that, so far as Emmet K. is concerned, I'm just his brother's hired man; and no more to him, in a business way, than the other hired men in his employ. Will you do that?"
"I will; glad to do it!" assured the conductor vehemently. "You're the right sort, Mr. Ruthven," he added approvingly, and got up as the train slowed for the next station.
Seventeen was due in Dry Wash at half past two, but owing to the delays
