Little Jim, astride of the ranch gate, querulously demanded where they had been and why they had not told him they were going somewhere.

“And you left the gate open, and—­everything!” concluded Jimmy.

“We just went for a walk,” said Dorothy.

“What’s the use of walkin’ up the old road in the dark?” queried Jimmy.  “You can’t see anything.”

“What do you say to a rabbit hunt to-morrow morning early?” asked Bartley.

“Nope!” declared Little Jim decisively. “‘Cause my dad was talkin’ with Aunt Jane and Uncle Frank, and dad says me and him are goin’ back to Laramie where ma is.  And we’re goin’ on the train.  Aunt Jane she cried.  But shucks!  We ain’t goin’ to stay in Laramie all the time.  Dad says if things rib up right, me and ma and him are comin’ back to live in the valley.  Don’t you wish you was goin’, Dorry?”

“You run along and tell Aunt Jane we’re coming,” said Bartley.

Little Jim hesitated.  But then, Mr. Bartley had bought him that new rifle.  Jimmy pattered down the path to the lighted doorway, delivered his message, and pattered back again toward the gate, wasting no time en route.  Halfway to the gate he stopped.  Mr. Bartley was standing very close to Dorry—­in fact, Jimmy was amazed to see him kiss her.  Jimmy turned and trotted back to the house.

“Shucks!” he exclaimed.  “I thought he liked guns and things more’n girls!”

But Jimmy was too loyal to tell what he had seen.  After all, Dorry was mighty fine, for a girl.  She could ride and shoot, and she never told on him when he had done wrong.

With a skip and a hop Jimmy burst into the room.  “We’re goin’ on the train,” he declared.  “Ain’t we, dad?”

Dorothy and Bartley came in.  Bartley glanced at Cheyenne, hesitated, and then thrust out his hand.

“Good luck to your new venture,” he said heartily.

“Same to you, pardner!” And Cheyenne included Dorry in his glance.

“I want to ask Aunt Jane’s advice,” stated Bartley.

“Then,” said Cheyenne, “I reckon me and Frank and Jimmy’ll step out and take a look at the stars.  She’s a wonderful night.”