Bondsman, who constituted himself the guard of Shoop’s leisure, rapped the floor with his tail.  Shoop glanced over the top of his paper as light footsteps sounded in the outer office.  Dorothy tapped on the lintel and stepped in.  Shoop crumpled the paper and rose.  Bondsman was at her side as she shook hands with the supervisor.

“My new saddle came,” she said, patting Bondsman.  “And father’s latest book.  Why don’t you cheer?”

“Goodness, missy!  I started cheerin’ inside the minute I seen you.  Now, I reckon you just had to have that new saddle.”

“It’s at the store.  Father is over there talking politics and war with Mr. Handley.”

“Then you just set down and tell your Uncle Bud the news while you’re waitin’.”

“But I am not waiting.  I am visiting you.  And I told you the news.”

“And to think a new saddle could make your eyes shine like that!  Ain’t you ’shamed to fool your Uncle Bud?”

“I haven’t—­if you say you know I have.”

“’Course.  Most any little gal can get the best of me.”

“Well, because you are so curious—­Lorry is back.”

“I reckoned that was it.”

“He rode part-way down with us.  He has gone to see his father.”

“And forgot to repo’t here first.”

“No.  He gave me the reports to give to you.  Here they are.  One of Mr. Waring’s men, that young Mexican, rode up to the mesa last week and left word that Lorry’s father wanted to see him.”

“I aim to know about that,” chuckled Shoop.  And he smoothed out the paper and pointed to the Adams House sale notice.

“The Adams House for sale?  Why—­”

“Jim and Annie—­that’s Jim Waring and Mrs. Waring now—­are goin’ to run the ranch.  I’m mighty glad.”

“Oh, I see!  And Lorry is really Laurence Waring?”

“You bet!  And I reckon Lorry’ll be fo’man of that ranch one of these days.  Cattle is sky-high and goin’ up.  I don’t blame him.”

“He didn’t say a word about that to me.”

“’Course not.  He’s not one to say anything till he’s plumb sure.”

“He might have said something” asserted Dorothy.

“Didn’t he?” chuckled Shoop.

Dorothy’s face grew rosy.  “Your master is very inquisitive,” she told Bondsman.

“And your little missy is right beautiful this mawnin’,” said Shoop.  “Now, if I was a bow-legged young cow-puncher with curly hair, and looked fierce and noble and could make a gal’s eyes shine like stars in the evenin’, I reckon I wouldn’t be sittin’ here signin’ letters.”

“He isn’t bow-legged!” flashed Dorothy.  She was very definite about that.  “And he’s not a cowboy.  He is a ranger.”

“My goodness!  I done put my foot in a gopher hole that shake.  I sure am standin’ on my head, waitin’ for somebody to set me up straight ag’in.  You ain’t mad at your Uncle Bud, be you?”