“Is there any reason why it must be caught?” dad wanted to know, in his worst tone, which is almost diabolically calm.

“Yes,” I rapped out, growing a bit riled, “there is.  I can’t stand this do-nothing existence any longer.  You brought me up to it, and never let me know anything about your business, or how to help you run it—­”

“It never occurred to me,” drawled dad, “that I needed help to run my business.”

“And last spring you rose up, all of a sudden, and started in to cure me of being a drone.  The medicine you used was strong; it did the business pretty thoroughly.  You’ve no kick coming at the result.  I’m going to start to-morrow.”

Dad looked at me till I began to feel squirmy.  I’ve thought since that he wasn’t as surprised as I imagined, and that, on the whole, he was pleased.  But, if he was, he was mighty careful not to show it.

“You would better give me a list of your debts, then,” he said laconically.  “I shall see that your allowance goes on just the same; you may want to invest in—­er—­cattle.”

“Thank you, dad,” I said, and turned to go.

“And I wish to Heaven,” he called after me, “that you’d take Rankin along and turn him loose out there.  He might do to herd sheep.  I’m sick of that hark-from-the-tombs face of his.  I made a footman of him while you were gone before, rather than turn him off; but I’m damned if I do it again.”

I stopped just short of the door and grinned back at him.  “Rankin,” I said, “is one of the horrors I’m trying to leave behind, dad.”

But dad had gone back to his correspondence.  “In regard to that Clark, Marsden, and Clark affair, I think, Crawford, it would be well—­”

I closed the door quietly and left them.  It was dad’s way, and I laughed a little to myself as I was going back to my room to round up Rankin and set him to packing.  I meant to stand over him with a club this time, if necessary, and see that I got what I wanted packed.

The next evening I started again for Montana—­and I didn’t go in dad’s private car, either.  Save for the fact that I had no grievance with him, and that we ate dinner alone together and drank a bottle of extra dry to the success of my pilgrimage, I went much as I had gone before:  humbly and unheralded except for a telegram for some one to meet me at Osage.

Rankin, I may say, did not go with me, though I did as dad had suggested and offered to take him along and get him a job herding sheep.  The memory of Rankin’s pained countenance lingers with me yet, and cheers me in many a dark hour when there’s nothing else to laugh over.

CHAPTER X.

I Shake Hands with Old Man King.

For the second time in my irresponsible career I stood on the station platform at Osage and watched the train slide off to the East.  It’s a blamed fool who never learns anything by experience, and I never have accused myself of being a fool—­except at odd times—­so I didn’t land broke.  I had money to pay for several meals, and I looked around for somebody I knew; Frosty, I hoped.