know about this man, because I don't calculate to let you eat, drink, or sleep until you do tell."
"You must think I'm a tenderfoot! Inez, you open that door into the yard."
"Peter, you engage Inez' attention, will you?" asked Douglas in his gentle voice. "Now then, Scott, where is Fowler?"
Peter moved his chair over beside Inez. Scott made a wry face.
"I ain't his herder. That's your job. But you've sure lost him on the range, Doug. A religious round-up ain't what you thought it was, huh?"
"Just keep both hands in the buttonholes. That's right, Scott. Now when you get ready to tell daddy all your little sins, speak right up."
"Look here, Doug, don't you start any shooting in my house. I never have had any trouble here and I'm not going to begin now. You'll never get anything out of Scott, this way. You let him go."
Peter took Inez' hand. "My dear girl, you'd better keep out of this. Douglas is a right nervous rider, to-night."
Inez attempted to free her hand. Peter smiled. "You can't be my friend and Scott's too, you know."
"I don't want to be your friend!" panted Inez.
"Don't you?" asked Peter, looking at her through half-closed eyes. "Why not, Inez?"
Douglas, intrigued in spite of himself by this half-whispered conversation, glanced toward Inez. Instantly, Scott thrust the table against him and leaped toward the door. But Doug thrust out a spurred boot and the two young riders went down among the table legs. Inez twisted in Peter's grasp, but he pinioned both of her
