ever watch the moon rise, Doug, from the top of the bench back of the cabin there?"
"No," answered Douglas.
"Come on up! It's not a long ride. I've been wanting to make you a proposition for some time."
Douglas followed the postmaster silently. The horses were panting and sweating by the time they reached the top, and the rim of the moon was just peering over the edge of the Indian Range. All the valley lay in darkness. The two dismounted and threw themselves down on the ledge. Douglas lighted a cigarette while Peter filled his pipe.
"What are you planning to do with yourself now you're through school, Douglas?"
"Ride for Dad."
"How'd you like to go East to school?"
"Nothing doing! I've got more education now than I'll need as a rancher."
"Well, I guess that's not particularly so," said Peter. "I was thinking—you know I'm alone in the world—that I might help you out if you had any leaning toward college or a profession."
"Ranching is good enough for me, thank you all the same, Peter."
For some moments Peter did not speak again. Coyotes wailed in the peaks above them. The moon showed more of its golden face.
"Does your father ever talk to you about your own mother, Doug?"
"No; I quit asking him questions years ago. Peter, all I know about my mother is that her name was Esther, that the smallpox wiped her folks out, and that they owned the north half of our ranch. There's an old photo-
