"Then you'll destroy the man who was ready to give his life for mine,"
his daughter said quietly.

"What's that? How's that, Phyllie?"

"It's a long story. I want you to hear it all. But not here."

Her voice fell. A sudden memory had come to her of one thing at least
that she could not tell even to him--the story of that moment when she
had lain in the arms of the nester with his heart beating against her
breast.

The old man caught her by the shoulder, holding her at arm's length,
while the deep eyes under his shaggy, grizzled brows pierced her.

"What have you got to tell me, gyurl? Out with it!"

But on the heels of his imperative demand came reassurance. A tide of
color poured into her face, but her eyes met his quietly. They let him
understand, more certainly than words, that all was well with his ewe
lamb. Putting her gently to one side, he strode toward his enemy.

"What are you doing here, Buck Weaver?"

The cattleman swept the circle of lowering faces, and laughed
contemptuously. "A man might think I wasn't welcome if he didn't know
better."

"Oh, you're welcome--I reckon nobody on earth is more welcome right