“Born there,” said old man Ellison, “and raised there till I was twenty-one.”
“This man says,” went on King James, “that he thinks you was related to the Jackson County Reeveses. Was he right?”
“Aunt Caroline Reeves,” said the old man, “was my half-sister.”
“She was my aunt,” said King James. “I run away from home when I was sixteen. Now, let’s re-talk over some things that we discussed a few days ago. They call me a bad man; and they’re only half right. There’s plenty of room in my pasture for your bunch of sheep and their increase for a long time to come. Aunt Caroline used to cut out sheep in cake dough and bake ’em for me. You keep your sheep where they are, and use all the range you want. How’s your finances?”
The old man related his woes in detail, dignifiedly, with restraint and candour.
“She used to smuggle extra grub into my school basket—I’m speaking of Aunt Caroline,” said King James. “I’m going over to Frio City to-day, and I’ll ride back by your ranch to-morrow. I’ll draw $2,000 out of the bank there and bring it over to you; and I’ll tell Bradshaw to let you have everything you want on credit. You are bound to have heard the old saying at home, that the Jackson County Reeveses and Kings would stick closer by each other than
