“I think the fall would be best.  Suppose we say right after the round-up.  I’ll look for you on the twentieth of September.”

“That will suit me.  I can then give my boss ample notice.”

“What pay will you want, Mr. Fowler?”

“Just enough to feed and clothe me.  We’ll arrange that after we get a church established.”

Douglas rose with a broad grin.  “I sure-gawd have let myself in for something now,” he said.  “But I’ll take care of you, Mr. Fowler.”

“All right, young Moses,” returned the preacher, smiling into Doug’s eager face.  “Good-night.”

Charleton was still sound asleep when Douglas at dawn lay down beside him and slipped into dreamless slumber.

CHAPTER XI

THE LOG CHAPEL

“Don’t take any responsibility that you don’t have to.  That’s my idea of a happy life.”

—­Young Jeff

By eight o’clock the next morning they had broken camp and had started homeward, with their kicking, squealing herd of wild horses.  The little black mare alone led docilely.  It was a difficult trip back to the valley and Douglas was grateful for this, for it kept Charleton from airing the cynical comments Douglas knew he was evolving in regard to the preacher.  And Douglas was filled with a new purposefulness that was almost happiness.  He did not want Charleton to obtrude himself upon this new-found content.

They reached Lost Chief late one afternoon and Douglas found himself and the trembling mare at home in time for supper.  The family came out to the corral to examine the prize.

“She’s got some mighty good points,” said John; “but I doubt if you’ll ever be able to do anything with her.  She’s wild.  And she’ll die of homesickness for the range.  Once in a while you see ’em like that.”

“She has an intelligent eye.”  Judith was going over the horse eagerly.

Douglas smiled a little.  The range horse, with its slender, hard-muscled beauty, was no finer drawn than Judith circling carefully about the corral, the wind whipping her black hair across her thin, vivid face.

“I don’t believe she’ll eat with us all watching her,” said Mary.  “Let’s go in to our own supper.”

“She’ll have to eat pretty soon or give up.”  Douglas followed Judith into the kitchen.  “She hasn’t eaten a pound since I caught her.”

“Poor little thing!” exclaimed Judith.

At supper Douglas gave the details of the hunt, which were greeted by the family with considerable hilarity.

“One no-account horse to show for a week’s hard work!” laughed John.

But Douglas was not perturbed.

“I don’t mind,” he said.  “Wild horses was the least of what I went after and, as it turned out, the least of what I got.  I met Mr. Fowler.”

“The old preacher?” exclaimed Judith.  “Where was he?”