The Joyous Trouble Maker. Jackson Gregory

goes by rights," he amended the procedure.

      "Yes, sir, Bill Steele's got a voice a man might travel a mile to hear … if travellin' was necessary. Which it ain't. Why, Turk, I remember the time me an' Bill ​was prospectin' down in Arizona an' him an' me got separated an' Bill climbs up on a sand hill an' turns that ol' voice of his loose an' I hear him across five miles sand an' sage. Fact."

      "Hm." Turk resumed his labour of fuel gathering. "Five mile? Hm."

      "But then you see," added Bill Rice hastily, "that was down on the desert. It's different there, the air bein' that clear I've saw a mountain off fifty mile that didn't look more'n a two hours' walk."

      "Well," and Turk surrendered to unanswerable argument, "that might be, too."

      "How in heck am I goin' to boil cawffy when he's forgot to bring along a cawffy pot to boil it in?" demanded Rice. "Now, Bill Steele oughta know better'n that."

      Turk lighted his fire, piled sufficient dry branches ready to hand and returned to his tree. He watched his companion interestedly but offered neither advise nor aid. His air was plainly that of a man whose worries, of whatsoever nature, lay behind him.

      "We got to chase him off the ranch, jus' the same," was his cheerful remark after a long silence. "I got my orders straight from Ed Hurley."

      "Damn Ed Hurley," was Rice's outspoken way of removing a difficulty. "He didn't know which Steele it was."

      "He did, though; he said 'A big, copper headed guy name of Bill Steele.' An' what's more he wrote a letter I'm to give him."

      "Well," snapped Bill Rice, with more of disgust ​than of irritation in his voice, "if you ain't the most secreetive cuss I ever travelled with I'm a Mexico dawg. Why didn't you say so? That letter'll make it all right with Steele an' all we got to do is fork it over an' we're through."

      "Ain't so," said Turk equably. "It don't explain nothin' a-tall."

      "Did Hurley tell you what it says?"

      "Can't I read? It jus' says … Wait a minute."

      Turk brought out of an inside vest pocket a folded bit of paper and a crumpled envelope; the latter he discarded as of no moment. And in the singsong of an illiterate man who reads aloud, he declaimed:

      "Dear Billy: If this comes to you the boys will tell you as much as I know. Orders from headquarters for you to keep off the ranch. First I knew of your being back in this part of the world. Run over and see me as soon as you can and we'll try to straighten matters out. Don't get your back up and start something, because the Queen has got you dead to rights this trip; it's her ranch and that's an end of it. Look me up. Good luck.

      "Edw. Hurley."

       "There you are," finished Turk. "So far as bein' any news in it you might as well throw it away, huh?"

      The sun was down among the trees upon the ridge when Steele came back into camp. And, though he had gone downstream upon leaving Rice and Wilson, he now appeared from above so that again the sun was in their eyes as they looked up at him. With a willow branch through their dripping gills he carried three fat trout; in the other hand was an old, black coffee pot.

      ​"I didn't think you was the man to forget it," said Bill Rice as he accepted it and spilled some coffee into the water it contained. "By the way, Bill, ol' Turk's got a letter for you from Hurley."

      Steele read the few words by the fading light, stood for a moment regarding them thoughtfully, then tossed the paper to the flames.

      "Judging by the finger and thumb marks on it," he said evenly, "I hardly suppose it's necessary to tell you what he says? Fry out some bacon, Bill, and Turk and I will have the fish ready to go into the hot grease. Fresh trout in bacon grease, washed down with good black coffee … you can't beat it, eh, boys?"

      "Goin' to do like Hurley says, Bill?" asked Rice, busy with the coals.

      "I'll be tickled to pieces to see him. Tell him I'll run in and swap talk with him just as soon as I finish my vacation."

      "How long did you say that was?"

      Steele laughed.

      "Can't tell, Bill. When a man is just back in the woods after a long spell in town he doesn't know any more than the man in the moon just how long it will be before he wants to break out of them. A week, or a couple of weeks, I'd say."

      Turk, employing his big knife at fish cleaning, looked up briefly.

      "Let's eat an' talk business afterwards," he suggested.

      ​

      CHAPTER VI

      STEELE'S CACHE

       Table of Contents

      "HAVIN' et your grub, Mr. Steele," observed Turk Wilson when at last his back was again to the big tree and his great bladed knife had returned to his pocket from its latest assault upon his slab of tobacco, "it would sure go against the grain if me an' Bill had to throw you off the ranch forcible. Let's talk."

      "Mr. Wilson," responded Steele gravely and in the coin of Turk's own courtesy, "you are a man of parts. We'll talk."

      He stretched himself out full length on the ground by the freshly replenished fire which cast its red, companionable glow upon three contented faces. With an elbow sunk in the short grass, his head propped up upon his palm, his pipe puffing slowly, he was in a softened mood and, like Turk, with no stomach for violent cross purposes. Bill Rice, squatting upon the heels of his heavy boots, treating himself to the dregs of the black coffee, nodded his pleasure in the amicable hour.

      "To begin with then," continued Steele genially, "I have come to stay and I am going to stay for some little time. Furthermore, I have a perfect right to do so, without offering any explanations. But, because Bill Rice here is a mighty good friend of mine and because I want Turk Wilson for a friend, too, I am going to tell ​you boys something that isn't very well known yet. I am at this minute on my own land."

      No change came into Turk Wilson's red, immobile face. Bill Rice, however, showed his surprise frankly at the information.

      "How's that come about, Steele?" he demanded.

      "Very naturally, Bill," answered Steele. "But we're not here for the discussion of unnecessary details, are we? All we need to go into at present is that the ground you're squatting on, with eighty acres including the Goblet yonder and a nice little stretch of timber land, belongs to me."

      "If you was most any other man I know," said Bill Rice after his own blunt fashion, "I'd say liar to you, Steele."

      "But since I am not any other man you know I am giving it to you straight, eh, Bill? Thanks, old man."

      Rice discarded his cup, scratched his head and finally shrugged his ample shoulders.

      "Well, Turk," he said thoughtfully, "I guess we're through? Ed Hurley musta got his signals mixed."

      "My orders," muttered Turk, "was to run him out. Especial if he was Bill Steele. Orders straight from Ed an' he got 'em straight from the Queen. When I take a man's pay … yes, or a woman's … I always obey orders. Always did."

      He stopped. Both Steele and Bill Rice watched him interestedly, awaiting the next words. But Turk Wilson, having set himself his proposition, took his own time in working it out. For full five minutes there was only ​the cheerful sound of the crackling fire to speak through the thunder of falling waters, voicing the presence of men.

      "You said it, Bill," announced Turk at last. "You said if he was any other man than Bill Steele you'd name him a liar. Seein' as it's funny Ed Hurley an' Miss Corliss don't know her own land yet. Not meanin' anything to stir up bad blood, but jus' thinkin' as a man does, how do I know Steele ain't lyin'?"

      He