be trifled with, and this, added to the very evident fact that he knew his job, eliminated any further opposition. Phil, though she persisted in regarding him as an overbearing, tyrannical bully, had to admit that he could handle men.
One morning, Dinah, who acted as cook and housekeeper at the ranch-house, came to his shake with a message that 'Missy Masters wanted for to see him.' He found her waiting in the big room. She was looking pale, and there were dark shadows under her eyes, which showed that the stress of the past two weeks was taking its toll.
'I hear you are getting a herd together,' she said. 'I presume it is for Mr. Bartholomew?'
'No,' Severn replied. 'It is for Ridge of the XT. Yore father had arranged the sale, an' I need the money.'
'You need it?' she queried sarcastically.
'Certainly; I gotta pay wages an' expenses,' the man retorted. 'P'raps I oughta said `we', but it comes to the same thing.'
'Please don't deliver the cattle until I return; I am going to Desert Edge,' the girl said coldly.
Somewhat to her disappointment he betrayed no curiosity. All he said was, 'Yu can't ride there alone.' She waited, wondering if he would have the temerity to offer himself as escort, and framing a crushing refusal, but again her hopes failed to fructify. 'I can spare Barton,' he said.
Thus it came about that some time later the girl and Larry were riding at a good road gait over the Desert Edge trail. At first the cowboy had kept a little in the rear until Phil, tired of her own company, had requested him to keep pace with her. In truth she liked the look of the new hand, whose rotundity of face and figure somehow gave him such a harmless appearance. He had little of the awkward shyness the average cowpuncher was afflicted with in the presence of all but some women. When she asked him if he liked the ranch, he said it was a 'humdinger', but when she put the same query about the foreman, he did not reply either so quickly or so enthusiastically.
'He's certainly wise to his work,' he allowed cautiously. 'But he ain't no easy fella to satisfy. Yu see, Miss, he 'pears to want things done just so, an' he's liable to raise Cain an' Abel if they ain't.'
'Obstinate and a bully,' the girl summarised.
Larry squinted at her sideways and choked on a chuckle. 'I wouldn't call him obstinate--though mebbe he's a bit sot in his ideas,' he said.
'He looks to me like a professional gunman,' the lady said contemptuously.
'Might be, o' course,' Larry agreed, 'but I'd say not; that sort is usually mean about the eyes. Allasame, I reckon a gent who pulled a gun on him would likely find hisself a trifle late.'
He went on to talk to her of killers and gun-fights, of Wild Bill Hickok, Slade, Sudden and others, of the bad old times in Abilene and Dodge, and tried to show her the big part these men and their like had played in the settlement of the country. And when she protested that the law was there to punish evildoers, he laughed.
'What's the use o' the law to a dead man?' he asked. 'No, ma'am, in those parts an' in these right now a man's gotta have his law handy on his hip, where he can get action on her speedy. Me, I'm a peaceable fella, but I like to know I got the means to protect m'self, yu betcha.'
With conversation of this kind he kept her amused and interested until they reached their destination. Desert Edge was a replica of Hope Again, but on a larger scale, plus a railway depot and pens where the cattle could await shipment. Though Phil had visited the place several times on her way to the East, she had but little knowledge of it. An inquiry of a shock-headed man, whose hand went instinctively to remove a hat he was not wearing, elicited the information she desired--the whereabouts of Judge Embley.
The Judge, whose title was official and not one of courtesy only, was a tall man of sixty, with a square, rugged but kindly face, and an unruly mop of grey hair which brush and comb were powerless to subdue. He was in his shirt-sleeves when his landlady entered the apartment which served as sitting-room and office, with the information that a young lady wished to see him. Slipping on his long black coat, he laid aside his cigar and greeted his visitor with a smile.
'So you are Philip Masters' little girl, eh?' he said when she had told her name. 'No news of your father yet, I suppose?' And when she shook her head, he added, 'Well, well, it's too soon to despair yet, you know. Now sit down and tell me how I can help you.'
The girl took the chair he placed for her; she liked the old man at once, and felt that he could be trusted.
'I've been looking through Daddy's papers,' she began, 'and I found one saying that if anything happened to him'--her voice shook a little--'I was to come and see you.'
'Quite right,' the Judge said. 'I've had the handling of your father's business for some years now, and a few months ago I drew up his will, under the terms of which I now become your guardian. May T say that while I deplore the necessity, I'm very proud of the position.' He bowed with an old-fashioned courtesy which gave point to the compliment. Then, seeing that she did not quite understand, he added, 'It amounts to this, until your father returns or we have definite news concerning him, I stand in loco parentis as we lawyers phrase it, or, in plain English, I take his place until you are of age.'
The girl was silent, pondering. 'And suppose--I wanted--to get married,' she said slowly. 'Your consent would be necessary?'
The shrewd old eyes under the bushy brows twinkled a little. 'I am afraid that is so,' he admitted. 'The will specially provides for such a contingency, and, failing my consent, your inheritance is reduced to a small annual income. What reason your father had for inserting that clause I cannot say, but apparently he regarded it as important.'
Again the girl was silent. She had vaguely thought of marriage with Bartholomew as a means of ousting Severn from the position of authority he had assumed, if all else failed. Had the clause been directed at the owner of the Bar B? Her father had always been friendly with the big man, but she had begun to suspect lately that he did not like him.
'If you are concerned about the conduct of the ranch, you need not be,' the Judge remarked. 'You have a good foreman.'
'I don't like him,' Phil said bluntly. 'He acts as if the place belonged to him.'
'He represents the owner, and he's there to give orders,' Embley reminded her.
'Yes, but not to me,' the girl retorted hotly.
'Has he done so?' the Judge queried.
The girl hesitated. 'Well, no, not exactly,' she admitted, 'but he refused to obey my instructions.' She related the incident regarding the steers Bartholomew had asked for.
'He was entirely right,' the old man said gravely. 'I am fairly conversant with your father's affairs, and I know of no debt to this man Bartholomew. I may tell you that I recommended Severn to your father, and I am pleased to find that he is justifying my confidence.'
' His tone was kindly, but in it there was a note of determination which told her that it would be useless to suggest the foreman's dismissal, as she had been on the point of doing. The astute old lawyer had divined this, and had cleverly saved both her and himself the pain of a refusal. Also, his reference to Bartholomew had made it plain that he did not entertain a highopinion of the owner of the Bar B ranch. Bitterly aware of a fruitless errand, she stood up to go; the Judge misread her doleful expression.
'Now, my dear, don't assume the worst,' he said. 'I am having inquiries made in all the outlying towns, and I've no doubt we shall hear of your father before very long. Come or send to me if you are in any difficulty, and--you can trust your foreman.'
Larry had a very silent companion on the ride back to the ranch, and in truth the girl had plenty to occupy her thoughts. She had set out in the morning full of hope that the Judge would be able to establish her authority and set her masterful foreman in his place, or, better still, out of it, and instead he had only given her a fuller realisation of her helplessness. Mainly the visit had been a gesture of revolt against Severn, and it failed. Her heart grew hot within her at the thought of this cool, confident stranger controlling her and her property. At least he should get no help from her, and Bartholomew was on her side and would know h w to deal with him.
When the owner of the Bar B came over on the following morning, she told him e ough of her conversation with the Judge to let him understand her position, and though he concealed his chagrin fairly wel, he was frowning heavily when she finished.
'Wonder why yore dad'' put that old fool Embley in the saddle?' he speculated. 'There's somethin' funny
